These poor wretches were stolen from their homes, carried to a strange country, and sold to servitude, from which they sought to escape on the first occasion which offered.
quote by Philip Hone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Stolen
Let truth be told
Until its sold
Silence is golden
Too bad its all been stolen
Stolen! stolen! stolen!
Our defense is your defense
Your defense in some sense
Some sensless way unfolded
Folded cause its all been stolen
Stolen! stolen! stolen!
The gilded scale was burning
Just as your back was turning
Just as our trust was leaving
Youd have us all believing
These truths we hold
Self-evident
Bought and sold
The more you hunt the more I sing
Then quickly rewrite everything
Truth returns bloated, swollen
Then dissapears - its been stolen!
Stolen!
The gilded scale was burning
Just as your back was turning
Just as our trust was leaving
Youd have us all believing
These truths we hold
Self-evident
Bought and sold
Its all been stolen! [x2]
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Farewell of a Virginia Slave Mother
Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage
Gone, gone, - sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings
Where the noisome insect stings
Where the fever demon strews
Poison with the falling dews
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air;
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
There no mother's eye is near them,
There no mother's ear can hear them;
Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their back with many a gash
Shall a mother's kindness bless them
Or a mother's arms caress them.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,
From the fields at night they go
Faint with toil, and racked with pain
To their cheerless homes again,
There no brother's voice shall greet them
There no father's welcome meet them.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play;
From the cool spring where they drank;
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank;
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there;
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the spoiler's prey.
Oh, that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er
And the fetter galls no more!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
From Virginia's hills and waters
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
By the holy love He beareth;
By the bruised reed He spareth;
Oh, may He, to whom alone
All their cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Farewell
Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings
Where the noisome insect stings
Where the fever demon strews
Poison with the falling dews
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air;
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
There no mother's eye is near them,
There no mother's ear can hear them;
Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their back with many a gash
Shall a mother's kindness bless them
Or a mother's arms caress them.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,
From the fields at night they go
Faint with toil, and racked with pain
To their cheerless homes again,
There no brother's voice shall greet them
There no father's welcome meet them.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play;
From the cool sprmg where they drank;
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank;
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there;
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the spoiler's prey.
Oh, that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er
And the fetter galls no more!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
From Virginia's hills and waters
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
By the holy love He beareth;
By the bruised reed He spareth;
Oh, may He, to whom alone
All their cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of The Coffle Gang
This song is said to be sung by Slaves, as they are chained in gangs,
when parting from friends for the far off South-children taken from
parents, husbands from wives, and brothers from sisters.
See these poor souls from Africa,
Transported to America:
We are stolen, and sold to Georgia, will you go along with me?
We are stolen and sold to Georgia, go sound the jubilee.
See wives and husbands sold apart,
The children's screams!-it breaks my heart;
There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me?
There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee.
O, gracious Lord? when shall it be,
That we poor souls shall all be free?
Lord, break them Slavery powers-will you go along with me?
Lord, break them Slavery powers, go sound the jubilee.
Dear Lord! dear Lord! when Slavery'll cease,
Then we poor souls can have our peace;
There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me?
There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Illiteracy
some homes breed love
some homes breed hatred
some homes breed moderation
some homes breed extremes
some homes breed worldliness
some homes breed racism
some homes breed kindness
somehomes breed religious bigotry
throw in illiteracy and any country would be bloom to bits
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Equality... (In A Word)
equality...
in a word,
no more talk of
the 'land of the free'.
you founded this country
over the scattered bones
of 100,000,000 Native Americans.
built this country
on the backs of
African-American slaves,
and poor Scotch-Irish refugees,
who turned your earth,
and built your homes.
'give me your tired, your poor...'
more cheap labor?
to build your cities,
your railroads, work your steel.
how many faceless bodies buried
in your cold dark mines?
how many second class young men
sent off to war?
how many women paid less,
treated as less?
how many farmworker immigrants
paid too little,
treated like trash?
how many slum children
sent off to prison?
how many lives sold off
for bottom line profit?
disembodied jobless,
driven from their homes?
how many minimum wage slaves
praying for food stamps?
how many 'cant afford an education'
futures written in stone?
how many sparrows on the fence?
you want to honor those who've served?
all of these,
the people who have served you!
who have met your needs!
Memorial Day, an epitaph!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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End Of Our Days
Here, where they can't find us
I dare them to call me out
Or tell you
We met here on purpose
I bet they can't wait to wake us up
It's all a little bit strange
I know it's a little bit strange
Make a point and ignore them
Come on let's wait this out
They'll find out
We never stop turning
And sometimes it's tough
To change direction
I know it's a little bit strange
It's all a little bit strange
At the end of a day
I'm gonna say what I mean
It's slipping all away, away
At the end of our days
We'll escape
I know it's a little bit strange
It's all a little bit strange
At the end of a day
Well I'm gonna say what I mean
Well I'm
At the end of a day
Well I'm gonna say what I mean
Slipping all away
It's slipping all away
Its slipping all away, now
At the end of our days
We'll escape
Oh, there's no escape
We'll escape
song performed by by Howie Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The strange thing is that since I've been offered lots of films I think that maybe they think that I've sold out to Hollywood. Which is not the case if anybody's listening.
quote by Brenda Blethyn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Run! Escape!
(Written when the media broke the news of police brutality at Pindi Battian in presence of M.P.A.)
O! My poor people,
Run, run, and run!
Escape, escape, and escape!
Escape to the oceans to dwell
In the abyss of waters,
Amid the unexplored rocks,
And devouring monsters.
Escape to the African Forests
Live amid wolves, dogs and dragons.
Escape to the snow-clad region
Of Himalayan Mountains,
Or to the frozen poles of the Earth.
Escape to the Mars or Moon
Or to the Sun: the parent origin
Of the revolving world.
Escape to the canyons,
Or the spots where the Earth is gaped;
For now in my hard-earned country
Ear-banged Democracy governs,
With the assistance of twin Gentle Sisters,
Villaino-cracy and Policeo-cracy.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Even In The Midst Of It
What now can be said to those led to believe...
To have and to flaunt,
Would bring them a life other's wished.
And this would be envied with jealousy!
The kind of jealousy that brought to them,
An ego lift!
But then a foundation,
Crumbles from under their feet.
Not only do they realize they've been lied to...
But they've been used as part of the deceit.
This was not the plan!
Or was it?
To become degraded like this?
Upon these stolen lands?
And these same folks for most of their lives,
Have been taught to look down from upturned noses...
While they welcomed crooks into their homes,
To hoodwink them.
And as these decayed façades,
Display a hollowed shallowness...
They still remain self righteous.
Even in the midst of it!
Their own created crisis.
But...
This was not the plan!
Or was it?
To become degraded like this?
Upon these stolen lands?
And forced to foreclose...
Property,
To be sold...
To foreign hands?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Country Aint Country
He was raised on a tractor in overalls and boots
Been to college and then law school since leaving his roots
Came home in a lexus,he left in a ford
Country aint country no more
He told his daddy catch up with the times
He said now a days people trade heifers online
Dad aint selling deals with a handshake like before
Country aint country no more
No,country aint country no more
The back forty was sold to make up for hard times
Then sold by the half acre lot overnight
The houses went up and the trees were cut down
And there went the finest deer hunting around
Lord everyones locking their doors
cause country aint country no more
Now his dad sits in traffic looking round at the change
Watching crews turn the county road into four lanes
The old sunday drive has turned into a chore
Country aint country no more
Lord,country aint country no more
The back forty was sold to make up for hard times
Then sold by the half acre lot overnight
The houses went up and the trees were cut down
And there went the finest deer hunting around
Lord everyones locking their doors
cause country aint country no more
Theres no turning back
And you just cant ignore
That country aint country no more
No,country aint country no more
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Carried Away
(barry gibb/albhy galuten)
There you are
Shiny as a morning star
Its a figure of speech
But youre still out of reach
You never told me loving you could be so wrong and right
And its gonna be a lonely night
I turn to you
You turn away
Youre looking at someone else
And here am i
Loving you more and more
Weve got an open door, my love
Oh let it be just a state of mind
And suddenly you appear
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
Cest la vie
So you wanna play another part
Can you say goodbye
Can you live a lie
Shell never give you what I gave you was my breaking heart
Better than I ever knew
And if you can live without my love
Youre really gonna be alone
And here am i
Walking against the crowd
Calling your name out loud, my love
Oh let it be just a state of mind
And suddenly you appear
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
Carried away
Baby there aint no final word
Ill be yours again
I got a world of tenderness
Yours until the end
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Escape
Escape
Escape
That one word resonates in my mind
I need an escape a reprieve from
All this energy surrounding me
Escape
Escape
I want to be let out for awhile
To be free and alone
To do what I want without interference
Escape
Escape
I don't wanna hear arguing
Or little petty problems
I want to not have to do anything
Escape
Escape
I want to Escape
poem by Autumn Winds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Harvard Crimson
Harvard..
crimson with the blood of hundreds of millions of animals
dead in their underground vivisection labs
Harvard crimson, as the US university with the largest endowment,
invested in war, animal and fish flesh, factory farms, killer drugs
Harvard crimson, with the dollars it has stolen from the US poor.
Harvard which lost prion discoverer Stanley Prusiner, who was tired
of the university's animal flesh investments putting his research on
the back burner.
Harvard economists, destabilizers of the Russian economy
Harvard, driving the poor out of their homes, paying $4000 in the 70's
for homes in surrounding neighborhoods
Harvard, way behind Oberlin in ending exclusion of women and African
Americans
***************** ****************
Boston is the vivisection capital of the US, and Harvard receives more
vivisection dollars than any other university.
poem by O. Anna Niemus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who can be Redeemed?
Who can be saved?
So many can be saved -
A rich man and his family,
They can be saved.
But who can be redeemed?
Only souls enslaved.
Only those sold
Can be bought back again.
Those who purchase minds and souls
By sermon, fear or flattery
May not petition for redemption
Or ask how it will set them free.
Those who traded on South Africa
While Mandela worked in jail
Those who issued bonds of war
While Iraq's children died in flames
You who claim to be redeemers
While disowning fields you've sown -
The lands you've stolen, slaves you've owned -
Will pay in different currency
Than any you have yet controlled.
Until you've lived in servitude
To justice and its wondrous law
Until you are the slaves to truth
Redemption is not yours' to know.
poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never Been Sold Before
You ask me, babe, "Can you work tonight?"
I've been up, babe, since broad daylight
I just can't believe that you're selling me,
You never sold me before
I just can't become your lousy who-o-ore
Yeah, I'm stacked nice, they really like my style
Fifty bucks, babe, ha, can't even buy my smile
I just can't believe that you're selling me,
You never sold me before
I just can't become your lousy who-o-ore
I-I-I-I find I come around just to lay this money on you, babe
I'm sick of streets, chicks and dicks, and I'm,
I'm really sick of you
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
I just can't believe that you're selling me,
You never sold me befo-ore
I just can't become your little whore
No, no, no, no
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dictatorships Exclusive
dictatorships
pyramid exclusive privilege
restricted rights
restricted benefits
streamlined American debt
states are bankrupt?
good common citizens
ordinary noble Americans
pay debt in sold skins
George W Bush
robbed American poor
who had to pay taxes
exempted wealth all
his buddy mega rich mates
who as his supporters
fund contributors
were apex tax exempt
paid no tax at all?
for a haven period
of several years
Barak reinstated
mega rich prime privilege
Barak Hussein Obama stepped
up illegal foreign wars
lied publicly because never closed
Guantanamo Bay as promised
bought troops home as promised
costly invasion inflation wars
crank up American blood debt
costly drone buzz missiles hit
over a million American
homes lost homes homes
the poor the middle class
suffer while wall street fraud
top bankers who were guilty
of mismanagement were bailed
out with tax payer dollars
again the fleeced poor paid
for errors of banker policy
rich and when poor protest
will they be swiftly beaten
down if dare march protest?
Say No To Torture?
Say No To Gitmo?
Say No To Barack?
Say No To Foreign Wars?
Say yes to bring home troops?
Say yes to American factories?
Say yes to fair taxes our homes?
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Early Summer Lodging in a Temple to Enjoy the Moonlight
In early summer, with two or three more
That were seeking fame in the city of Ch'ang-an,
Whose low employ gave them less business
Than ever they had since first they left their homes
With these I wandered deep into the shrine of Tao,
For the joy we sought was promised in this place.
When we reached the gate, we sent our coaches back;
We entered the yard with only cap and stick.
Still and clear, the first weeks of May,
When trees are green and bushes soft and wet;
When the wind has stolen the shadows of new leaves
And birds linger on the last boughs that bloom.
Towards evening when the sky grew clearer yet
And the South-east was still clothed in red,
To the western cloister we carried our jar of wine;
While we waited for the moon, our cups moved slow.
Soon, how soon her golden ghost was born,
Swiftly, as though she had waited for us to come.
The beams of her light shone in every place,
On towers and halls dancing to and fro.
Till day broke we sat in her clear light
Laughing and singing, and yet never grew tired.
In Ch'ang-an, the place of profit and fame,
Such moods as this, how many men know?
There Can Be No Freedom
there can be no freedom
when your own children are
going to bed hungry.....
when your workers stand
in jobless lines called by numbers,
not by names....
when your farms are taken
by the banks, and your tractors
sold at auction....
when your homes are foreclosed,
your small businesses shut down,
and they bail out the banks
with your retirement!
when your President stands by,
and does nothing,
as they beat, and terrorize your children....
when war after war the hole gets bigger,
and your thoughts and words are stolen!
there can be no freedom without change....
...no change unless we dare!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All men are evil and will declare themselves to be so when occasion is offered.
quote by Walter Raleigh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian