One Mood's Expression
See, Lord, fanatics all arrayed
For revolution!
To foil their villainous crusade
Unsheathe again the sacred blade
Of persecution.
What though through long disuse 't is grown
A trifle rusty?
'Gainst modern heresy, whose bone
Is rotten, and the flesh fly-blown,
It still is trusty.
Of sterner stuff thine ancient foes,
Unapprehensive,
Sprang forth to meet thy biting blows;
Our zealots chiefly to the nose
Assume the offensive.
Then wield the blade their necks to hack,
Nor ever spare one.
Thy crowns of martyrdom unpack,
But see that every martyr lack
The head to wear one.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Related quotes
Johnny Blade
Tortured and twisted, he walks the streets alone
People avoid him, they know the streets his own
Cold blade of silver, his eyes they burn so wild
Mean as a tiger, societys own child
Go the tiger, burn in hate
You know you have to, johnny blade
Hes the meanest guy around his town
One look and he will cut you down
Johnny blade, johnny blade
Life has no meaning, and deaths his only friend
Will fate surprise him, where will he meet his end?
He feels so bitter, yes hes so full of hate
To die in the gutter, I guess thats johnnys fate
Rivals all across the land
He kills them with his knife in hand
Hes the meanest guy around his town
One look and he will cut you down
Johnny blade, johnny blade
Johnny blade, johnny blade
Well you know that johnnys a spider
And his web is the city at night
Hes a victim of modern frustration
Thats the reason hes so ready to fight
Hes the one that should be afraid
What will happen to you, johnny blade?
Oh he knows his futures decided
And he aint gonna change it, no way
He was born to die in the gutter
Hell keep fighting 'till the end of his days
Been alone all through his life
His only friend is a switchblade knife
Hes the one who should be afraid
What will happen to you, johnny blade?
You fool the people
Whos fooling who?
Its time to listen
Whos fool are you?
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Man for All Seasons
The sunlight is too bright for me-
I was in prison for so long.
My trial, a show staged by the Court,
condemned before I spoke a word.
I thought, by silence, to preserve
my family from Penury.
I counted not on Richard Rich-
compensed to commit perjury.
“Lieutenant, help me up these stairs
I’ll find my own way down, I think.”
Though weak, I stand and face the crowd
Some bravely bless me as I speak.
“I die loyal servant to my king
But I give primacy to God.”
(I would not take the proffered oath
That would make Henry more than Lord)
“I give my life for Holy Church
like Fisher did before me.”
Catherine is my rightful Queen
Anne Boleyn, King’s plaything..
“Axe man; spare my beard I pray-
my “Treason’s” not its doing.”
By your blade is More made less?
No, More serves God in heaven.
To those who caused his Martyrdom
The blade was less forgiving.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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But the community knew Blade, and everybody but us was shocked at the box office, and subsequently the DVD. That was the beginning of the DVD revolution, and Blade was just like wildfire.
Six Blade Knife
Your six blade knife can do anything for you
Anything you want it to
One blade for breaking my heart
One blade for tearing me apart
Your six blade knife-do anything for you
You can take away my mind like you take away the top of a tin
When you come up from behind and lay it down cold on my skin
Took a stone from my soul when I was lame
Just so you could make me tame
You take away my mind like you take away the top of a tin
Id like to be free of it now - I dont want it no more
Id like to be free of it now - you know I dont want it no more
Everybody got a knife it can be just what they want it to be
A needle a wife or something that you just cant see
You know it keeps you strong
Yes and itll do me wrong
Your six blade knife - do anything for you
song performed by by Dire Straits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blade There are worse things out tonight than vampires. Dr. Karen Jenson Like what Blade Like me.
Free Verse
I now delight
In spite
Of the might
And the right
Of classic tradition,
In writing
And reciting
Straight ahead,
Without let or omission,
Just any little rhyme
In any little time
That runs in my head;
Because, I’ve said,
My rhymes no longer shall stand arrayed
Like Prussian soldiers on parade
That march,
Stiff as starch,
Foot to foot,
Boot to boot,
Blade to blade,
Button to button,
Cheeks and chops and chins like mutton.
No! No!
My rhymes must go
Turn ’ee, twist ’ee,
Twinkling, frosty,
Will-o’-the-wisp-like, misty;
Rhymes I will make
Like Keats and Blake
And Christina Rossetti,
With run and ripple and shake.
How pretty
To take
A merry little rhyme
In a jolly little time
And poke it,
And choke it,
Change it, arrange it,
Straight-lace it, deface it,
Pleat it with pleats,
Sheet it with sheets
Of empty conceits,
And chop and chew,
And hack and hew,
And weld it into a uniform stanza,
And evolve a neat,
Complacent, complete,
Academic extravaganza!
poem by Robert Graves
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The Unforgiving Blade
When the sky is turning black, you fear the dawn
Your inner voice compels you, but youre all alone
Thy secret sense lies still obscure within your shattered dreams,
and all you can do is scream
Long ago you spoke the words of heresy
Twenty years of running brings back memories
All your wisdom made me seek the truth that lied beyond
my inner dreams
Follow the one that fell from the crimson skies
I remember the words, I can never forget your demise
And now your worlds falling down
For all the games that you played
And as your souls falling down
Youll meet The Unforgiving Blade
Should have seen it coming
when you rolled the dice
Deeper and deeper, falling,
away from your paradise
Solo: Stefan
Innocent eyes observing the Crimson Skies,
awaiting for someone to heal the burning lies
And now your worlds falling down
For all the games that you played
And as your souls falling down
Youll meet The Unforgiving Blade
And now your
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Digging Skeleton
I
In the anatomical plates
displayed on the dusty quays
where many a dry book sleeps
mummified, as in ancient days,
drawings to which the gravity
and skill of some past artist,
despite the gloomy subject
have communicated beauty,
you’ll see, and it renders those
gruesome mysteries more complete,
flayed men, and skeletons posed,
farm-hands, digging the soil at their feet.
II
Peasants, dour and resigned,
convicts pressed from the grave,
what’s the strange harvest, say,
for which you hack the ground,
bending your backbones there,
flexing each fleshless sinew,
what farmer’s barn must you
labour to fill with such care?
Do you seek to show – by that pure,
and terrible, emblem of too hard
a fate! – that even in the bone-yard
the promised sleep’s far from sure:
that even the Void’s a traitor:
that even Death tells us lies,
that in some land new to our eyes,
we must, perhaps, alas, forever,
and ever, and ever, eternally,
wield there the heavy spade,
scrape the dull earth, its blade
beneath our naked, bleeding feet?
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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For E. McC
Gone while your tastes were keen to you,
Gone where the grey winds call to you,
By that high fencer, even Death,
Struck of the blade that no man parrieth;
Such is your fence, one saith,
One that hath known you.
Drew you your sword most gallantly
Made you your pass most valiantly
'Gainst that grey fencer, even Death.
Gone as a gust of breath
Faith! no man tarrieth,
‘Se il cor ti manca,’ but it failed thee not!
'Non ti fidar,’ it is the sword that speaks
‘In me.’
Thou trusted'st in thyself and met the blade
'Thout mask or gauntlet, and art laid
As memorable broken blades that be
Kept as bold trophies of old pageantry.
As old Toledos past their days of war
Are kept mnemonic of the strokes they bore,
So art thou with us, being good to keep
In our heart's sword-rack, though thy sword-arm sleep.
ENVOI
Struck of the blade that no man parrieth
Pierced of the point that toucheth lastly all,
'Gainst that grey fencer, even Death,
Behold the shield! He shall not take thee all.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Song II
Why flatter thyself, Tyrant,
In ways great in evil?
The Lord's goodness ceases not
Keeping watch on the pious.
Keener yet than the keenest
Blade, thy tongue watches
To generate wild untruth
And plot slander' gainst the good.
Evil's thy love, not sacred virtues;
A lier's thy love, not a truthsayer;
Thine own accursed eye in joy
Gazes at treason most infectious.
For this the Lord God shall fling
Thee from the midst of His people;
Grinding thee to dust, aye, thy home
He'll rend asunder from the very earth.
Seeing this, he who was wronged
Shall fear the power of the Lord;
With the evil one swifty dispensed,
In safety shall he rejoice.
Saying: "So for him who in evil
Lay his trust, in power, in clever device;
Who mocked those lamenting in plight,
Whilst his own God he'd forgot.
But I, like unto an Olive tree
Grafted in the Lord's garden,
Unfearing I'll blossom forth
In my hope of heaven's defence.
And unto everyone, Lord, Thee
Would I claim iniquity's slayer;
And having in Thee my trust,
All manner of afflictions I'll bear."
poem by Mikolaj Sep Szarzynski
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Tear Off Your Own Head (It's A Doll Revolution)
Who dries your eyes when you cry real tears?
Who knows or cares what imitation is?
Only you do
You can paint his nails
Make him wear high heels
Why waste time altering the hemline?
Or do you?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
You can bat your lashes
You can cut your strings
Pull out his hair with your moveable fingers
It looks so real
But one won't do, so collect the set
Dress him in pink ribbons
Put him in a kitchenette
How does this feel?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
You can pull and pinch him
'Til he cries and squeals
You can twist his body
'Til it faces backwards
Plastic features
Could make somebody a pretty little wife
But don't let anybody tell you
How to live your life
Broken pieces
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
It's a doll revolution
Revolution (revolution)
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head (revolution)
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My New Best Friend The Blade
i love my new best friend the blade
It cuts the pain away out of my body
I love my new best friend The blade
As i cut into my skin a smile appears
I love my new best friend the blade
As the blood drip from my bestfriend
I love my best friend the blade
It takes the pain away for a short time
Cant Wait to see my best friend
poem by Ari Castillo
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My Revolution
(casino steel/ian hunter/dangerfield)
You were just a twinkle in your teenage mothers eyes
I was squeezing brylcreem on my hair
No one taught us how to be politically correct
And no one told our winkles what to wear
Ive been there, Ive done it
Ive seen it all
That was my contribution oh-oh
So much for the revolution
When someone said, lets go to bed nobody was scared
We were up to no good all the time
Judging by those freckles and the shades upon your nose
Its possible you could be one of mine
Ive been there, Ive done it
Ive seen it all
That was my revolution
On the road again, back at number ten
Underneath the lights a thousand and one nights
A revolution for fun
You better lock up your mum
Ive been there, Ive done it
Well, Ive seen them come and go
Thats for you to guess and thats for me to know
Oh, baby
Thats for you to guess and thats for me to know
So much for revolution
So much for revolution
That was my revolution
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Assassing
(derek dick, steve rothery, mark kelly, pete trewavas, ian mosley)
I am the assassin, with tongue forged from eloquence
I am the assassin, providing your nemesis
On the sacrificial altar to success, my friend
Unleash a stranger from a kiss, my friend
No incantations of remorse, my friend
Unsheathe the blade within the voice, my friend
My friend, my friend, my friend
I am the assassin
Who decorates the scarf with the fugi knot
Who camouflaged emotion in a thousand yard stare
Who gouged the notches from the family tree
Who hypnotised the guilt in career rhythm trance
Assassing, assassing, assassing, assassing
Listen to the blade, feel the blade!
Listen as the syllables of slaughter cat with calm precision
Patterned frosty phrases rape your ears and sow the ice incision
Adjectives of annihilation
Bury the point beyond redemption
Venomous verbs of ruthless candour
Plagiarise assassins fervour
Apocalyptic alphabet casting spell
The creed of tempered diction
My friend, your friend the assassin
My friend, your friend the assassin
A friend in need is a friend that bleeds
A friend in need is a friend that bleeds
Let bitter silence infect the wound
Let bitter silence infect the wound
I am the assassin, my friend
I am the assassin, my friend
I am the assassin, my friend
You were a sentimental mercenary in a free fire zone parading a hollywood conscience
You were a fashionable objector with a uniform fetish
Pavlovian slaver at the cash till ring of success
A non com observer
I assassin the collector
Defector
So you resigned yourself to failure, my friend
And I emerged the chilling stranger, my friend
To eradicate the problem, my friend
Unsheathe the blade within the voice, within the voice
Within the voice, within the voice
And what do you call assassins who accuse assassins anyway, my friend?
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bladesmith Alchemy
He toils over fire fueled by coke
Forging a fine Damascus blade
Coaxes, cajoles, at last invokes
A sacred fire totem…unafraid
The Bladesmith knows;
Salamanders can pass thru fire
Unburnt/unharmed by such heat
A tempered blade its one desire
Lest, this fine sword be incomplete
Thru blade salamander does pass
Pursued by fiery flames from hell
Thru blinding smoke of sulfur gas
Mission done, he bids “farewell”
Revealed here the secret of 'Damascus Steel'
Perfected by one tiny amphibian's ordeal
(Inspired by Howlin Dervish)
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Upon The Altar Of My Lord
I offer my words up freely,
upon the altar of my God.
I come to this sacred place freely,
of my own free will to serve to pray.
This ancient sacred place this land,
this holy sacred God given ground;
is where in my humble veneration,
in worship I lay my offering down.
I have nothing more; to humbly offer pray.
I have while materially poor nothing more,
than time of value worth to humbly offer pray;
this is all I have I here in true worship bore,
I offer before my most high my sacred Lord.
Near on thirty years ago, I made this sacred vow,
with my soul heart head, bowed in breath low;
though my flesh remains, be still struggle weak,
this vow before God in worship I honour keep.
I thank my wondrous Lord, who let me humbly come here pray.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Two Veterans
Side by side near the road they stand
Like grave old men grown wise with years,
Veterans twain in this forest land,
Marching together, hand to hand,
Sober as ancient seers.
Gnarled and bitten and scarred and bent,
Sap run sluggish and youth all spent,
They lift spare limbs to the heartening sky,
World-worn and weary, yet loth to die.
They had known the bite of the blunt stone axe
(Wounds like warrior's long healed scars)
When they hid the quarry of hunting blacks,
Ranging the forest with eyes on the tracks
That led to these lusty spare
Spars grown old ere the spoilers came
To give this forest to blade and flame;
Too old to profit that ruthless greed
Which their likelier kinsmen went to feed.
For eight score summers the winds that blow
Down thro' the forest have worked their will;
For eight score winters storm and snow,
Frost and fury have bowed them low;
Yet stand the veterans still,
By the side of the road where the cars run down
With their transient freights to the mushroom town;
And they lift spare limbs to the deathless sky,
World-worn and weary, yet loth to die.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Song Of Proserpine While Gathering Flowers On The Plain Of Enna
Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth,
Thou from whose immortal bosom
Gods and men and beasts have birth,
Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom,
Breathe thine influence most divine
On thine own child, Proserpine.
If with mists of evening dew
Thou dost nourish these young flowers
Till they grow in scent and hue
Fairest children of the Hours,
Breathe thine influence most divine
On thine own child, Proserpine.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Change of life style
The revolution teaches
Change of life style
In a revolution one must
Be a Victor not martyr
In a revolution one must
Take the people with him
In a revolution there must
Be a triumphof good
Over evil.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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This balde
This blade was,
Once silver but,
Is now blood red.
What have I done,
I have to hide again,
The tears have fallen,
For another night.
My arm is now covered,
In blood red stains,
I wish i could erase,
All my pain.
The blade was sarrated,
The worst type of all,
Smooth ends are dated,
Just like blades that are small.
This blade was,
Once silver but,
Is now blood red.
What have I done,
I'm falling asleep,
Again
written 19th may 2010
poem by Jess Jayne
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