I Do Know My Steps
I desire mercy and not sacrifice,
For you may either be a royal subject to me or a rebel;
And like the many dead bodies i do see around me.
Even if i am drunk, i do know my steps;
So don't go into my office and disturb my books!
For out of them comes wisdom to teach the world all over.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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God Full Of Mercy
God-Full-of-Mercy, the prayer for the dead.
If God was not full of mercy,
Mercy would have been in the world,
Not just in Him.
I, who plucked flowers in the hills
And looked down into all the valleys,
I, who brought corpses down from the hills,
Can tell you that the world is empty of mercy.
I, who was King of Salt at the seashore,
Who stood without a decision at my window,
Who counted the steps of angels,
Whose heart lifted weights of anguish
In the horrible contests.
I, who use only a small part
Of the words in the dictionary.
I, who must decipher riddles
I don't want to decipher,
Know that if not for the God-full-of-mercy
There would be mercy in the world,
Not just in Him.
Translated from the Hebrew by Barbara and Benjamin Harshav
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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A Question To My Lover
what is it that i
desire really from you?
is it your body?
is it your wisdom?
is it your time?
is it your concern?
i have tasted
every skin of your body
i have taken much
of your time
i have listened from
your wisdom
i have much of your
care
and yet i am still
empty
i have consumed you
like bread and
have drunk you like
a glass of wine
yet there is still something
that i desire from you
and yet i still do not know
or is it that it is not
really you that i desire
but someone else?
and how many more?
yes how many more
shall i waste and yet find
no answer?
will you finally kill me at
the end of this
betrayal?
what is it that i desire?
self, tell me now.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Lost Battle
It is not over yet-the fight
Where those immortal dreamers failed.
They stormed the citadels of night,
And the night praised them-and prevailed.
So long ago the cause was lost
We scarce distinguish friend from foe;
But-if the dead can help it most-
The armies of the dead will grow.
The world has all our banners now,
And filched our watchwords for its own.
The world has crowned the ' rebel's ' brow
And millions crowd his lordly throne.
The masks have altered. Names are names.
They praise the 'truth' that is not true.
The ' rebel' that the world acclaims
Is not the rebel Shelley knew.
We may not build that Commonweal,
We may not reach the goal we set;
But there's a flag they dare not steal.
Forward! It is not over yet.
We shall be dust and under dust,
Before we end that ancient wrong;
But there's a sword that cannot rust,
And where's the death can touch a song?
So, when our bodies rot in earth,
The singing souls that once were ours,
Weaponed with light and helmed with mirth,
Shall front the kingdoms and the powers.
The ancient lie is on its throne,
And half the living still forget;
But, since the dead are all our own,
Courage, it is not over yet.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Rebel Girl
Gary Smith/Jim Peterik)
Published by WB Music Corp./Easy Action Music - ASCAP/Ensign Music Corporation/Fittest Music/Saber Tooth Music - BMI
Out on the edge of night
In any city you can name
There rides the rebel girl
The wild one no-one dared to tame
And the light in her eyes is a fire
Have you seen her
The rebel girl in action in the city
At night you hear her call
Oooh rebel girl
Don't try to take her in
She says she runs her life alone
She wants you to believe
A rebel's heart is made of stone
And the light in her eyes is desire
Have you seen her
The rebel girl in action in the city
At night you hear her call
Oooh rebel girl so lonely and so pretty
Bringing out the rebel in us all
Oooh girl
It's a lonely world, for a rebel girl
So far from home, she's all alone
In her rebel world
Oh, have you seen her
The rebel girl in action in the city
At night you hear her call
Oooh the rebel girl so lonely and so pretty
Bringing out the rebel in us all
Oooh girl
She's just a rebel girl (have you seen her)
She's just a rebel girl (have you seen her)
She's just a rebel girl (have you seen her)
She's just a rebel girl (have you seen her)
She's just a rebel girl (have you seen her
song performed by by Survivor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bryan
I am blind and mute to this world but,
I do write thaz the world may also learn;
For Bryan is my name and,
I desire mercy and not sacrifice.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Interactive Poetry
when i wake up this morning
sleep is still sleeping
and i slip out of the blanket
not to disturb sleep which
is still soundly snoring
last night we did not pretend
that we were two dead people
sleep was tightly curled upon itself
its arms were not around me
and i could not remember anymore
exactly
whatever happened
to me
or us
if there ever be
this morning
sleep is dead
and i survive
to meet another face of death
in the kitchen
and also in the rest room
and also outside the house
into the road and in the office
where i am working
there are so many faces of death
in my own world
and i am not the loyal subject of sleep
which is death's younger sister
neither am i a friend of death
nor its foe
for out of this everyday encounter
death becomes nothing
but another furniture in the hall
another rock in the garden
part of the numerous leaves in the air
one of those many ' its'
that does not
really disturb me anymore
tonight i will sleep with sleep again
(it is dead and unburied)
i do not name sleep for you
since i too does not know about its true details
or identity
its name its age
when it was born
though i know exactly when it really died
as i have already told you
and what totally is it exactly
the whole truth about its snores and sleep walks and talks
its secrets inside those thick blankets
for in truth in this journey
we sleep with sleep
most of the time
(do i hear ninety percent approving?)
we do not know much of it anyway
or frankly
much less
perhaps
at any rate
(and this may have bored you
to an ending that
bears no significance to your present work)
how can we be interested with such an ordinary matter
that occurs
every minute of the hour?
and what is it that is really worth
writing and
understanding in this world
that does not listen?
(do i hear 95% of you screaming?)
poem by Sebastian Soberania
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You know, a football coach is nothing more than a teacher. You teach them the same subject, and you have a group of new guys every year.
quote by Darrell Royal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im A Rebel
They say I wont make it to the top of the hill
Wont take the fruit of a tree
And evrybody says Im out for the kill
Theyre all laughing at me
Theyre all laughing at me
Im a rebel - rebel - dont you just know it
Im a rebel - rebel
And theyre all laughing at me
They say Im a danger to the public and all
I only wish they would see
Im just a product of a screwed up world - but theyre all
Theyre all laughing at me
But theyre all laughing at me
Im a rebel - rebel - dont you just know it
Im a rebel - rebel - dont you just know it
Im a rebel - rebel
But theyre all laughing at me
Never ever wash my old blue jeans
And brush the smile off my face
But still Im a member of the
Human race - human race - human race - human race
Im a rebel - rebel - dont you just know it
Im a rebel - rebel - dont you just know it
Im a rebel - rebel - dont you just know it
Im a rebel - rebel
And theyre all laughing at me
Im a rebel
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Teach The Gifted Children
Teach the gifted children
Teach them to have mercy
Teach them about sunsets
Teach them about moonrise
Teach them about anger
The sin that comes with dawning
Teach them about flowers
And the beauty of forgetfulness
Then take me to the river (take me to the river)
And put me in the water (and put me in the water)
Bless them and forgive them (take me to the river)
Father cause they just dont know (take me to the river)
All the gifted children
Teach the gifted children
The way of men and animals
Teach them about cities
The history of the mysteries
Their vice and their virtues
About branches that blow in the wind
On the wages of their sins
Teach them of forgiveness
Teach them about mercy
Teach them about music
And the cool and cleansing waters
What do they say, take me to the river (take me to the river)
Take me to the river (take me to the river)
Put me in the water (take me to the river)
And teach the gifted children (take me to the river)
All the gifted children (take me to the river)
(take me to the river)
(take me to the river)
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Star
1 Whatever 'tis, whose beauty here below
2 Attracts thee thus and makes thee stream and flow,
3 And wind and curl, and wink and smile,
4 Shifting thy gate and guile;
5 Though thy close commerce nought at all imbars
6 My present search, for eagles eye not stars,
7 And still the lesser by the best
8 And highest good is blest;
9 Yet, seeing all things that subsist and be,
10 Have their commissions from divinity,
11 And teach us duty, I will see
12 What man may learn from thee.
13 First, I am sure, the subject so respected
14 Is well dispos'd, for bodies once infected,
15 Deprav'd, or dead, can have with thee
16 No hold, nor sympathy.
17 Next, there's in it a restless, pure desire
18 And longing for thy bright and vital fire,
19 Desire that never will be quench'd,
20 Nor can be writh'd, nor wrench'd.
21 These are the magnets which so strongly move
22 And work all night upon thy light and love,
23 As beauteous shapes, we know not why,
24 Command and guide the eye.
25 For where desire, celestial, pure desire
26 Hath taken root, and grows, and doth not tire,
27 There God a commerce states, and sheds
28 His secret on their heads.
29 This is the heart he craves, and who so will
30 But give it him, and grudge not, he shall feel
31 That God is true, as herbs unseen
32 Put on their youth and green.
poem by Henry Vaughan
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Human Calibre
The calibre of a human exceeds all acts,
They subjugate me after the knowledge,
Their ambulances surpass us in wisdom,
We create the learning to excesses.
Let the mountain of pride be our subject,
Open the food-doors and the drinking hours
Maybe the wisdom of indoor activity
Shall express an inner desire?
poem by Naveed Akram
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OTHER WORLD...by Talile Ali
TIMINGS EVERYTHING
WHAT A MESS
I DON'T THINK
YOU KNOW I GUESS
WERE YOU TOO DRUNK
WERE YOU AWARE
OR JUST SO WELL LUBED
YOU DIDN'T CARE
WORDS WERE SPOKEN
TRUTHS WERE SHARED
SEEMED IF EVERYTHING
END UP SQUARED
ABOUT HOW YOU'VE ALWAYS KNEW YOU LOVED ME
AND HOW YOU THOUGHT WE COULD NEVER BE
SO YOU SETTLED FOR WHAT YOU THOUGHT COULD BE
A LIFE OF ABUSE AND NOT HAVING ME
BUT THE NEXT DAY
IT WAS A BLUR
YOU EVEN ASKED ME
WAS I THERE FOR SURE?
THAT'S WHEN I KNEW
BLACK OUTS WERE YOUR CURE
YOU'VE BEEN THRU A LOT
OF HELLISH EVENTS
I WISH I WAS THERE
TO MAYBE PREVENT
SEVERAL OF THOSE OCCASSION
I KNOW I'D BE DEAD
BUT THERE'D BE SOME DEAD BODIES
WITH MANY CRUSHED HEADS
FOR WHAT THEY DID TO YOU
OH THEY'D WISH THEY WERE DEAD
MY HEART IS ALL HURT
AND SO IS MY HEAD
WITH WHATS JUST OCCURRED
MY INNOCENTS DEAD
SO OTHER WORLD IS
THIS GAME THAT YOU'RE IN
WE'RE IN IT TOGETHER
THIS LOVE THAT'S YOUR SIN
AND LYING TO ME
THAT'S NOT EVEN WHERE WE BEGIN
poem by Talile Ali
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Books To Be Read
A bottle of books seems to be drunk by men,
Losing is abusing, reading can keep flow;
Where words rescue, we understand simply
Like authentic tastes, the rallies of fortune.
The real boss of books is called the bible
Of the results, on Wednesday our uniform
Is dressed to wages, towards the harbour.
I sail out to the sea of urchins, beauty has met me;
Loathe me when I sink, and stutter my words
Of importance that I achieve, since it cancels me.
I can not read according to wisdom of books,
For my vocabulary rests, loiters and repairs the ills.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Have Mercy
(d covay)
Have mercy, have mercy baby
Please have mercy,have mercy on me
Oh have mercy, please have mercy baby
Have mercy mercy, have mercy on me
Went to see the gypsy, to have my fortune read
She said your babys gonna leave you
Shes got her bags stashed under the bed
Have mercy, have mercy baby
Please have mercy,have mercy on me
If you stay here baby, tell you what Im gonna do
Im gonna work to a job, seven days a week
Bring my money home to you
Have mercy mercy mercy , have mercy baby
Oh have mercy,have mercy on me
Hey baby, hey now
What you tyrin to do
Hey baby, hey now
Please dont say were through
Have mercy mercy, have mercy baby
Oh have mercy,have mercy on me
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Desire
Is this desire
Or a disease?
If I surrender
Will you come for me?
Will you come for me?
Is this your mercy
Or sacrifice?
No absolution
If you come for me.
If you come for me.
So will I suffer
Humility,
Divine forgiveness,
When you come for me?
When you come for me
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ireland Shall Rebel
WHILE tyrants rule the land,
Beneath the Irish skies;
While e’er the iron hand
Upon our people lies;
While sons are driven forth
In other lands to dwell,
Still in the South and North
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!
While fanlike from below,
And pale against the skies,
That light of shame—the glow
Of burning homes—shall rise;
While hot indignant tears
From Irish hearts shall swell:—
Be it a thousand years,
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!
Until the tyrant’s rod
Shall broken be in twain,
And on the dear old sod
Blest freedom treads again;
Or till our masters learn
To rule our country well,
The fires of hate shall burn!—
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!
poem by Henry Lawson
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You come to work because the office is a resource: The office is a place where you can meet with other people, and the office has libraries of books and information on CD-ROM that might help you with your work.
Against the Dispraisers of Poetry
Chaucer is dead; and Gower lies in grave;
The Earl of Surrey long ago is gone;
Sir Philip Sidney's soul the heavens have;
George Gascoigne him before was tombed in stone.
Yet, though their bodies lie full low in ground,
As every thing must die that erst was born,
Their living fame no fortune can confound,
Nor ever shall their labors be forlorn.
And you, that discommend sweet poetry,
(So that the subject of the same be good)
Here may you see your fond simplicity,
Sith kings have favored it, of royal blood.
The King of Scots (now living) is a poet,
As his Lepanto and his Furies show it.
poem by Richard Barnfield
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Eight Easy Steps
How to stay paralyzed by fear of abandonment
How to defer to men in solve-able predicaments
How to control someone to be a carbon copy of you
How to have that not work and have them run away from you
How to keep people at arm's length and never get too close
How to mistrust the ones you supposedly love the most
How to pretend you're fine and don't need help from anyone
How to feel worthless unless you're serving or helping someone
I'll teach you all this in eight easy steps
A course of a lifetime you'll never forget
I'll show you how to in eight easy steps
I'll show you how leadership looks when taught by the best
How to hate women when you're supposed to be a feminist
How to play all pious when you're really a hypocrite
How to hate god when you're a pray-er and a spiritualist
How to sabotage your fantasies by fears of success
I'll teach you all this in eight easy steps
A course of a lifetime you'll never forget
I'll show you how to in eight easy steps
I'll show you how leadership looks when taught by the best
I've been doing research for years
I've been practicing my ass off
I've been training my whole life for this moment I swear to you
Culminating just to be this well-versed leader before you
I'll teach you all this in eight easy steps
A course of a lifetime you'll never forget
I'll show you how to in eight easy steps
I'll show you how leadership looks when taught by the best
How to lie to yourself and thereby to everyone else
How to keep smiling when you're thinking of killing yourself
How to numb a la holic to avoid going within
How to stay stuck in blue by blaming them for everything
I'll teach you all this in eight easy steps
A course of a lifetime you'll never forget
I'll show you how to in eight easy steps
I'll show you how leadership looks when taught by the best
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead In The Wombs
those same children
who died in the waters
that swallowed Atlantis....
those same children,
starving 'neath Africa's sun....
dead from the bombings
in Iraq, Afghanistan, and soon Iran....
their bodies thrown into dumpsters
here in the United States....
dead on the borders,
dead in the oil filled waters,
dead on the cocaine streets,
dead in the prisons...
dead in the colleges,
dead in the unemployment lines....
dead on the picket lines,
dead, handcuffed, and beaten....
dying, and dead, world crazy spinning...
as the 'light of the world'
sputters, and goes out....
dead in the wombs of the
homeless, hopeless, and forgotten...
dead by our hands!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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