The Death Of Huss
In the streets of Constance was heard the shout,
``Masters! bring the arch-heretic out!''
The stake had been planted, the faggots spread,
And the tongues of the torches flickered red.
``Huss to the flames!'' they fiercely cried:
Then the gate of the Convent opened wide.
Into the sun from the dark he came,
His face as fixed as a face in a frame.
His arms were pinioned, but you could see,
By the smile round his mouth, that his soul was free;
And his eye with a strange bright glow was lit,
Like a star just before the dawn quencheth it.
To the pyre the crowd a pathway made,
And he walked along it with no man's aid;
Steadily on to the place he trod,
Commending aloud his soul to God.
Aloud he prayed, though they mocked his prayer:
He was the only thing tranquil there.
But, seeing the faggots, he quickened pace,
As we do when we see the loved one's face.
``Now, now, let the torch in the resin flare,
Till my books and body be ashes and air!
But the spirit of both shall return to men,
As dew that rises descends again.''
From the back of the crowd where the women wept,
And the children whispered, a peasant stepped.
A goodly faggot was on his back,
Brittle and sere, from last year's stack;
And he placed it carefully where the torch
Was sure to lick and the flame to scorch.
``Why bring you fresh fuel, friend? Here are sticks
To burn up a score of heretics.''
Answered the peasant, ``Because this year,
My hearth will be cold, for is firewood dear;
And Heaven be witness I pay my toll,
And burn your body to save my soul.''
Huss gazed at the peasant, he gazed at the pile,
Then over his features there stole a smile.
``O Sancta Simplicitas! By God's troth,
This faggot of yours may save us both,
And He who judgeth perchance prefer
To the victim the executioner!''
Then unto the stake was he tightly tied,
And the torches were lowered and thrust inside.
You could hear the twigs crackle and sputter the flesh,
Then ``Sancta Simplicitas!'' moaned afresh.
'Twas the last men heard of the words he spoke,
Ere to Heaven his soul went up with the smoke.
poem by Alfred Austin
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Related quotes
Grey
You always say
That your life's been thrown away
That's why you turn to a man upstairs
And pray he'll save you everyday
Don't come around no more
Save your soul in the eyes of the lord
Don't come around no more
Save your soul in the eyes of the lord
Long years go by
As you still sit to wonder why
Your voice can't scream out loud
And your mind's been trapped inside
Don't come around no more
Save your soul in the eyes of the lord
Don't come around no more
Save your soul in the eyes of the lord
Burn yourself down
Bring yourself down
Burn yourself down
Bring yourself down
You know I'm drowning in myself
Drowning in myself
You know I'm drowning in myself
Don't come around no more
Save your soul in the eyes of the lord
Don't come around no more
Save your soul in the eyes of the lord
Don't come around no more
Save your soul in the eyes of the lord
Don't come around no more
Save your soul in the eyes of the lord
Burn yourself down
Bring yourself down
Burn yourself down
Bring yourself down
song performed by by Green Lizard from Identity
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Body And The Soul
i hear the body speak through its mouth
there is no God
there is no God
i see the body wasting itself
like a tree whose roots are eaten by the fungus
but inside that body is the soul that raises his hands
to the skies looking at God and calling his name
My God why have you abandoned me?
there is only the usual silence and the soul is restless
anticipating to get out from the body that is killing and wasting itself
and the time has come
for the soul to be liberated
to be alone
in itself moving towards the light, dancing in the dark, and singing out aloud
My God here i am back to you
It is only in You that i find back peace and happiness & bliss.
Let that soul be me My Lord.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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439
I Hear The Body Speak Through Its Mouth
There Is No God There Is No God
I See The Body Wasting Itself
Like A Tree Whose Roots Are Eaten By The Fungus
But Inside That Body Is The Soul That Raises His Hands
To The Skies Looking At God And Calling His Name
My God Why Have You Abandoned Me?
There Is Only The Usual Silence And The Soul Is Restless
Anticipating To Get Out From The Body That Is Killing And Wasting Itself
And The Time Has Come For The Soul To Be Liberated To Be Alone
In Itself Moving Towards The Light, Dancing In The Dark, And Singing Out Aloud
My God Here I Am Back To You
It Is Only In You That I Find Back Peace And Happiness & Bliss.
Let That Soul Be Me My Lord
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Old Year And The New
I.
As one in sorrow looks upon
The dead face of a loyal friend,
By the dim light of New Year's dawn
I saw the Old Year end.
Upon the pallid features lay
The dear old smile--so warm and bright
Ere thus its cheer had died away
In ashes of delight.
The hands that I had learned to love
With strength of passion half divine,
Were folded now, all heedless of
The emptiness of mine.
The eyes that once had shed their bright
Sweet looks like sunshine, now were dull,
And ever lidded from the light
That made them beautiful.
II.
The chimes of bells were in the air,
And sounds of mirth in hall and street,
With pealing laughter everywhere
And throb of dancing feet:
The mirth and the convivial din
Of revelers in wanton glee,
With tunes of harp and violin
In tangled harmony.
But with a sense of nameless dread,
I turned me, from the merry face
Of this newcomer, to my dead;
And, kneeling there a space,
I sobbed aloud, all tearfully:--
By this dear face so fixed and cold,
O Lord, let not this New Year be
As happy as the old!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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One Year In Heaven
One year in heaven,
One year you've been there,
So far away,
Someday I'll see you in the air,
One year in heaven,
I miss you so much,
Smile down upon me,
And show me your love.
One year in heaven,
It seems like so long,
Since the last time I saw you,
And then you were gone,
One year in heaven,
You left earth to soon,
But I know they need you,
More then I do,
One year in heaven,
I'm alone on the earth,
I miss your sweet kisses,
And all that you're worth,
One year in heaven,
Is God really there?
Why did he take you,
As I cried in despair.
One year in heaven,
I still see your face,
The day that you took,
The last breath you would take,
One year in heaven,
Why did you die,
I know God needed you,
But still I cry.
One year in heaven,
Soon I'll be there,
So wait by the gate,
Please, this do swear,
One year in heaven,
To me it is long,
But you have no pain,
From this earth you have gone.
One year in heaven,
It's so hard to move on,
I'll send you a prayer,
And sing you a song,
One year in heaven,
Life's not the same,
Since you left this world,
I'm living in a daze.
One year in heaven,
You watch from above,
Sit there and smile,
And send me your love,
One year in heaven,
You may think it's just a day,
But this world is so different,
Since God took you away
poem by Michele Weston
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The Plate Of Gold
One day there fell in great Benares' temple-court
A wondrous plate of gold, whereon these words were writ;
'To him who loveth best, a gift from Heaven.'
Thereat.
The priests made proclamation: 'At the midday hour,
Each day, let those assemble who for virtue deem
their right to Heaven's gift the best; and we will hear
the deeds of mercy done, and so adjudge.'
The news
ran swift as light, and soon from every quarter came
nobles and munshis, hermits, scholars, holy men,
and all renowned for gracious or for splendid deeds,
meanwhile the priests in solemn council sat and heard
what each had done to merit best the gift of Heaven.
So for a year the claimants came and went.
At last,
after a patient weighing of the worth of all,
the priests bestowed the plate of gold on one who seemed,
the largest lover of the race - whose whole estate,
within the year had been parted among the poor.
This man, all trembling with his joy, advanced to take
the golden plate-when lo! at his finger's first touch
it changed to basest lead! All stood aghast; but when
the hapless claimant dropt it clanging on the floor,
Heaven's guerdon was again transformed to shining gold.
So for another twelve month sat he priests and judged.
Thrice they awarded-thrice did Heaven refuse the gift.
Meanwhile a host of poor, maimed beggars in the street
lay all about the temple gate, in hope to move
that love whereby each claimant hoped to win the gift
and well for them it was (if gold be charity),
for every pilgrim to the temple gate praised God.
that love might thus approve itself before the test,
and so coins rained freely in the outstretched hands;
but none of those who gave, so much as turned to look
into the poor sad eyes of them that begged.
And now
The second year had almost passed, but still the plate
of gold, by whomsoever touched was turned to lead.
At length there came a simple peasant-not aware
of that strange contest for the gift of God-to pay
a vow within the temple. As he passed along
the line of shrivelled beggars, all his soul was moved
within him to sweet pity, and the tears well up
and trembled in his eyes.
Now by the temple gate
there lay a poor, sore creature, blind, and shunned by all;
but when the peasant came, and saw the sightless face
and trembling, maimed hands he could not pass, but knelt,
and took both palms in his, and softly said: 'O thou,
my brother! bear the trouble bravely. God is good.'
The he arose and walked straightway across the court,
and entered where they wrangled of their deeds of love
before the priests.
A while he listened sadly; then
had turned away; but something moved the priest who held
the plate of gold to beckon to the peasant. So
he came, not understanding and obeyed, and stretched
his hand and took the sacred vessel. Lo! it shone
with thrice its former lustre, and amazed them all!
'Son', cried the priest, 'rejoice, the gift of God is thine.
Thou lovest best!' And all made answer, 'It is well.'
And, one by one, departed. But the peasant knelt
and prayed, bowing his head above the golden plate;
while o'er his soul like morning streamed the love of God.
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Prince
Now I see his face, I see his smile
Such a lonely place, no golden mile
Eyes tell of morbid tales of his black heart
His deeds through ages past tell of his part
See his face, see his smile
Time to die
Angel from below, change my dreams
I want for glory's hour, for wealth's esteem
I wish to sell my soul, to be reborn
I wish for earthly riches, don't want no crown of thorns
See his face, see his smile
Time to die
I was born a fool, don't want to stay that way
Devil take my soul, with diamonds you repay
I don't care for heaven, so don't you look for me to cry
And I will burn in hell, from the day I die
See his face, see his smile
Time to die
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Burn, Georgia, Burn
Words and music by tim lewis and roger murrah
Atlanta was on fire and so was she the night he left her.
Left her there to bear her pain alone, hoping soon to return.
Burn, georgia, burn.
The roaring of th guns filled the emptiness inside her where once she felt
The pounding of her heart.
When he held her in his arms, tenderness they learned.
Burn, georgia, burn.
He was the body, she was the soul of a love affair the couldnt control.
While the world was falling down around them, they were not concerned.
Burn, georgia, burn.
Winter brought the snow and a rider down from franklin with news of how the
War had taken toll and he would not return.
Burn, georgia, burn.
He was the body, she was the soul of a love affair they couldnt control.
While her world crumbled all around her, she was not concerned.
Burn, georgia, burn.
While strolling through her mind she stumbled on an old, familiar feeling of
How he touched her many years ago and how he made her yearn.
Burn, georgia, burn.
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Face
One face in a crowd is hard to find.
One face in that crowd is on my mind.
How can I find the face of one,
The face that to me is like the sun?
Shiny and bright with a radiant glow,
The face that picks me up when I'm low,
Eyes that light up wherever they are
Just like the splendor of an evening star,
Lips that break into the sweetest smile
That lingers for me for the longest while,
Hair that surrounds that face like a frame
That always sets my heart aflame.
I search all the faces but cannot see
The one that means the world to me.
I'm lost. I'm wretched. This should not be.
There are too many faces. I'm lost at sea.
One last glance and to my surprise
There's your face, your smile, your eyes.
The crowd's still there but not for me.
For the face I love is all I see.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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I Will Lead You
Come along take a ride 'cross the sky for an hour
Leave your mind take your soul fill the hole with flowers
From the lake through the trees in the streets for the powder
In the creed for the freeze I gotta place this power
'Cuz I am a lie
'Cuz I am a lie
'Cuz I am a lie
'Cuz I am a lie
[Chorus:]
I will lead you for awhile
Take your place to place
Bring you to this pyre
See you face to face
Come along to this flick take your sympathy with your symphony
See this dish a wonderful wish it's the perfect kiss it's the real thing
See the pitch it's the greatest of hits it's the missing with the wishing
At least you caught a smile when you coughed awhile when you did this kissing
'Cuz I am a lie
'Cuz I am a lie
'Cuz I am a lie
'Cuz I am a lie
[Chorus]
I will lead you
I will lead you
See you face to face
Face to face
See you face to face
Face to face
Yeah
See you face to face
Face to face
I see you face to face
Yeah
song performed by by Filter from Title of Record
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eurydice: Listening: A Picture By Burne Jones
I
As sentient as a wedding-bell,
The vibrant air throbs calling her
Whose eager body, earwise curved,
Leans listening at the heart of hell.
She is one nerve of hearing, strained
To love and suffer, hope and fear-
Thus, hearkening for her Love, she waits,
Whom no man's daring heart has gained.
II
Oh, to be sound to such an ear!
Song, carol, vesper, comfort near,
Sweet words, at sweetest, whispered low,
Or dearer silence, happiest so.
By little languages of love
Her finer audience to prove;
A tenderness untried, to fit
To soul and sense so exquisite;
The blessed Orpheus to be
At last, to such Eurydice!
III
I listened in hell! I listened in hell!
Down in the dark I heard your soul
Singing mine out to the holy sun.
Deep in the dark I heard your feet
Ringing the way of Love in hell.
Into the flame you strode and stood.
Out of the flame you bore me well,
As I listened in hell.
IV
I listen in hell! I listen in hell!
Who trod the fire? Where was the scorch?
Clutched, clasped, and saved, what a tale was to tell
-Heaven come down to hell!
Oh, like a spirit you strove for my sake!
Oh, like a man you looked back for your own!
Back, though you loved me heavenly well,
Back, though you lost me. The gods did decree,
And I listen in hell.
poem by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward
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Bring Me to Life
How can you see into my eyes
Like open doors.
Leading you down into my core
Where I’ve become so numb.
Without a soul
My spirit’s sleeping somewhere cold
Until you find it there and lead it back home.
Wake me up inside.
I can’t wake up.
Wake me up inside.
Save me.
Call my name and save me from the dark.
Wake me up.
Bid my blood to run.
I can’t wake up.
Before I come undone.
Save me.
Save me from the nothing I’ve become.
Now that I know what I’m without
You can’t just leave me.
Breathe into me and make me real
Bring me to life.
Bring me to life.
I’ve been living a lie
There’s nothing inside.
Bring me to life.
Frozen inside without your touch,
Without your love, darling.
Only you are the life among the dead.
All of this sight
I can’t believe I couldn’t see
Kept in the dark
But you were there in front of me
I’ve been sleeping a 1000 years it seems.
I’ve got to open my eyes to everything.
Without a thought
Without a voice
Without a soul
Don’t let me die here
There must be something wrong.
Bring me to life.
Bring me to life.
I’ve been living a lie
There’s nothing inside.
Bring me to life
(from Evanescence)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Body And Soul
rise with me this body of mine
sail with me o' soul of thine
for mine is a matter of time
to mold a body of mine
and have a kind
i prefer, as without me
there is none, and without you
there is no me
send me a sense to my body
o' body of mine
a friend and shadow of mine
without a dime
take me from wrong to conformity
lead me from animosity
unchain my soul from vanity
for mine is a body and soul
detach me from the unknown
shine on me o' body and soul
bring me a blessing to my soul
connect and share with me o' body of mine
laugh and talk with me so fine
run and steady with me so divine
the body of my soul and awhile
take me back to my body as a child
...possibly not! i presume...
if i die, you too die
and there is no more of me then
from whence to the end
for i live(d) with you 'til then
extract from 'body and soul'
'footsteps' june 2012 v.7
opn18062012/1534
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Free Will And Fate
`You ask me why I envy not
The Monarch on his throne.
It is that I myself have got
A Kingdom of my own:
Kingdom by Free Will divine
Made inalienably mine,
Where over motions blind and brute
I live and reign supreme, a Sovereign absolute.
`Ebbing and flowing as the seas,
And surging but to drown,
Think you that I will pass to these
My Sceptre and my Crown?
Unto rebel passions give
Empire and prerogative?
They are attendants in my train,
To come when I command, and crouch as I ordain.
`If Will by long succession be
Not arbiter of Fate,
Assail its majesty, and see
If it doth abdicate.
Chains that do the body bind
Cannot manacle the mind.
What fetters may the heart control,
Nor doth the Tyrant live that can enslave the soul.
`In Spring, when linnets lift their voice
To praise the Lord and bless,
They are thus punctual of free choice,
Detesting waywardness.
Throughout earth, and sky, and sea,
Law is loving liberty,
That could, but will not, go astray,
And, free though to rebel, delighteth to obey.
`And Spirit, though encased in clay,
To sense's grovelling mood
Accepteth not, befall what may,
Ignoble servitude.
In the faggot thrust the torch,
Till the flame-tongues search and scorch.
Calmly the martyr mounts the pyre,
And smiles amid the smoke, and prays above the fire.
`Nor is it Fate directs the waves,
Or dominates the wind:
They are God's servants, not His slaves,
And they surmise His mind.
If the planets walk aright
Though the dim and trackless night,
Nor their true pathway ever miss,
Know ye it is because their Will is one with His!'
`What is it rules thy singing season?
`What is it rules thy singing season?
Instinct, that diviner Reason,
To which the wish to know seemeth a sort of treason.'
`Why dost thou ever cease to sing?
Singing is such sweet comfort, who,
If he could sing the whole year through,
Would barter it for anything?'
poem by Alfred Austin
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The Desolate City
DARK to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens.
Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars?
Desolate are the streets. Desolate is the city.
A city taken by storm, where none are left but the slain.
Sadly I rose at dawn, undid the latch of my shutters,
Thinking to let in light, but I only let in love.
Birds in the boughs were awake; I listen'd to their chaunting;
Each one sang to his love; only I was alone.
This, I said in my heart, is the hour of life and of pleasure.
Now each creature on earth has his joy, and lives in the sun,
Each in another's eyes finds light, the light of compassion,
This is the moment of pity, this is the moment of love.
Speak, O desolate city! Speak, O silence in sadness!
Where is she that I loved in my strength, that spoke to my soul?
Where are those passionate eyes that appeal'd to my eyes in passion?
Where is the mouth that kiss'd me, the breast I laid to my own?
Speak, thou soul of my soul, for rage in my heart is kindled.
Tell me, where didst thou flee in the day of destruction and fear?
See, my arms still enfold thee, enfolding thus all heaven,
See, my desire is fulfill'd in thee, for it fills the earth.
Thus in my grief I lamented. Then turn'd I from the window,
Turn'd to the stair, and the open door, and the empty street,
Crying aloud in my grief, for there was none to chide me,
None to mock my weakness, none to behold my tears.
Groping I went, as blind. I sought her house, my beloved's.
There I stopp'd at the silent door, and listen'd and tried the
latch.
Love, I cried, dost thou slumber? This is no hour for slumber,
This is the hour of love, and love I bring in my hand.
I knew the house, with its windows barr'd, and its leafless fig-tree,
Climbing round by the doorstep, the only one in the street;
I knew where my hope had climb'd to its goal and there encircled
All that those desolate walls once held, my beloved's heart.
There in my grief she consoled me. She loved me when I loved not.
She put her hand in my hand, and set her lips to my lips.
She told me all her pain and show'd me all her trouble.
I, like a fool, scarce heard, hardly return'd her kiss.
Love, thy eyes were like torches. They changed as I beheld them.
Love, thy lips were like gems, the seal thou settest on my life.
Love, if I loved not then, behold this hour thy vengeance;
This is the fruit of thy love and thee, the unwise grown wise.
Weeping strangled my voice. I call'd out, but none answer'd;
Blindly the windows gazed back at me, dumbly the door;
See whom I love, who loved me, look'd not on my yearning,
Gave me no more her hands to kiss, show'd me no more her soul.
Therefore the earth is dark to me, the sunlight blackness,
Therefore I go in tears and alone, by night and day;
Therefore I find no love in heaven, no light, no beauty,
A heaven taken by storm, where none are left but the slain!
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Prince
(originally recorded by diamond head)
Now I see his face, I see his smile
Such a lonely place, no golden mile
Eyes tell of morbid tales, of his black heart
His deeds through ages past, tell of his part
See his face, see his smile
Time to die
Yo-ooh, wo-ooh, noo
Angel from below, change my dreams
I want for glorys hour, for wealths esteem
I wish to sell my soul, to be reborn
I wish for earthly riches, dont want no crown of thorns
See his face, see his smile
Time to die
Wo-ooh, oo-ooh, noo
I was born a fool, dont want to stay that way
Devil take my soul, with diamonds you repay
I dont care for heaven, so dont you look for me to cry
And I will burn in hell, from the day I die
See his face, see his smile
Time to die
Wo-ooh, no-ooh, no
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Place De La Bastille, Paris
How dear the sky has been above this place!
Small treasures of this sky that we see here
Seen weak through prison-bars from year to year;
Eyed with a painful prayer upon God's grace
To save, and tears which stayed along the face
Lifted at sunset. Yea, how passing dear
Those nights when through the bars a wind left clear
The heaven, and moonlight soothed the limpid space!
So was it, till one night the secret kept
Safe in low vault and stealthy corridor
Was blown abroad on gospel-tongues of flame.
O ways of God, mysterious evermore!
How many on this spot have cursed and wept
That all might stand here now and own Thy Name.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Marshall's Mate
You almost heard the surface bake, and saw the gum-leaves turn --
You could have watched the grass scorch brown had there been grass to burn.
In such a drought the strongest heart might well grow faint and weak --
'Twould frighten Satan to his home -- not far from Dingo Creek.
The tanks went dry on Ninety Mile, as tanks go dry out back,
The Half-Way Spring had failed at last when Marshall missed the track;
Beneath a dead tree on the plain we saw a pack-horse reel --
Too blind to see there was no shade, and too done-up to feel.
And charcoaled on the canvas bag (`twas written pretty clear)
We read the message Marshall wrote. It said: `I'm taken queer --
I'm somewhere off of Deadman's Track, half-blind and nearly dead;
Find Crowbar, get him sobered up, and follow back,' it said.
`Let Mitchell go to Bandicoot. You'll find him there,' said Mack.
`I'll start the chaps from Starving Steers, and take the dry-holes back.'
We tramped till dark, and tried to track the pack-horse on the sands,
And just at daylight Crowbar came with Milroy's station hands.
His cheeks were drawn, his face was white, but he was sober then --
In times of trouble, fire, and flood, 'twas Crowbar led the men.
`Spread out as widely as you can each side the track,' said he;
`The first to find him make a smoke that all the rest can see.'
We took the track and followed back where Crowbar followed fate,
We found a dead man in the scrub -- but 'twas not Crowbar's mate.
The station hands from Starving Steers were searching all the week --
But never news of Marshall's fate came back to Dingo Creek.
And no one, save the spirit of the sand-waste, fierce and lone,
Knew where Jack Marshall crawled to die -- but Crowbar might have known.
He'd scarcely closed his quiet eyes or drawn a sleeping breath --
They say that Crowbar slept no more until he slept in death.
A careless, roving scamp, that loved to laugh and drink and joke,
But no man saw him smile again (and no one saw him smoke),
And, when we spelled at night, he'd lie with eyes still open wide,
And watch the stars as if they'd point the place where Marshall died.
The search was made as searches are (and often made in vain),
And on the seventh day we saw a smoke across the plain;
We left the track and followed back -- 'twas Crowbar still that led,
And when his horse gave out at last he walked and ran ahead.
We reached the place and turned again -- dragged back and no man spoke --
It was a bush-fire in the scrubs that made the cursed smoke.
And when we gave it best at last, he said, `I'LL see it through,'
Although he knew we'd done as much as mortal men could do.
`I'll not -- I won't give up!' he said, his hand pressed to his brow;
`My God! the cursed flies and ants, they might be at him now.
I'll see it so in twenty years, 'twill haunt me all my life --
I could not face his sister, and I could not face his wife.
It's no use talking to me now -- I'm going back,' he said,
`I'm going back to find him, and I will -- alive or dead!'
. . . . .
He packed his horse with water and provisions for a week,
And then, at sunset, crossed the plain, away from Dingo Creek.
We watched him tramp beside the horse till we, as it grew late,
Could not tell which was Bonypart and which was Marshall's mate.
The dam went dry at Dingo Creek, and we were driven back,
And none dared face the Ninety Mile when Crowbar took the track.
They saw him at Dead Camel and along the Dry Hole Creeks --
There came a day when none had heard of Marshall's mate for weeks;
They'd seen him at No Sunday, he called at Starving Steers --
There came a time when none had heard of Marshall's mate for years.
They found old Bonypart at last, picked clean by hungry crows,
But no one knew how Crowbar died -- the soul of Marshall knows!
And now, way out on Dingo Creek, when winter days are late,
The bushmen talk of Crowbar's ghost `what's looking for his mate';
For let the fools indulge their mirth, and let the wise men doubt --
The soul of Crowbar and his mate have travelled further out.
Beyond the furthest two-rail fence, Colanne and Nevertire --
Beyond the furthest rabbit-proof, barbed wire and common wire --
Beyond the furthest `Gov'ment' tank, and past the furthest bore --
The Never-Never, No Man's Land, No More, and Nevermore --
Beyond the Land o' Break-o'-Day, and Sunset and the Dawn,
The soul of Marshall and the soul of Marshall's mate have gone
Unto that Loving, Laughing Land where life is fresh and clean --
Where the rivers flow all summer, and the grass is always green.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crossroads
You accomplished nothing and now it's to late, you chose wich game to play
and now it's game over.
[Chorus]
Your mind is divided and you have lost your shell, you soul is
corroding and the torch is ready to burn.
You try to understand what is goin on, try to open your eyes and move your hands.
The bright light is hurting your eyes and yet you think that you are still
in the real world.
[Chorus x2]
Your mind is divided and you have lost your shell, you soul is
corroding and the torch is ready to burn.
Absolute silence, so god damn cold, your life is history but the world grows older.
Your life flashes before your eyes, you see your body floating away.
[Chorus x2]
Your mind is divided and you have lost your shell, you soul is
corroding and the torch is ready to burn.
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Can Ascend
Who can ascend God’s holy hill?
Who can call God his friend?
Who can declare he’s done God’s will
And so his soul defend
Can you with heart and soul deny?
That sin has held your hand
So innocent you’ll never die
As God has always planned
Can you stand Jesus face to face?
Stand eye to eye with light
Declare your life’s so full of grace
In robes of brilliant white
Have you a soul so dazzling clean
A heart so rich and sure
That nothing can enter in between
Revealing ought impure
If yes is not your answer friend
If one of them is no
Then help you need before the end
Before to sleep you go
You need God’s Flame to burn inside
God’s Son to stand you by
Accept God’s Lamb for you has died
Before my friend you die
With God there is no darkness there
With God there is no night
No lie will live nor have a share
Where God displays His Light
No place for sin no place for shame
No place for flesh is made
Eternal stands The Righteous Flame
Who’s radiance cannot fade
poem by Michael P. Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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