The Ballad Of The Hanged Men
Men my brothers who after us live,
have your hearts against us not hardened.
For—if of poor us you take pity,
God of you sooner will show mercy.
You see us here, attached.
As for the flesh we too well have fed,
long since it's been devoured or has rotted.
And we the bones are becoming ash and dust.
Of our pain let nobody laugh,
but pray God
would us all absolve.
If you my brothers I call, do not
scoff at us in disdain, though killed
we were by justice. Yet ss you know
all men are not of good sound sense.
Plead our behalf since we are dead naked
with the Son of Mary the Virgin
that His grace be not for us dried up
preserving us from hell's fulminations.
We're dead after all. Let no soul revile us,
but pray God
would us all absolve.
Rain has washed us, laundered us,
and the sun has dried us black.
Worse—ravens plucked our eyes hollow
and picked our beards and brows.
Never ever have we sat down, but
this way, and that way, at the wind's
good pleasure ceaselessly we swing 'n swivel,
more nibbled at than sewing thimbles.
Therefore, think not of joining our guild,
but pray God
would us all absolve.
Prince Jesus, who over all has lordship,
care that hell not gain of us dominion.
With it we have no business, fast or loose.
People, here be no mocking,
but pray God
would us all absolve.
poem by François Villon
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The Epitaph In Form Of A Ballad Which Villon Made For Himself And His Comrades, Expecting To Be Hanged Along With Them
Men, brother men, that after us yet live,
Let not your hearts too hard against us be;
For if some pity of us poor men ye give,
The sooner God shall take of you pity.
Here are we five or six strung up, you see,
And here the flesh that all too well we fed
Bit by bit eaten and rotten, rent and shred,
And we the bones grow dust and ash withal;
Let no man laugh at us discomforted,
But pray to God that he forgive us all.
If we call on you, brothers, to forgive,
Ye should not hold our prayer in scorn, though we
Were slain by law; ye know that all alive
Have not wit alway to walk righteously;
Make therefore intercession heartily
With him that of a virgin's womb was bred,
That his grace be not as a dry well-head
For us, nor let hell's thunder on us fall;
We are dead, let no man harry or vex us dead,
But pray to God that he forgive us all.
The rain has washed and laundered us all five,
And the sun dried and blackened; yea, perdie,
Ravens and pies with beaks that rend and rive
Have dug our eyes out, and plucked off for fee
Our beards and eyebrows; never are we free,
Not once, to rest; but here and there still sped,
Drive at its wild will by the wind's change led,
More pecked of birds than fruits on garden-wall;
Men, for God's love, let no gibe here be said,
But pray to God that he forgive us all.
Prince Jesus, that of all art lord and head,
Keep us, that hell be not our bitter bed;
We have nought to do in such a master's hall.
Be not ye therefore of our fellowhead,
But pray to God that he forgive us all.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Epitaph In The Form Of A Ballade
Freres humains qui apres nous vivez,
N'ayez les coeurs contre nous endurcis ...
Men, brother men, that after us yet live,
Let not your hearts too hard against us be;
For if some pity of us poor men ye give,
The sooner God shall take of you pity.
Here are we five or six strung up, you see,
And here the flesh that all too well we fed
Bit by bit eaten and rotten, rent and shred,
And we the bones grow dust and ash withal;
Let no man laugh at us discomforted,
But pray to God that he forgive us all.
If we call on you, brothers, to forgive,
Ye should not hold our prayer in scorn, though we
Were slain by law; ye know that all alive
Have not wit always to walk righteously;
Make therefore intercession heartily
With him that of a virgin's womb was bred,
That his grace be not as a dr-y well-head
For us, nor let hell's thunder on us fall;
We are dead, let no man harry or vex us dead,
But pray to God that he forgive us all.
The rain has washed and laundered us all five,
And the sun dried and blackened; yea, perdie,
Ravens and pies with beaks that rend and rive
Have dug our eyes out, and plucked off for fee
Our beards and eyebrows; never we are free,
Not once, to rest; but here and there still sped,
Driven at its wild will by the wind's change led,
More pecked of birds than fruits on garden-wall;
Men, for God's love, let no gibe here be said,
But pray to God that he forgive us all.
Prince Jesus, that of all art lord and head,
Keep us, that hell be not our bitter bed;
We have nought to do in such a master's hall.
Be not ye therefore of our fellowhead,
But pray to God that he forgive us all.
Algernon Charles Swinburne, trans.
poem by François Villon
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Sometimes I Pray
Sometimes I pray before I sleep;
Sometimes I pray, the lord; my soul to keep,
Sometimes I pray.....
Sometimes I pray in the morning;
Sometimes I pray for those in mourning,
Sometimes I pray.....
Sometimes I pray for rain;
Sometimes I pray for nomore pain,
Sometimes I pray.....
Sometimes I pray before i eat;
Sometimes I pray for good bread and meat,
Sometimes I pray.....
Sometimes I pray, my baby; that you'll stay;
But only sometimes for these things do I pray,
For I talk to my Lord everyday...
poem by Nkululeko Mdudu
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I Just Cant Make It By Myself
(words & music by clara ward)
I need jesus to guide me every day
As Im travellin along this rough and narrow way
Though afflictions fill my soul
Im determined to make the goal
Ive gotta have jesus cause I just cant make it by myself
Every day I pray (pray) pray (pray)
Pray (pray) pray (pray)
I pray (pray) pray (pray
Pray pray pray
Pray and ask the lord jesus
Dont leave me by myself
Every mornin through the years I pray
You know Ive got to have jesus
I just cant it by myself
By myself
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My period had come for Prayer
564
My period had come for Prayer—
No other Art—would do—
My Tactics missed a rudiment—
Creator—Was it you?
God grows above—so those who pray
Horizons—must ascend—
And so I stepped upon the North
To see this Curious Friend—
His House was not—no sign had He—
By Chimney—nor by Door
Could I infer his Residence—
Vast Prairies of Air
Unbroken by a Settler—
Were all that I could see—
Infinitude—Had'st Thou no Face
That I might look on Thee?
The Silence condescended—
Creation stopped—for Me—
But awed beyond my errand—
I worshipped—did not "pray"—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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We pray—to Heaven
489
We pray—to Heaven—
We prate—of Heaven—
Relate—when Neighbors die—
At what o'clock to heaven—they fled—
Who saw them—Wherefore fly?
Is Heaven a Place—a Sky—a Tree?
Location's narrow way is for Ourselves—
Unto the Dead
There's no Geography—
But State—Endowal—Focus—
Where&m dash;Omnipresence—fly?
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Day undressed—Herself
716
The Day undressed—Herself—
Her Garter—was of Gold—
Her Petticoat—of Purple plain—
Her Dimities—as old
Exactly—as the World—
And yet the newest Star—
Enrolled upon the Hemisphere
Be wrinkled—much as Her—
Too near to God—to pray—
Too near to Heaven—to fear—
The Lady of the Occident
Retired without a care—
Her Candle so expire
The flickering be seen
On Ball of Mast in Bosporus—
And Dome—and Window Pane—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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See The Sky Again
Whispered from my heart and soul to my unwilling eyes
Lift my vision from the ground lift it to the sky
Skies they used to be so ugly rain that stings my face
Opens up their glory just earth and sky and space
And your passionate embraces absolve me of my sin
Your life lifts me up so I can see
See the sky again
And Ive lived through all the flash-fire set off like lightening spark
Yes they burn so brightly and oh they burn so hot
And these fantasies of all our love tearing at the ground
Wrapped up in the vortex of sweat and sex and sound
And your passionate embraces absolve me of my sin
Your life lifts me up so I can see, see the sky again
Hide me
From the love Im too scared to send
Hide me
til I see the sky again
And your passionate embraces absolve me of my sin
Your life lifts me up so I can see
See the sky again
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Do I Pray?
Pray, pray
How do I pray?
Usually at the
end of my day.
Pray, pray
For what do I pray?
I pray for peace
in everyone's day.
Pray, pray
To whom do I pray?
To my soul giver
that's not far away.
Pray, pray
Why do I pray?
For if there's a heaven
maybe someday
The praying was worth it
and then I'll know
where those that don't pray
will have to stay.
And pray and pray
and pray all day.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Call To The Grave
The rain washes away and purifies
It washed down the flesh we catered for
And we who sell so much and wanted more
The crows will come and peck away our eyes
Perhaps [...]
It drove us to these tides from which we swing
Like [...] starlings on the wing
Like horses droppings on a country road
Oh brothers learn from us, so it begins
And pray to God that hell forgive my sins
The girls who flaunt their breasts as bait there
To catch some sucker who will love them
The youth so sly, they stand and wait there
To grab their single earnings off them
The crooks, the tarts, the tart protectors
The muggers and the maggots
The psychopath, the [...]
I pray that they forgive my sin
Someone has taken [...] crowbar
And caved their ugly faces in
I only ask to know its over
Pray that they forgive my sin
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do People moulder equally
432
Do People moulder equally,
They bury, in the Grave?
I do believe a Species
As positively live
As I, who testify it
Deny that I—am dead—
And fill my Lungs, for Witness—
From Tanks—above my Head—
I say to you, said Jesus—
That there be standing here—
A Sort, that shall not taste of Death—
If Jesus was sincere—
I need no further Argue—
That statement of the Lord
Is not a controvertible—
He told me, Death was dead—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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I got so I could take his name
293
I got so I could take his name—
Without—Tremendous gain—
That Stop-sensation—on my Soul—
And Thunder—in the Room—
I got so I could walk across
That Angle in the floor,
Where he turned so, and I turned—how—
And all our Sinew tore—
I got so I could stir the Box—
In which his letters grew
Without that forcing, in my breath—
As Staples—driven through—
Could dimly recollect a Grace—
I think, they call it "God"—
Renowned to ease Extremity—
When Formula, had failed—
And shape my Hands—
Petition's way,
Tho' ignorant of a word
That Ordination—utters—
My Business, with the Cloud,
If any Power behind it, be,
Not subject to Despair—
It care, in some remoter way,
For so minute affair
As Misery—
Itself, too vast, for interrupting—more—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Dominion Day
In my darkness
I hear jesus crying.
In my darkness
I see children savage and blind.
In my darkness
I see dead men kneel before the cross.
In my darkness
I hear the voice of evil.
Disciples, dark angels,
This is dominion day
My demons, come to me
This is dominion day
In his darkness
I can feel the storm come.
In his darkness
Holy water burns my soul.
In his darkness
A grave waits for you at heavens gate.
In his darkness
I hear screams that hide the voice of god.
Come children of eden
Pray to me on dominion day.
Pray for your salvation,
Sanctuary on dominion day
My soul, save me.
In his mercy,
He will bring the disease.
In his mercy
He will burn the oceans.
In his mercy
He will tear the sky down.
In his mercy
He will make pain eternal.
Your nightmare is breathing
This is dominion day.
Welcome to your saviour
This is dominion day.
This is my new kingdom.
This is dominion day.
Creation bleeds for me.
This is dominion day.
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Special Prayer to the Blessed Mary Ever Virgin
Hail O Mary, full of grace!
Ev’r virgin with heav’nly gaze!
Mother of Christ and human race!
Bless’d lady with divine face!
Handmaiden of Son of God;
Woman who crushed the Serpent’s head;
Help of dying and those dead;
Favoured-most amongst kindred!
Virgin who bore Christ Jesus;
Have pity and pray for us;
Don our souls with Heaven’s dress;
Free us from all sins, trespass!
Mary with heart immaculate;
Succour to souls until date;
One who changes hell-bound state;
We pray, plead to better our fate!
Queen atop God’s mountain’s peak!
Perpetual aid of those who seek;
Mediatrix, miraculous, meek;
Strengthen minds, bodies, hearts weak!
Sorrowing heart that bears sorrows;
One who makes pleasant morrows;
Comfort of hearts pierced with arrows;
Better our lives and how world goes!
Mary with her Lamb of God;
Mother of the Saviour Lord;
‘Rosaried’ Virgin of Word;
Grant Peace to all souls and world!
Mary assumed into Heaven!
Give us health, relieve our pain;
Change to boon, our every bane;
Help us walk in Heaven’s lane!
poem by John Celes
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Song Of Revolution
Let those who know how to pray, pray
And those who can’t, wish
For we are getting to a stage
Where history will be re written
And all hell let loose.
Though no one ever pray for this
But wishful thinking is never enough.
How could the oppressor of people
Think the people will forever believe
Their propaganda of peace with poverty.
Let it be sang in the nooks and crannies
Of the geographical entity called Nigeria
That the poor will no longer have none it
That never are we going to be deceived again
By their crap of unity and suffering.
There cant be no peace without justice
Justice, my people, that will reach everywhere
Those that put our money away in unlit safe
Shall rot away in unlit prison cells
For offense and punishment must be equal.
So let those who know how to pray, pray
And those who cant, wish
For we cannot because of peace
Remains forever in abject poverty.
..
The Debate Between Villon And His Heart
Who's that I hear?—It's me—Who?—Your heart
Hanging on by the thinnest thread
I lose all my strength, substance, and fluid
When I see you withdrawn this way all alone
Like a whipped cur sulking in the corner
Is it due to your mad hedonism?—
What's it to you?—I have to suffer for it—
Leave me alone—Why?—I'll think about it—
When will you do that?—When I've grown up—
I've nothing more to tell you—I'll survive without it—
What's your idea?—To be a good man—
You're thirty, for a mule that's a lifetime
You call that childhood?—No—Madness
Must have hold of you—By what, the halter?—
You don't know a thing—Yes I do—What?—Flies in milk
One's white, one's black, they're opposites—
That's all?—How can I say it better?
If that doesn't suit you I'll start over—
You're lost—Well I'll go down fighting—
I've nothing more to tell you—I'll survive without it—
I get the heartache, you the injury and pain
If you were just some poor crazy idiot
I'd be able to make excuses for you
You don't even care, all's one to you, foul or fair
Either your head's harder than a rock
Or you actually prefer misery to honor
Now what do you say to that?—
Once I'm dead I'll rise above it—
God, what comfort—What wise eloquence—
I've nothing more to tell you—I'll survive without it—
Why are you miserable?—Because of my miseries
When Saturn packed my satchel I think
He put in these troubles—That's mad
You're his lord and you talk like his slave
Look what Solomon wrote in his book
"A wise man" he says "has authority
Over the planets and their influence"—
I don't believe it, as they made me I'll be—
What are you saying?—Yes that's what I think—
I've nothing more to tell you—I'll survive without it—
Want to live?—God give me the strength—
It's necessary...—What is?—To feel remorse
Lots of reading—What kind?—Read for knowledge
Leave fools alone—I'll take your advice—
Or will you forget?—I've got it fixed in mind—
Now act before things go from bad to worse
I've nothing more to tell you—I'll survive without it.
Trans. Galway Kinnell
poem by François Villon
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The Court is far away
235
The Court is far away—
No Umpire—have I—
My Sovereign is offended—
To gain his grace—I'd die!
I'll seek his royal feet—
I'll say—Remember—King—
Thou shalt—thyself—one day—a Child—
Implore a larger—thing—
That Empire—is of Czars—
As small—they say—as I—
Grant me—that day—the royalty—
To intercede—for Thee—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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To the Mother of God
O Mary, deign to look on me with pity,
A weak and troubled sinner gone astray,
Help me to reach your Son's celestial city
Where His Light shines in endless tireless day.
Pray for me, Tower of Ivory,
Pray for me, House of Gold,
Pray for me, Cause of All Our Joy,
And lead me to joys untold.
I see you, Mary, with your Infant Son,
The God whom all my sins have crucified;
I shudder at the evil I have done,
And know that there is nowhere I can hide.
Pray to your Son for me, Morning Star,
Pray for me, Mystic Rose,
Pray for me, though I have wandered far
From the grace your Son bestows.
Mary, the child you carried in your womb
Is God, and came to expiate our crime;
Your Baby Boy, who overcame the tomb
Will come to judge me at the end of time.
Pray for me, Holy Mother of God,
O Virgin most renowned;
Help us to reach your Son's abode
And as His Saints be crowned.
poem by David Mitchell
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It feels a shame to be Alive
444
It feels a shame to be Alive—
When Men so brave—are dead—
One envies the Distinguished Dust—
Permitted—such a Head—
The Stone—that tells defending Whom
This Spartan put away
What little of Him we—possessed
In Pawn for Liberty—
The price is great—Sublimely paid—
Do we deserve—a Thing—
That lives—like Dollars—must be piled
Before we may obtain?
Are we that wait—sufficient worth—
That such Enormous Pearl
As life—dissolved be—for Us—
In Battle's—horrid Bowl?
It may be—a Renown to live—
I think the Man who die—
Those unsustained—Saviors—
Present Divinity—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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White shall not neutralize the black, nor good compensate bad in man, absolve him so: life's business being just the terrible choice.
quote by Robert Browning
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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