A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots.
quote by Marcus Garvey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Do I Come From?
Where do I come from? I do not know,
For it was taken away before I could see. What
is my name? I do not know, because it was taken
away from me before I was born. Who am I? I will never know, for the
culture of who I am and would have been, was
stripped away from lack of understanding. What is my past?
The knowledge to know that people, doing the hating
and despising are the very same people that share
my family roots. Who am I? This I do know a person that
will never have knowledge, of what it would be
like to have a culture and a country, a past with
a positive history! Where do I go? I do not know, for there
is far more prejudice than ever against a people,
with no country and no culture, stuck in the middle
of a melting pot society. What do I do? All I can do is hope,
hope that one day, it won't matter what color
you are, and it won't matter where you come from.
It doesn't matter what you look like, that people
wake up and accept a person by how one is treated. What is my future?
To pass this knowledge to my children, for it
is the only thing left, that was not taken from me.
And it is the only thing of value in this life
I can give, this gift to my child.
poem by Be' Ver Lee Houston
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An uncreative medicine
no hope
no friend
no family
no home
no nativity
no nationality
no fame
no name
no future
no points
no market
no identity
no possessions still a tree without roots
no relationship still a tree without roots
no anarchism still a tree without roots
no hiearchy still a tree without roots
no country still a tree without roots
no colours still a tree without roots
no degrees still a tree without roots
no certificates
no imaginations
no dream
no poetry
no fiction
no story
no news
no media
no happiness still a tree without roots
no genre still a tree without roots
no labels still a tree without roots
no names still a tree without roots
THE FOURTH EYE
of
A post-conceptual poet.
The History of Now
The recording of culture is history;
but our culture is more than that.
It's the world of human action,
and the myths we make of the fact.
The recording of history is culture,
but our history is more than that.
It informs a hidden agenda.
Unconscious of motive we act.
It's the history of now, the history of now.
It's only the present that exists as endowed.
It's the history of now. The moment - KAPOW!
That knocks you right over and muddies your brow.
Through the prism of language, we know what we know.
We carry our baggage and stories of woe.
Victor and vanquished pride cannot budge,
the dead weight of hatred and ancestral grudge.
We fight our good fights with our hand on our heart;
the music is swelling as loved ones depart.
As sheep to the slaughter, the script cannot chart,
a course more ignoble: the propagandist's art.
The recording of history is culture,
but our culture is more than that.
More than the great individuals,
the scholars so love in their tracts.
The recording of culture is history;
but our history is more than that.
Not simple dates or statistics,
the full horror and gore still attracts.
It's the history of now, the history of now.
A strange contradiction that makes sense somehow.
It's the history of now, a mystery and shroud.
The past and the future: best fiction allowed.
poem by David SmithWhite
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An Do Tu
These past years, you have grown in knowledge
As a tree grows in sunshine.
You have reached out and made friends
The way a tree reaches out and plants roots,
And like a tree in spring
Your personality has blossomed.
May your future be as bright as the sun
And may success rain down upon you
(1984) Written for An on his graduation.
On Tree
Just a plain old TREE. I Ignored the weather
satisfied with me. I Looked at TREE.
What if anything do I knoe about TREE.
It used to be a thing made out of wood, always tall,
with branches near the ground. Roots fingering the ground.
Life comes up somehow to TREE. Water cascades down to ground, seeping slowly into ROOT. ROOT transmogrifies
the water into inner sanctum stuff known only to the Lord.
People still tell me, Tree just cannot live.
There is no real feeling in TREE.
There is knowledge in TREE or it would be a blade of grass.
People say the life is in the seed or sapiling.
I think the knowledge is in the MAN, the ONE who can.
He Makes all the TREE begin, upon a distant planet,
Creates the thing again, in the courtyard of his KING.
And every meadow of his earth.
The ONE who gave me birthe the second time around.
The ONE who gave me TREE.
And Time to write this down.
poem by Charles Hice
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4. Grow Well
The knowledge tree will need to grow
While we still have the need to know
Its roots secure to help it growing
Food it seeks our need for knowing
Thick stout trunk a brain or store
With many wonders to explore
Branches go at every angle
Many problems to untangle
A tree as this of many years
Survives by feeding from our tears
Sometimes joy at knowledge found
They fall like raindrops on the ground
Remember in the world out there
Try to learn and be aware
And if you’re able, go to college
To fertilize this tree of knowledge
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Multiple Choice: Australia
The huge roots of the Daintree tree are known as:
1) fortress roots
2) buttress roots
3) art deco roots
4) neo-gothic roots
5) time-to-rinse roots
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Knowledge
What happens to our knowledge
when we pass from here?
Will it be buried with us
for an eternity to be undisturbed,
or do we leave tracks
of our knowledge behind?
Great minds have already written down
things they did not want to forget.
Is it possible that great knowledge
is gathering dust somewhere
in those forgotten chapters
of our history?
Leonardo Da Vinci’s drawings
of airplanes and submarines.
Were they just fanciful dreams,
or were they reality?
Could these things have existed,
but of their presence in history
this knowledge for them departed?
What about Atlantis
with its knowledge unbound.
Did it really disappear
beneath the waves without a sound,
and the knowledge that they held,
did that all vanish with them?
We can only speculate
where all this knowledge goes
as new minds dream of things
that may have existed in the past.
Which leaves us with the question,
what happens to our knowledge
when we pass away from here?
4 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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In A Certain Culture
In a certain culture,
People do eat and drink blood;
In a certain culture,
People wake up early to eat before they brush their teeth;
In a certain culture,
People eat animals already found dead;
In a certain culture,
People wake up early to eat before they bath;
In a certain culture,
People eat snakes and dogs;
In a certain culture,
People wake up to brush their teeth before eating;
In a certain culture,
People eat monkeys and crocodiles;
Ina certain culture,
People wake up in the morning to bath before they eat;
In a certain culture,
To be naked at the beachside is okay;
In a certain culture,
It is a taboo to be naked at the beachside;
And this is all about life on this earth!
Because what is sweeter on your lips is bitter on mine;
And it is very strange to experience all these facts around the world.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Show me my Africa!
Show me my origin...
Show me my land...
Show me my Africa...
Shine and support the spirit of UBUNTU.
Take me back to where i belong,
Where birds fly well peacefully,
Where every creature is happy.
Let me hear African stories,
Let me see its natural beauty landscapes.
Show me my land...
The land of great heroes,
Where Nobel peace price winners were born.
Where fighting and murder is a sin,
Where all people wish one thing,
Where all people preach one thing,
Where all people practice one thing,
Where everyone wants PEACE.
Let me hear those voices of hope...
Land of admissible and prosperity,
Where cultural diversity means nothing, but
Brings us together as valiant regiments.
Past is the past and let us let it pass...
Show me my Africa...
Where robust and intrepid people lives,
Where the beauty of cultures reflects.
Let discrimination be the history
And believe in the beauty of Africa.
Show me my origin...
Let me venerate and cherish its traditions..
Let me be the true African.
Take me back to Africa.
Show me my origin,
Show me my land,
Show me my AFRICA..
('ubuntu' is a Zulu word meaning humanity)
poem by Siyabonga A nxumalo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pop and Culture
Peeps peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There's a peep on pop and culture,
With not a poop to stop.
They peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There is a peep on pop and culture,
Without a poop to stop.
Lady Gaga got that pop.
People peep on pop and culture.
Taylor Swift's got Country Rock.
People peep on pop and culture.
And Kanye's a social poppa.
People peep on pop and culture.
With Beyonce and Jay-Z,
Seen on top in magazines.
Peeps peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There's a peep on pop and culture,
With no poop to stop.
Peeps peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There's a peep on pop and culture,
With no poop to stop.
We feed on Beatles.
Those songs of Beatles.
We feed on Beatles.
And...
Prince is there with beats.
And Michael Jackson's Pop is sweet.
We feed on Beatles.
Those songs of Beatles.
We feed on Beatles.
And Lady Gaga just rocks.
We feed on Beatles.
And they introduced this culture shock.
Peeps peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There's a peep on pop and culture,
With not a poop to stop.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One Ancestry
One race...one ancestry
One place...one history
The importance of all these -
The start of you and me
Our family is like branches of tree
Some remain in Palompon, Leyte
A place where we can feel and see
Our great ancestor's merits and bravery
Others grow in different lands
Yet, our roots remain as one.
Each of our lives will always be intertwined
The breathe we take
The blood that flows through our veins
Is like a song that will never change.
A tear in my eye
With a heart full of pride
And that I cannot hide.
As I'm so blessed to be a part of history
A history that will be remembered and treasured
Not only today but on the next generation..
All of the information
Gathered from the past
Through your help & coordination we made it at last!
So, thank you for all you do,
I appreciate it and that's true!
poem by Amor Olorvida
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France, and the whole of Europe have a great culture and an amazing history. Most important thing though is that people there know how to live! In America they've forgotten all about it. I'm afraid that the American culture is a disaster.
quote by Johnny Depp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Culture!
Culture is like a flowing river
it changes with time;
sometimes changes time too;
as sunlight, water, air and earth
change the seed into a sapling
plant, tree and also tree becomes dead wood;
Culture is the cultivated one
differently at different times;
There is no standard culture
We create, follow, recreate,
demolish, destroy culture
depending on our needs
and compulsions;
Culture is not stagnated water
It is a flowing river
And may become arid
Depending on our cultivation
Or negligence;
poem by Varanasi Ramabrahmam
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We have our own history, our own language, our own culture. But our destiny is also tied up with the destinies of other people - history has made us all South Africans.
quote by Mangosuthu Buthelezi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Multicultural Melbourne
Melbourne Immigration Museum
I stroll,
Past history,
Past lives,
Past stories.
I see for the first time MY nation’s history,
My nations courage,
My nations suffering,
My eyes glaze over
And realisation creeps up on me.
I see stories of the past and present,
Played out before me,
The lives of Australia’s people,
Australia’s history
poem by Katie Anne
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Without history we are a tree without roots.
aphorism by Camelia Oprița from The wall of thoughts (21 May 2020), translated by Camelia Oprița
Submitted by ElenaDElena
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Athens Beckons!
It is not just a fairy tale
But true and very much real
In the history of long long ago
There flourished the glory of Athens
And the golden age of Pericles
Just not a city of scenic beauty
But an ideal and a model city
The perfect symbol of democracy
And no special room for aristocracy
Devoted to the cause of Excellency
Surely a seat of great wisdom
Where people could enjoy utmost freedom
By digging deep into the repository
No where is found such place in all history
The mother of all epistemology
Where Socrates could write his Apology
When the justice shone on all the houses
Even the poor could smile as the virtuous
Bloomed on this cradle of fine culture
Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides
Could nourish the roots of literature
Herodotus and Thucydides
Two great chroniclers of matchless wisdom
Who took away from history all its boredom
Whoever said that history is dead
Isn't aware of the edifice on which we stand
For nations like Athens once mighty and grand
Connect us to history's unending strand!
poem by Rekha Sathya
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Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roooaaaaaahh
I believe
In Our Fate
We Don't Need To Fake
It's All We Wanna Be
Watch Me Freeeaaak !!
I Say
We're Growing Every Day
Getting Stronger In Every Way
I'll Take You To A Place
Where We Shall Find Our
Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roots
Rain
Bring Me The Strength
Is Breeding Me This Way
To Get To Another Day
And All I Want To See
Set Us Free
Why
Can't You See
Can't You Feel
This Is Real
Ahhh
I Pray
We Don't Need To Change
Our Ways To Be Saved
That All We Wanna Be
Watch Us Freak
song performed by by Sepultura
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tree In The Field
Perhaps it was a dream,
that ripped Reality's seam,
on that day I saw the tree,
alone in a green sea.
Years washed over it,
the world its roots bit,
yet still that tree lives,
till to it my life I give.
We would watch my old friend,
under a black sky with no end,
where the stars would smile bright,
and life didn't seem so trite.
But everyone dies I guess,
and I am something less
than the sylvan Keeper
of memories of a world gone deeper.
As the glory of the stars arises,
no longer will there be surprises,
for my tomb has been set,
under the Tree With No Regret.
Where the waves once foamed,
and the horses once roamed,
there is only ashes,
unmarred by Sadness' slashes.
Perhaps its only a dream,
to be buried by the stream
of roots filled with knowledge
of when Death falls off the edge.
poem by Soren Valentine
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