Bastille day, French revolution
After a costly foreign war,
Injustices angered the poor,
The king didn't much seem to care,
So calls to rebel filled the air,
Once passions had begun to stir,
Blood spilt so power could transfer,
The status quo began to fear,
Whilst the left felt their day was near,
Fuelled by an unfaltering will,
Revolution dawned closer still,
Brave souls stormed and took the Bastille,
Then celebrated the ordeal,
Hailed were the seeds of the king's fall,
First by few nationals then by all,
The chance to bare one's heart and soul,
Unites the country as a whole.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Boudicca
A past king of East Anglia,
Ruled with men from a foreign shore,
Despite a cultural barrier,
There was no cruel bloody war,
Life was better than twas elsewhere,
But of somethings all weren't aware,
Had all intentions been made clear,
There would have been due cause to fear,
Lest it ends up being misplaced,
Choose carefully where to put trust,
Failure to means what's to be faced,
Could well seem to be unjust,
Alliances don't always last,
When the king died things changed fast,
As their claim to the land was lost,
The common people paid the cost,
Once the Anglian king was dead,
His wishes were not respected,
Liberties were taken instead,
Which ruined all those affected,
Though she'd once been by a king's side,
Boudica's will was defied,
She ended up battered and bruised,
Whilst her three daughters were abused,
The cheated despised their fate,
As the hardships faced caused them pain,
The people boiled inside with hate,
For they had no voice to complain,
Men were burdened with debts and shame,
Due to how hard their lives became,
Thing seemed to get worse by the day,
Which brought about yet more dismay,
A rare chance was happened upon,
That put in doubt the ruler's reign,
For whilst their troops were briefly gone,
People felt their plight need not remain,
They believed that their former queen,
Could make things how they had once been,
Sure their land could be theirs again,
She rallied together the men,
Passions were fuelled a great extent,
Many had call for an outlet,
These people made war their intent,
Giving their foes due cause to fret,
All across the land waves were felt,
Owing to the change of hand dealt,
The rebels obtained much support,
Ready for battles to be fought,
Days would see very little calm,
For to war all were to succumb,
The foes met came to the most harm,
Because they found themselves overcome,
The offensive achieved its aim,
Making the land seem free to claim,
Whilst enemies had met their doom,
For twas the due thing to assume,
To secure the land as their own,
Rebels took revenge on their foe,
Which most would struggle to condone,
They didn't have any remorse though,
The foreigners struggled to cope,
And found themselves with dwindling hope,
The threat which the rebels did pose,
Couldn't be crushed when it arose,
The rebels sought havoc to wreak,
As they went on a killing spree,
They slew both the strong and the weak,
Whilst dismissing their every plea,
No mercy to which to appeal,
Meant some suffered a grave ordeal,
The much unexpected defeat,
Almost called for all out retreat,
Nothing kept the rebels in check,
They left thousands dead in their wake,
Towns were pillaged and left a wreck,
And damage done for vengeance sake,
The changes to the land were stark,
As the disturbance left its mark,
Boudica had her land back,
But her plans did not stay on track,
The foreigners suffered much loss,
But came back as a stronger force,
Determined to quell the chaos,
And bring their schemes onto course,
The foreigners found their success,
With skills others didn't possess,
Their true might was shocking to face,
So they in time secured their place,
All of Boudica's dreams died,
As she had to give up her fight,
She suffered a blow to her pride,
Since she'd not quelled her people's plight,
Boudica left this life,
Escaping from all of her strife,
She lived on though she weren't alive,
For her story was to survive.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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I Didn't Want It Around
I sat and chatted with the fear I was given.
I had grown accustomed to it and grew tired.
And asked of it before I angered...
Why it felt comfortable to sit with me.
Why I had to look over my shoulder,
To acknowledge its presence?
And if it was not there...
Why was I out to find it?
To identify it.
And attract it back into my life.
And why was it closer to me than anyone?
I wanted an answer.
I looked fear in the face.
And I demanded that it leave me.
With doubt and all of its associates.
I did not realize how easy that was.
I knew then...
For fear to go,
I had to release my hold of it!
It was only there because I allowed it to visit!
And I didn't care who or what gave fear to me.
I didn't want it around!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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King Of Somewhere Hot
King of somewhere hot
By: jimmy buffett, ralph macdonald, william salter, robert greenidge
1988
Robert greenidge and ralph macdonald finally got me to trinidad and when I heard the desperados playing my song up on laventhill I felt like a king and it was hot.
Ive travelled all around the world
And there are places that still stand out to me
None can really quite compare
To my island in the sea
My personal utopia
A place to run to where I can hide away
Where I can truly reign supreme
Somewhere fresh and clean where a man can dream
Chorus:
Im king, (king) king of somewhere hot
Im king, (king) like every man should be
Im king, (king) king of somewhere hot
Where the music in my soul(music in my soul)
Makes me start to lose control (start to lose control)
And Ill melt right on the spot
Im the king of somewhere hot (hot)
King of somewhere hot (hot)
King of somewhere hot (hot)
King of somewhere hot (hot)
Now you just rent yourself a tile and dance the night away
Just like the locals do
A million miles from robin leach, life is just a beach
So far out of reach
Chorus:
Im king, (king) king of somewhere hot
Im king, (king) like every man should be
Im king, (king) king of somewhere hot
Where the music in my soul(music in my soul)
Makes me start to lose control (start to lose control)
And Ill melt right on the spot
Im the king of somewhere hot (hot)
King of somewhere hot (hot)
King of somewhere hot (hot)
King of somewhere hot (hot)
So hot!
(pan solo)
Some day I hope to find my queen I know shell come my way
Ill give her all my love
Its not a complicated thing someplace I can swing
Where a man can be a king
Chorus:
Im king, (king) king of somewhere hot
Im king, (king) like every man should be
Im king, (king) king of somewhere hot
I dont care how hard you look (dont care how hard you look)
Ooh you wont find me in the book (wont find me in the book)
cause Im here right on the spot
Oh! Im the king of somewhere hot (hot)
King of somewhere hot (to trot)
King of somewhere hot (hot)
Hot to trot
King of somewhere hot (to trot)
(king of somewhere hot)
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bastille Day
Words and music by geddy lee, alex lifeson, and neil peart
Theres no bread, let them eat cake
Theres no end to what theyll take
Flaunt the fruits of noble birth
Wash the salt into the earth
But theyre marching to bastille day la guillotine will claim
Her bloody prize free the dungeons of the innocent the king
Will kneel, and let his kingdom rise
Bloodstained velvet, dirty lace
Naked fear on every face
See them bow their heads to die
As we would bow as they rode by
And were marching to bastille day la guillotine will claim
Her bloody prize sing, o choirs of cacophony the king has
Kneeled, to let his kingdom rise
Lessons taught but never learned
All around us anger burns
Guide the future by the past
Long ago the mould was cast
For they marched up to bastille day la guillotine -- claimed
Her bloody prize hear the echoes of the centuries power isnt
All that money buys
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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King's Oath
I'm the king
I'm the son of nobody
Due I respect others my family
Take care my people my own blood
Every step of my country is my home
Everything belong to the land
I'll protect them
I don't walk from man's hand
I rule on my own feet
I take pride, I take responsibility
If there's night, let me fall with
I'm the king
I don't last forever
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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King
Now is the time to reach for the sky
Gather the wind hear the voice to fly
To know why they sing about heroes and kings
Who were brave and not afraid to die
Look and you'll see that a new day will bring
The will to go on and fight through endless suffering
For all who believe wait a crown a ring
The power of the man who would be king
The power of the man who would be king
Into the fight of hopes and dreams
The master of the wind knows nothing's what is seems
The melting of the soul the wish of those who scheme
The taking of the will by destroyers of the dream
They live to spread the fear of the wrong of right of self
They want us all to live like books upon a shelf
But we know we have the power to fight and make a stand
Strike when we are challenged all across the land to be king
Fight for the crown
song performed by by Manowar from Louder Than Hell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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King Without A Crown
Welcome to the great republic
Guess I should show you round
Where once I was a king
And now I am a clown
The love that we once shared
Made a king of me
But now youre gone... but now youre gone
All I face is poverty
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Oh Im a king without a crown
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Oh Im a king without a crown
Hell hath no fury
Like a woman scorned
But heaven dont boast - no heaven dont boast
The jewel - the pretty jewel I just pawned
Every cloud has a silver lining
Every dog has its day
Oh but I guess the sun stopped shining
On the day you went away
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Oh Im a king without a crown
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Oh Im a king without a crown
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Yes Im a king - king! king without a crown
Bathed in former glory
Deposed from my throne
How do I get to tell my story?
When all gets your answerphone...
But you aint home
With the love you gave
I felt like royalty
But now youre face to face - face to face
With one ex-member of the aristocracy
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Oh Im a king without a crown
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Oh Im a king without a crown
Theres no need to feel down
Yeah just take a look around
Youll see a man whos just a man
Nothing more
A king without a crown
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My man he cried today...
My man he cried today…
He looked at me all filled with fear
For he knew not what he would hear
Because believe me now when I say
My man he cried today
His face it bled from the from the beauty of his soul
This crystal clear waterfall it poured out of control
So believe me now when I say
My man he cried today
This emotion to him felt wrong
As it was forbidden for so long
But believe me now when I say
My man he cried today
He covered himself with his hands so strong
And repeatedly told me by me he’ll never do wrong
Down to the ground he knelt on one knee
And hailed me like a queen for all to see
For believe me when I say
My man he cried today
This passion he felt burning
Was released like the glory of morning
The love he felt was strong indeed
And I knew a man like him surely a rare breed
And believe me now what I say
My man he cried today
So I knelt down besides him and let him take me all in
For from here on now our lives shall begin
My soul is his now
And to my king I bow
And again I say my man he cried today
Our love so pure
All it shall cure
My man he cried
Lips upon lips
Heart upon heart
My man he cried
So I looked up filled with glee
As this man cried with me
And when I tell you this, you must believe
This man I will never leave
And now you know why when I say my man and I we cried today!
Lerato Ladyfair Shuping
poem by Lerato Shuping
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This Side of the Truth
(for Llewelyn)
This side of the truth,
You may not see, my son,
King of your blue eyes
In the blinding country of youth,
That all is undone,
Under the unminding skies,
Of innocence and guilt
Before you move to make
One gesture of the heart or head,
Is gathered and spilt
Into the winding dark
Like the dust of the dead.
Good and bad, two ways
Of moving about your death
By the grinding sea,
King of your heart in the blind days,
Blow away like breath,
Go crying through you and me
And the souls of all men
Into the innocent
Dark, and the guilty dark, and good
Death, and bad death, and then
In the last element
Fly like the stars' blood
Like the sun's tears,
Like the moon's seed, rubbish
And fire, the flying rant
Of the sky, king of your six years.
And the wicked wish,
Down the beginning of plants
And animals and birds,
Water and Light, the earth and sky,
Is cast before you move,
And all your deeds and words,
Each truth, each lie,
Die in unjudging love.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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The Storming of the Bastille
In France on the 14th July people eat out, remembering a fact:
On the 14th July 1789 there was the invention of the restaurant.
That day there was the storming of the Bastille
However one has to eat every day.
The Bastille held seven prisoners: among them, four youngs.
That one was the revolution of the lawyers: Robespierre, Danton, Saint Just;
They became judges, cut the heads of dad king and mom queen.
Had those sovereigns their heads? People needed bread.
Marat was struggling with his eczema in a bathtub,
He fell on the battlefield. Citoyens, people are hungry.
Oh Jacobins your heads didn't survive, either.
Maybe it's expensive today but, Lesbia, can I invite you to dinner?
Aux armes, citoyens.
poem by Paolo Giuseppe Mazzarello
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Timor Mortis
'For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother . . . . .
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here.'
King Henry V–Act IV, sc. 3 (King's speech prior to the battle of Agincourt).
I WEND my ways with one dire dread
Now daily in my heart:
The fear of death obsesses me–
The fear that I may pass
Too soon for my desiring eyes to see
The English camps, and for my feet to tread
The English green-sward grass;
That I, who've heard my God's, my King's, my Country's claims
And, though belated, have at length begun
A larger life of holier aims
Than was my wont, may suddenly depart
This shattered world to utter oblivion,
Ere I, in Christian chivalry,
With brave, devoted comrades dauntlessly have stood face to the foe
On Flanders' fatal fields and struck a single blow
For man's dear brotherhood and world-wide liberty,
Or ere, upon the blood-steeped slopes
Of France, I've met–mine eyes afront, my soul quite undismayed–
The Hunnish cannons' fearful fusilade
Or done my share to still the Hunnish hopes,
And thus to leave secure, ev'n if by my poor martyrdom,
A happier heritage to generations yet to come.
Dear God, oh, privilege me the fullest bloom
Of vital-strength, that I may pay the price
For my too selfish, easeful days; spare me to live
That I, if it should be Thy will, may sacrifice
The meagre all I now can give,
And, falling, lie obscurely laid within a nameless tomb.
Perchance, round where mine unknown grave may be,
Unshaded by Canadian maples, unsung by winds from my Acadian sea,
I shall in spirit-state revisit foreign slope or plain
On which I fell, and there aloft descry
The Flag of England still flaunting victory to the sky,
'Neath where the hellish holocaust once swept amain,
And I shall know I died not in dishonour nor in vain,
But that I may, at home, in peace, untried, yield up my breath–
This is my direst dread, my fear, of thee, O Death!
poem by John Daniel Logan
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Prologue Spoken the First Day of the King's House Acting After the Fire
So shipwracked passengers escape to land,
So look they, when on the bare beach they stand,
Dropping and cold, and their first fear scarce o'er,
Expecting famine on a desert shore.
From that hard climate we must wait for bread,
Whence even the natives, forced by hunger, fled.
Our stage does human chance present to view,
But ne'er before was seen so sadly true:
You are changed too, and your pretence to see
Is but a nobler name for charity.
Your own provisions furnish out our feasts,
While you, the founders, make yourselves the guests.
Of all mankind beside, fate had some care,
But for poor Wit no portion did prepare,
'Tis left a rent-charge to the brave and fair.
You cherished it, and now its fall you mourn,
Which blind unmannered zealots make their scorn,
Who think that fire a judgment on the stage,
Which spared not temples in its furious rage.
But as our new-built city rises higher,
So from old theatres may new aspire,
Since fate contrives magnificence by fire.
Our great metropolis does far surpass
Whate'er is now, and equals all that was:
Our wit as far does foreign wit excel,
And, like a king, should in a palace dwell.
But we with golden hopes are vainly fed
Talk high, and entertain you in a shed:
Your presence here, for which we humbly sue
Will grace old theatres, and build up new.
poem by John Dryden
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The prisoner of his conscience (Story Poem)
He was very poor and he married a rich woman
So he got money but he became a very sad man
She couldn't have children, even it wasn't his game plan
One day he saw a widow walking down the street ''It's later'
He told her calmly and begun to discuss about life with her
He didn't know why he suddenly felt to touch her so tender
He understood her when she confessed her cried coeur
Saying that she had three grown children and she was very poor
And she had to work as housemaid at a loudmouthed boor
She was in pain and he felt that and to help her was his concern
He wanted to take care of her family asking nothing in return
He thought never to dishonor her acting as a father to her children
He begun to understand how unhappy was the woman he loved
When he left her for another one and she became so grieved
He asked her to talk about his feelings for her and she approved
He wanted to divorce to marry her and take care of her needs
Certainly he wanted to become an adoptive father of her kids
To make her the mother of his future children he made a bid
His wife didn't agree to divorce but he left her on her demand
He took the widow and went to find their soul in a far away land
His wife got crazy and she killed herself they found her on the sand
He went to her funeral to see her last time without annoyance
He begun to scream releasing something deeper and fierce
Without his wish releasing the prisoner of his conscience.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Running To Paradise
As I came over Windy Gap
They threw a halfpenny into my cap.
For I am running to paradise;
And all that I need do is to wish
And somebody puts his hand in the dish
To throw me a bit of salted fish:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
My brother Mourteen is worn out
With skelping his big brawling lout,
And I am running to paradise;
A poor life, do what he can,
And though he keep a dog and a gun,
A serving-maid and a serving-man:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
Poor men have grown to be rich men,
And rich men grown to be poor again,
And I am running to paradise;
And many a darling wit's grown dull
That tossed a bare heel when at school,
Now it has filled a old sock full:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
The wind is old and still at play
While I must hurty upon my way.
For I am running to paradise;
Yet never have I lit on a friend
To take my fancy like the wind
That nobody can buy or bind:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The whole world is in revolt. Soon there will be only five Kings left--the King of England, the King of Spades, The King of Clubs, the King of Hearts, and the King of Diamonds.
quote by King Farouk of Egypt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The whole world is in revolt. Soon there will be only five Kings left--the King of England, the King of Spades, The King of Clubs, the King of Hearts, and the King of Diamonds.
quote by King Farouk of Egypt (1948)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Chadaev
The lies of fame and love’s resolve
Have vanished now without a trace,
Our youthful passions have dissolved
As though a dream or morning haze.
Yet, still, we’re burning with desire,
And with impatience in our souls,
Beneath the yoke of strength and fire,
We hark our country’s pleading calls.
In expectation, full of ardor,
The day of freedom we await, --
Thus waits a youthful, eager lover
The moment of the promised date.
And whilst with liberty we burn,
And whilst our hearts adore ovation,
Our country needs us, - let us turn
And dedicate our soul’s elation.
My friend, believe me that with thunder,
The star of joy will rise again!
And Russia will arise from slumber,
Our names will be incised with wonder
On remnants of oppressive reign!
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Kick
Hey, Miss Magdalene girl sympathy mind hey, Miss Magdalene girl power. Power off, yeah grant a flesh show meek inherit nothing but death song queen sex go-go moving like a bad dream promised so long ago blessed art thou among women is this easy come is this easy go mingled with fear you get what you wish, wish, wish, wish, wish Gabriel get out this is my Nazareth wicked joy trembling town wicked joy be a raging machine chosen worthy to explode a king a king, king, king, king, king, king, king, king drilling down deep inside heartache tests the pain girls on the bar swing around danger does the same Magdalene, Magdalene, Magdalene, Magdalene peace grants suspicious crashing like some animals southern terror claws scream
song performed by by White Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Farewell My Rebel Latvian (For Erica)
Farewell my noble rebel so cold and deep the grave
But you were not afraid of death and you were always brave
You were my favourite brother the one I loved the best
The rebel heart from Latvia has gone to peaceful rest.
I remember back in Germany when you and your friend ran away
You planned to go to Latvia to join the rebel fray
But of course ye did not make it as ye were far too young
you were the lad of action who spoke with rebel tongue.
Farewell my brother Johnny you never lived to see
the greatest dream you ever had that Latvia might be free,
Free of the tyrant Soviets and their brutality
We had so much in common we loved our own Country.
Farewell my rebel Latvian with dignity you died
You bore your suffering bravely and and faced the end with pride
God thought you'd suffered too much and on your life quenched the light
And now you're in a freer World where you won't have to fight
Farewell my rebel brother my heart is flood with tears
You were my king and hero in hard and bitter years
But god he loved you better he took you from your pain
And we will meet in heaven I know we'll meet again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The mother and father of all emotions, the queen and king, are love and fear. Love unites, it brings us closer to an understanding of the possibility of beauty amidst all the confusion and pain that life can bring. Hate is a disease.
Colin Farrell in Flaunt Magazine (2010)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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