For Righteousness' Sake
THE age is dull and mean. Men creep,
Not walk; with blood too pale and tame
To pay the debt they owe to shame;
Buy cheap, sell dear; eat, drink, and sleep
Down-pillowed, deaf to moaning want;
Pay tithes for soul-insurance; keep
Six days to Mammon, one to Cant.
In such a time, give thanks to God,
That somewhat of the holy rage
With which the prophets in their age
On all its decent seemings trod,
Has set your feet upon the lie,
That man and ox and soul and clod
Are market stock to sell and buy!
The hot words from your lips, my own,
To caution trained, might not repeat;
But if some tares among the wheat
Of generous thought and deed were sown,
No common wrong provoked your zeal;
The silken gauntlet that is thrown
In such a quarrel rings like steel.
The brave old strife the fathers saw
For freedom calls for men again
Like those who battled not in vain
For England's Charter, Alfred's law;
And right of speech and trial just
Wage in your name their ancient war
With venal courts and perjured trust.
God's ways seem dark, but, soon or late,
They touch the shining hills of day;
The evil cannot brook delay,
The good can well afford to wait.
Give ermined knaves their hour of crime;
Ye have the future grand and great,
The safe appeal of Truth to Time!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I'd Lie For You
I'd never tell you one lie.
I'd never let you down.
I'd never leave i'd be the one who'd always be around.
Baby give me a chance.
I'd pull the sun down from the sky.
To light your darkest night.
I'd never let one drop of rain fall down into your life.
Put your heart in my hands.
Baby believe me, i could never do you wrong.
And i would never paint your world blue.
And if sometimes it seems i must lost my mind.
I might be crazy, but i'm crazy about you.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Do anything you asked me to.
I'd even sell my soul for you.
I'd do it all for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
Just take a look in my eyes.
You'd see a love that's blind.
Just take a hold of my hand.
I'll take you to paradise.
Ain't a star that's too far.
Every wish will be a wish.
That i will make come true.
And if you want the moon.
I swear i'll bring it down to you.
Let me into your heart.
Believe me baby.
Got your name carved on my soul.
'cause your the only one that i'll give it too.
Go let'em say that i'm fool to act this way.
'cause if i'm crazy, i'm just crazy 'bout you.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Do anything you asked me to.
I'd even sell my soul for you.
I'd do it all for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Do anything you asked me to.
I'd even sell my soul for you.
I'd do it all for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Move mountains if you want me to.
I'd walk across the fire for you.
I'd walk across the wild for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
And you will never see a day.
I'll ever break your heart.
You'll see the sky fall down.
Before it ever gets that far.
I'll show you heaven.
Every second that your in my arms.
Baby, i'm crazy, but i'm crazy 'bout you.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Do anything you asked me to.
I'd even sell my soul for you.
I'd do it all for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Do anything you asked me to.
I'd even sell my soul for you.
I'd do it all for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Move mountains if you want me to.
I'd walk across the fire for you.
I'd walk across the wild for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Do anything you asked me to.
I'd even sell my soul for you.
I'd do it all for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Do anything you asked me to.
I'd even sell my soul for you.
I'd do it all for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Move mountains if you want me to.
I'd walk across the fire for you.
I'd walk across the wild for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'd Lie For You And That's The Truth
I'd never tell you one lie, I'd never let you down
I'd never leave, I'd be the one who'd always be around
Baby give me a chance
I'd pull the sun down from the sky to light your darkest night
I wouldn't let one drop of rain fall down into your life
Put your heart in my hands
Baby believe me I could never do you wrong
And I would never paint your world blue
And if sometimes it seems I must have lost my mind
I might be crazy, but I'm crazy about you
I'd lie for you and that's the truth
Do anything you asked me to
I'd even sell my soul for you
I'd do it all for you
If you'd just believe in me
Just take a look in my eyes, you'll see a love that's blind
Just take a hold of my hand, I'll take you to paradise
Ain't a star that's too far
Your every wish will be a wish that I will make come true
And if you want the moon I swear I'll bring it down for you
Let me into your heart
Believe me baby, got your name carved on my soul
'Cause you're the only one that I'll give it too
Go let'em say that I'm a fool to act this way
'Cause if I'm crazy, then I'm crazy 'bout you
I'd lie for you and that's the truth
Do anything you asked me too
I'd even sell my soul for you
I'd do it all for you
If you'd just believe in me
I'd lie for you and that's the truth
Move mountains if you want me to
I'd walk across the fire for you
I'd walk on the wild for you
If you'd just believe in me
And you will never see a day I'll ever break your heart
You'll see the sky fall down before it ever gets that far
I'll show you heaven every second that you're in my arms
Baby I'm crazy, but I'm crazy 'bout you
I'd lie for you and that's the truth
Do anything you asked me too
I'd even sell my soul for you
I'd do it all for you
If you'd just believe in me
I'd lie for you and that's the truth
Move mountains if you want me to
I'd walk across the fire for you
I'd walk on the wild for you
If you'd just believe in me
I'd lie for you and that's the truth
Do anything you asked me too
I'd even sell my soul for you
I'd do it all for you
If you'd just believe in me
I'd lie for you and that's the truth
Move mountains if you want me to
I'd walk across the fire for you
I'd walk on the wild for you
If you'd just believe in me
I'd lie for you and that's the truth
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Channing
Not vainly did old poets tell,
Nor vainly did old genius paint
God's great and crowning miracle,
The hero and the saint!
For even in a faithless day
Can we our sainted ones discern;
And feel, while with them on the way,
Our hearts within us burn.
And thus the common tongue and pen
Which, world-wide, echo Channing's fame,
As one of Heaven's anointed men,
Have sanctified his name.
In vain shall Rome her portals bar,
And shut from him her saintly prize,
Whom, in the world's great calendar,
All men shall canonize.
By Narragansett's sunny bay,
Beneath his green embowering wood,
To me it seems but yesterday
Since at his side I stood.
The slopes lay green with summer rains,
The western wind blew fresh and free,
And glimmered down the orchard lanes
The white surf of the sea.
With us was one, who, calm and true,
Life's highest purpose understood,
And, like his blessed Master, knew
The joy of doing good.
Unlearned, unknown to lettered fame,
Yet on the lips of England's poor
And toiling millions dwelt his name,
With blessings evermore.
Unknown to power or place, yet where
The sun looks o'er the Carib sea,
It blended with the freeman's prayer
And song of jubilee.
He told of England's sin and wrong,
The ills her suffering children know,
The squalor of the city's throng,
The green field's want and woe.
O'er Channing's face the tenderness
Of sympathetic sorrow stole,
Like a still shadow, passionless,
The sorrow of the soul.
But when the generous Briton told
How hearts were answering to his own,
And Freedom's rising murmur rolled
Up to the dull-eared throne,
I saw, methought, a glad surprise
Thrill through that frail and pain-worn frame,
And, kindling in those deep, calm eyes,
A still and earnest flame.
His few, brief words were such as move
The human heart,--the Faith-sown seeds
Which ripen in the soil of love
To high heroic deeds.
No bars of sect or clime were felt,
The Babel strife of tongues had ceased,
And at one common altar knelt
The Quaker and the priest.
And not in vain: with strength renewed,
And zeal refreshed, and hope less dim,
For that brief meeting, each pursued
The path allotted him.
How echoes yet each Western hill
And vale with Channing's dying word!
How are the hearts of freemen still
By that great warning stirred.
The stranger treads his native soil,
And pleads, with zeal unfelt before,
The honest right of British toil,
The claim of England's poor.
Before him time-wrought barriers fall,
Old fears subside, old hatreds melt,
And, stretching o'er the sea's blue wall,
The Saxon greets the Celt.
The yeoman on the Scottish lines,
The Sheffield grinder, worn and grim,
The delver in the Cornwall mines,
Look up with hope to him.
Swart smiters of the glowing steel,
Dark feeders of the forge's flame,
Pale watchers at the loom and wheel,
Repeat his honored name.
And thus the influence of that hour
Of converse on Rhode Island's strand
Lives in the calm, resistless power
Which moves our fatherland.
God blesses still the generous thought,
And still the fitting word He speeds
And Truth, at His requiring taught,
He quickens into deeds.
Where is the victory of the grave?
What dust upon the spirit lies?
God keeps the sacred life he gave,--
The prophet never dies!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas Antiphones
I -- In Church
Thou whose birth on earth
Angels sang to men,
While thy stars made mirth,
Saviour, at thy birth,
This day born again;
As this night was bright
With thy cradle-ray,
Very light of light,
Turn the wild world's night
To thy perfect day.
God whose feet made sweet
Those wild ways they trod,
From thy fragrant feet
Staining field and street
With the blood of God;
God whose breast is rest
In the time of strife,
In thy secret breast
Sheltering souls opprest
From the heat of life;
God whose eyes are skies
Love-lit as with spheres
By the lights that rise
To thy watching eyes,
Orbed lights of tears;
God whose heart hath part
In all grief that is,
Was not man's the dart
That went through thine heart,
And the wound not his?
Where the pale souls wail,
Held in bonds of death,
Where all spirits quail,
Came thy Godhead pale
Still from human breath -
Pale from life and strife,
Wan with manhood, came
Forth of mortal life,
Pierced as with a knife,
Scarred as with a flame.
Thou the Word and Lord
In all time and space
Heard, beheld, adored,
With all ages poured
Forth before thy face,
Lord, what worth in earth
Drew thee down to die?
What therein was worth,
Lord, thy death and birth?
What beneath thy sky?
Light above all love
By thy love was lit,
And brought down the Dove
Feathered from above
With the wings of it.
From the height of night,
Was not thine the star
That led forth with might
By no worldly light
Wise men from afar?
Yet the wise men's eyes
Saw thee not more clear
Than they saw thee rise
Who in shepherd's guise
Drew as poor men near.
Yet thy poor endure,
And are with us yet;
Be thy name a sure
Refuge for thy poor
Whom men's eyes forget.
Thou whose ways we praised,
Clear alike and dark,
Keep our works and ways
This and all thy days
Safe inside thine ark.
Who shall keep thy sheep,
Lord, and lose not one?
Who save one shall keep,
Lest the shepherds sleep?
Who beside the Son?
From the grave-deep wave,
From the sword and flame,
Thou, even thou, shalt save
Souls of king and slave
Only by thy Name.
Light not born with morn
Or her fires above,
Jesus virgin-born,
Held of men in scorn,
Turn their scorn to love.
Thou whose face gives grace
As the sun's doth heat,
Let thy sunbright face
Lighten time and space
Here beneath thy feet.
Bid our peace increase,
Thou that madest morn;
Bid oppressions cease;
Bid the night be peace;
Bid the day be born.
II--OUTSIDE CHURCH
We whose days and ways
All the night makes dark,
What day shall we praise
Of these weary days
That our life-drops mark?
We whose mind is blind,
Fed with hope of nought;
Wastes of worn mankind,
Without heart or mind,
Without meat or thought;
We with strife of life
Worn till all life cease,
Want, a whetted knife,
Sharpening strife on strife,
How should we love peace?
Ye whose meat is sweet
And your wine-cup red,
Us beneath your feet
Hunger grinds as wheat,
Grinds to make you bread.
Ye whose night is bright
With soft rest and heat,
Clothed like day with light,
Us the naked night
Slays from street to street.
Hath your God no rod,
That ye tread so light?
Man on us as God,
God as man hath trod,
Trod us down with might.
We that one by one
Bleed from either's rod.
What for us hath done
Man beneath the sun,
What for us hath God?
We whose blood is food
Given your wealth to feed,
From the Christless rood
Red with no God's blood,
But with man's indeed;
How shall we that see
Nightlong overhead
Life, the flowerless tree,
Nailed whereon as we
Were our fathers dead -
We whose ear can hear,
Not whose tongue can name,
Famine, ignorance, fear,
Bleeding tear by tear
Year by year of shame,
Till the dry life die
Out of bloodless breast,
Out of beamless eye,
Out of mouths that cry
Till death feed with rest -
How shall we as ye,
Though ye bid us, pray?
Though ye call, can we
Hear you call, or see,
Though ye show us day?
We whose name is shame,
We whose souls walk bare,
Shall we call the same
God as ye by name,
Teach our lips your prayer?
God, forgive and give,
For His sake who died?
Nay, for ours who live,
How shall we forgive
Thee, then, on our side?
We whose right to light
Heaven's high noon denies,
Whom the blind beams smite
That for you shine bright,
And but burn our eyes,
With what dreams of beams
Shall we build up day,
At what sourceless streams
Seek to drink in dreams
Ere they pass away?
In what street shall meet,
At what market-place,
Your feet and our feet,
With one goal to greet,
Having run one race?
What one hope shall ope
For us all as one
One same horoscope,
Where the soul sees hope
That outburns the sun?
At what shrine what wine,
At what board what bread,
Salt as blood or brine,
Shall we share in sign
How we poor were fed?
In what hour what power
Shall we pray for morn,
If your perfect hour,
When all day bears flower,
Not for us is born?
III--BEYOND CHURCH
Ye that weep in sleep,
Souls and bodies bound,
Ye that all night keep
Watch for change, and weep
That no change is found;
Ye that cry and die,
And the world goes on
Without ear or eye,
And the days go by
Till all days are gone;
Man shall do for you,
Men the sons of man,
What no God would do
That they sought unto
While the blind years ran.
Brotherhood of good,
Equal laws and rights,
Freedom, whose sweet food
Feeds the multitude
All their days and nights
With the bread full-fed
Of her body blest
And the soul's wine shed
From her table spread
Where the world is guest,
Mingling me and thee,
When like light of eyes
Flashed through thee and me
Truth shall make us free,
Liberty make wise;
These are they whom day
Follows and gives light
Whence they see to slay
Night, and burn away
All the seed of night.
What of thine and mine,
What of want and wealth,
When one faith is wine
For my heart and thine
And one draught is health?
For no sect elect
Is the soul's wine poured
And her table decked;
Whom should man reject
From man's common board?
Gods refuse and choose,
Grudge and sell and spare;
None shall man refuse,
None of all men lose,
None leave out of care.
No man's might of sight
Knows that hour before;
No man's hand hath might
To put back that light
For one hour the more.
Not though all men call,
Kneeling with void hands,
Shall they see light fall
Till it come for all
Tribes of men and lands.
No desire brings fire
Down from heaven by prayer,
Though man's vain desire
Hang faith's wind-struck lyre
Out in tuneless air.
One hath breath and saith
What the tune shall be -
Time, who puts his breath
Into life and death,
Into earth and sea.
To and fro years flow,
Fill their tides and ebb,
As his fingers go
Weaving to and fro
One unfinished web.
All the range of change
Hath its bounds therein,
All the lives that range
All the byways strange
Named of death or sin.
Star from far to star
Speaks, and white moons wake,
Watchful from afar
What the night's ways are
For the morning's sake.
Many names and flames
Pass and flash and fall,
Night-begotten names,
And the night reclaims,
As she bare them, all.
But the sun is one,
And the sun's name Right;
And when light is none
Saving of the sun,
All men shall have light.
All shall see and be
Parcel of the morn;
Ay, though blind were we,
None shall choose but see
When that day is born.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spirit Of Freedom
(realising the new world)
I know instinctively
When something is right
With no one there to save me
You came into my life
The words you whispered
Still echo in my mind
Forget about tomorrow
Forget about time
So good to be alive and touch
The spirit of freedom - in your soul
So good to breathe the air and
Feel that life is worth living
Theres no time to waste in this life
Theres no time at all
So good to see the truth and touch
The spirit of freedom
I never thought that
I could ever feel this way
To see the warmest sunlight
On a cold and rainy day
Dawn wakes the silence
And I know that I cant wait
To hear the words
I wanna say again and again
So good to be alive and touch
The spirit of freedom - in your soul
So good to breathe the air and
Feel that life is worth living
Theres no time to waste in this life
Theres no time at all
Theres no time to waste in this life
Theres no time at all
So good to be alive and touch
The spirit of freedom - in your soul
So good to breathe the air and
Feel that life is worth living
Theres no time to waste in this life
Theres no time at all
So good to be alive and touch
The spirit of freedom - in your soul
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Will Wait
There was a time
When all I thought that I wanted
Was someone to touch me
Like I thought everyone was touched
What did I know, what was I thinking
What did I know, what was I thinking
I remember
There was someone that I wanted
Now shes a face at the reunion of 66
What did she know, what was she thinking
And did she know that I convinced myself
I couldnt survive
Sometimes you have to wait
Youre pushing but that stone wont move
And you hesitate to give yourself away
There was a time
When all I thought that I needed
Was someone to tell me
I was making the perfect move
What did I know, what was I thinking
What did I know, what was I thinking
All I wanted was a holy exemption
I had a license to tell everyone
Where its at
What did they know, what were they thinking
And did they know that I would only hear
The things I desired
So I would wait
Im pushing but that stone wont move
And I hesitate to give myself away
And there was a time
When all I thought that I wanted
Was to live in a world
Where everyone knew what love is for
What do I know, what am I thinking
Nobody knows that the hour is getting late
So I will wait for it forever
I will wait for it
Though I know the hour is getting late
I will wait for it forever
I will wait for it
Though I know the hour is getting late
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sentence Of John L. Brown
Ho! thou who seekest late and long
A License from the Holy Book
For brutal lust and fiendish wrong,
Man of the Pulpit, look!
Lift up those cold and atheist eyes,
This ripe fruit of thy teaching see;
And tell us how to heaven will rise
The incense of this sacrifice —
This blossom of the gallows tree!
Search out for slavery's hour of need
Some fitting text of sacred writ;
Give heaven the credit of deed
Which shames the nether pit.
Kneel, smooth blasphemer, unto Him
Whose truth is on thy lips a lie;
Ask that His bright winged cherubim
May bend around that scaffold grim
To guard and bless and sanctify.
O champion of the people's cause!
Suspend thy loud and vain rebuke
Of foreign wrong and Old World's laws,
Man of the Senate, look!
Was this the promise of the free,
The great hope of our early time,
That slavery's poison vine should be
Upborne by Freedom's prayer-nursed tree
O'erclustered with such fruits of crime?
Send out the summons East and West,
And South and North, let all be there
Where he who pitied the oppressed
Swings out in sun and air.
Let not a Democratic hand
The grisly hangman's task refuse;
There let each loyal patriot stand,
Awaiting slavery's command,
To twist the rope and draw the noose!
But vain is irony — unmeet
Its cold rebuke for deeds which start
In fiery and indignant beat
The pulses of the heart.
Leave studied wit and guarded phrase
For those who think but do not feel;
Let men speak out in words which raise
Where'er they fall, an answering blaze
Like flints which strike the fire from steel.
Still let a mousing priesthood ply
Their garbled text and gloss of sin,
And make the lettered scroll deny
Its living soul within:
Still let the place-fed, titled knave
Plead robbery's right with purchased lips,
And tell us that our fathers gave
For Freedom's pedestal, a slave,
The frieze and moulding, chains and whips!
But ye who own that Higher Law
Whose tablets in the heart are set,
Speak out in words of power and awe
That God is living yet!
Breathe forth once more those tones sublime
Which thrilled the burdened prophet's lyre,
And in a dark and evil time
Smote down on Israel's fast of crime
And gift of blood, a rain of fire!
Oh, not for us the graceful lay
To whose soft measures lightly move
The footsteps of the faun and fay,
O'er-locked by mirth and love!
But such a stern and startling strain
As Britain's hunted bards flung down
From Snowden to the conquered plain,
Where harshly clanked the Saxon chain,
On trampled field and smoking town.
By Liberty's dishonored name,
By man's lost hope and failing trust,
By words and deeds which bow with shame
Our foreheads to the dust,
By the exulting strangers' sneer,
Borne to us from the Old World's thrones,
And by their victims' grief who hear,
In sunless mines and dungeons drear,
How Freedom's land her faith disowns!
Speak out in acts. The time for words
Has passed, and deeds suffice alone;
In vain against the clang of swords
The wailing pipe is blown!
Act, act in God's name, while ye may!
Smite from the church her leprous limb!
Throw open to the light of day.
The bondman's cell, and break away
The chains the state has bound on him!
Ho! every true and living soul,
To Freedom's perilled altar bear
The Freeman's and the Christian's whole
Tongue, pen, and vote, and prayer!
One last, great battle for the right —
One short, sharp struggle to be free!
To do is to succeed — our fight
Is waged in Heaven's approving sight;
The smile of God is Victory.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To My Friend On The Death Of His Sister
Thine is a grief, the depth of which another
May never know;
Yet, o'er the waters, O my stricken brother!
To thee I go.
I lean my heart unto thee, sadly folding
Thy hand in mine;
With even the weakness of my soul upholding
The strength of thine.
I never knew, like thee, the dear departed;
I stood not by
When, in calm trust, the pure and tranquil-hearted
Lay down to die.
And on thy ears my words of weak condoling
Must vainly fall
The funeral bell which in thy heart is tolling,
Sounds over all!
I will not mock thee with the poor world's common
And heartless phrase,
Nor wrong the memory of a sainted woman
With idle praise.
With silence only as their benediction,
God's angels come
Where, in the shadow of a great affliction,
The soul sits dumb!
Yet, would I say what thy own heart approveth
Our Father's will,
Calling to Him the dear one whom He loveth,
Is mercy still.
Not upon thee or thine the solemn angel
Hath evil wrought
Her funeral anthem is a glad evangel,--
The good die not!
God calls our loved ones, but we lose not wholly
What He hath given;
They live on earth, in thought and deed, as truly
As in His heaven.
And she is with thee; in thy path of trial
She walketh yet;
Still with the baptism of thy self-denial
Her locks are wet.
Up, then, my brother! Lo, the fields of harvest
Lie white in view
She lives and loves thee, and the God thou servest
To both is true.
Thrust in thy sickle! England's toilworn peasants
Thy call abide;
And she thou mourn'st, a pure and holy presence,
Shall glean beside!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Total Control
(m. davis, j. jourard)
Producer: carter
Album: we are the world (usa for africa)(85), the collected recordings (94)
Looking counter clockwise
Knowing what could happen
Any moment maybe you
Maybe even you
Steadfast collapse
Always certain any moment
Maybe you maybe you
Maybe even you
Recline complete dreams too sweet
I cant do it not with you
Not even with you
Maybe never with you
And Id sell my soul for total control
Yeah Id sell my soul for total control
Street wet tonight, lovers touch
Its pure delight
Always certain any moment
Maybe even you
Stay in bed stained sheets
My head hurts I repeat
Maybe you maybe you
Maybe even you
And Id sell my soul for total control
Yeah Id sell my soul for total control
Id sell my soul for total control
Over you, over you
Total control over you
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You're Not My God
It's just a piece of paper, it says, "In God We Trust"
A little short felt good
But a lot was not enough
And everybody loved me when I was on a roll
And I thought I had everything
When I held the gold
But you're not my god
And you're not my friend
You're not the one that I will walk with in the end
You're not the truth
You're a temporary shot
You ruin people's lives and you don't give a second thought
You're not my god
Little white lines on a mirror
Cut neatly in a roll
Medicine that kept me from lookin' in my soul
I thought you were the answer
To all of my despair
And you almost had me six feet down
But I'm still breathin' air
'Cause you're not my god
And you're not my friend
You're not the one that I will walk with in the end
You're not the truth
You're a temporary shot
You ruin people's lives and you don't give a second thought
You're not my god
From the cradle to the grave
Temptations all around
But no matter how good the fix
It's gonna take you down
Now some call it a weakness
Some call it a sin
But it's all the same behind each game
I see your evil grin
But you're not my god
And you're not my friend
You're not the one that I will walk with in the end
You're not the truth
You're a temporary shot
You ruin people's lives and you don't give a second thought
Whoa, you're not my god
And you're not my friend
You're not the one that I will walk with in the end
You're not the truth
You're a temporary shot
You ruin people's lives and you don't give a second thought
You're not my god
You're not my god
Oh oh oh you're not my god
You're not my god
Mmmmm not my god
Not my god
You're not, you're not, you're not my god
No you're not
song performed by by Keith Urban
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Do You Sleep
I place my head between my hands
As once again I softly weep
I think to myself, as there is no one else,
Please tell me; How do you sleep.
Do you not think of the things you have done
Or the lies and untruths that you have said
It pains my mind, probably till the end of time
Until the time that we both are dead.
You tell your lies as they are the truth
So you can cover up your ways and sin
Do you believe your lies, as the truth you deny
Thinking your innocent in front of God and men
As I sit alone in my chair
Thinking of the secrets you did keep
With your picture in hand, I cant understand
Then I say to you; how do you sleep.
I trusted you with all that I know
And I gave you all that I had to give
You were my life, and you were my wife
And i’d give you my soul for you to live.
But then your past it caught up with you
A time that I knew nothing about
When you were wild, like a crazy child
Who got there way, as it ended out.
As I walk through out the house
As for answers I still try to seek
I walked through our home, now I am alone,
Please tell me; how do you sleep.
As I look back at the things you have done
Remembering the vows that you had broke
And In my brain, now there is only pain
With all the lies you've done and spoke.
I find my bible and it I begin to read
Someday the devil will have your soul to reap
Until that time, your words are a crime,
And please tell me; how do you sleep.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Summons
MEN of the North-land! where's the manly spirit
Of the true-hearted and the unshackled gone?
Sons of old freemen, do we but inherit
Their names alone?
Is the old Pilgrim spirit quenched within us,
Stoops the strong manhood of our souls so low,
That Mammon's lure or Party's wile can win us
To silence now?
Now, when our land to ruin's brink is verging,
In God's name, let us speak while there is time!
Now, when the padlocks for our lips are forging,
Silence is crime!
What! shall we henceforth humbly ask as favors
Rights all our own? In madness shall we barter,
For treacherous peace, the freedom Nature gave us,
God and our charter?
Here shall the statesman forge his human fetters,
Here the false jurist human rights deny,
And in the church, their proud and skilled abettors.
Make truth a lie?
Torture the pages of the hallowed Bible,
To sanction crime, and robbery, and blood?
And, in Oppression's hateful service, libel
Both man and God?
Shall our New England stand erect no longer,
But stoop in chains upon her downward way,
Thicker to gather on her limbs and stronger
Day after day?
Oh no; methinks from all her wild, green mountains;
From valleys where her slumbering fathers lie;
From her blue rivers and her welling fountains,
And clear, cold sky;
From her rough coast, and isles, which hungry Ocean
Gnaws with his surges; from the fisher's skiff,
With white sail swaying to the billows' motion
Round rock and cliff;
From the free fireside of her unbought farmer;
From her free laborer at his loom and wheel;
From the brown smith-shop, where, beneath the hammer,
Rings the red steel;
From each and all, if God hath not forsaken
Our land, and left us to an evil choice,
Loud as the summer thunderbolt shall waken
A People's voice.
Startling and stern! the Northern winds shall bear it
Over Potomac's to St. Mary's wave;
And buried Freedom shall awake to hear it
Within her grave.
Oh, let that voice go forth! The bondman sighing
By Santee's wave, in Mississippi's cane,
Shall feel the hope, within his bosom dying,
Revive again.
Let it go forth! The millions who are gazing
Sadly upon us from afar shall smile,
And unto God devout thanksgiving raising,
Bless us the while.
Oh for your ancient freedom, pure and holy,
For the deliverance of a groaning earth,
For the wronged captive, bleeding, crushed, and lowly,
Let it go forth!
Sons of the best of fathers! will ye falter
With all they left ye perilled and at stake?
Ho! once again on Freedom's holy altar
The fire awake!
Prayer-strengthened for the trial, come together,
Put on the harness for the moral fight,
And, with the blessing of your Heavenly Father,
Maintain the right!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ulster
("Their webs shall not become garments, neither shall they
cover themselves with their works: their works are works
of inquity and the act of violence is in their hands." --
Isaiah lix. 6.)
The dark eleventh hour
Draws on and sees us sold
To every evil power
We fought against of old.
Rebellion, rapine hate
Oppression, wrong and greed
Are loosed to rule our fate,
By England's act and deed.
The Faith in which we stand,
The laws we made and guard,
Our honour, lives, and land
Are given for reward
To Murder done by night,
To Treason taught by day,
To folly, sloth, and spite,
And we are thrust away.
The blood our fathers spilt,
Our love, our toils, our pains,
Are counted us for guilt,
And only bind our chains.
Before an Empire's eyes
The traitor claims his price.
What need of further lies?
We are the sacrifice.
We asked no more than leave
To reap where we had sown,
Through good and ill to cleave
To our own flag and throne.
Now England's shot and steel
Beneath that flag must show
How loyal hearts should kneel
To England's oldest foe.
We know the war prepared
On every peaceful home,
We know the hells declared
For such as serve not Rome --
The terror, threats, and dread
In market, hearth, and field --
We know, when all is said,
We perish if we yield.
Believe, we dare not boast,
Believe, we do not fear --
We stand to pay the cost
In all that men hold dear.
What answer from the North?
One Law, one Land, one Throne.
If England drive us forth
We shall not fall alone!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Fatherland
THE BRAVE old land of deed and song,
Of gentle hearts and spirits strong,
Of queenly maids and heroes grand,
Of equal laws,—our Fatherland!
Though born beneath a brighter sun,
Shall we forget the marvels done,
By soul outspoken, blood outpoured,
By bard and patriot, song and sword?
Forget how firm and true our sires,
Still lighted by their battle-fires,
’Gainst kingly power and kingly crime,
Long struggled in the darkened time?
How in a rolling sea they stood,
Where every wave was freemen’s blood,—
Shall we forget the time of strife,
When freedom’s only price was life?
Shall Cromwell’s memory, Milton’s lyre,
Not kindle ’mong us souls of fire,
Not raise in us a spirit strong—
High scorn of shams, quick hate of wrong?
Shall we not learn, Australians born!
To smile on tinselled power our scorn,—
At least, a freeman’s pride to try,
When tinselled power would bend or buy?
The brave old land of deed and song,
We ne’er will do her memories wrong!
For freedom here we’ll firmly stand,
As stood our sires for Fatherland!
poem by Sir Henry Parkes
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Ritner
THANK God for the token! one lip is still free,
One spirit untrammelled, unbending one knee!
Like the oak of the mountain, deep-rooted and firm,
Erect, when the multitude bends to the storm;
When traitors to Freedom, and Honor, and God,
Are bowed at an Idol polluted with blood;
When the recreant North has forgotten her trust,
And the lip of her honor is low in the dust, —
Thank God, that one arm from the shackle has broken!
Thank God, that one man as a freeman has spoken!
O'er thy crags, Alleghany, a blast has been blown!
Down thy tide, Susquehanna, the murmur has gone!
To the land of the South, of the charter and chain,
Of Liberty sweetened with Slavery's pain;
Where the cant of Democracy dwells on the lips
Of the forgers of fetters, and wielders of whips!
Where 'chivalric' honor means really no more
Than scourging of women, and robbing the poor!
Where the Moloch of Slavery sitteth on high,
And the words which he utters, are — Worship, or die!
Right onward, oh, speed it! Wherever the blood
Of the wronged and the guiltless is crying to God;
Wherever a slave in his fetters is pining;
Wherever the lash of the driver is twining;
Wherever from kindred, torn rudely apart,
Comes the sorrowful wail of the broken of heart;
Wherever the shackles of tyranny bind,
In silence and darkness, the God-given mind;
There, God speed it onward! its truth will be felt,
The bonds shall be loosened, the iron shall melt!
And oh, will the land where the free soul of Penn
Still lingers and breathes over mountain and glen;
Will the land where a Benezet's spirit went forth
To the peeled and the meted, and outcast of Earth;
Where the words of the Charter of Liberty first
From the soul of the sage and the patriot burst;
Where first for the wronged and the weak of their kind,
The Christian and statesman their efforts combined;
Will that land of the free and the good wear a chain?
Will the call to the rescue of Freedom be vain?
No, Ritner! her 'Friends' at thy warning shall stand
Erect for the truth, like their ancestral band;
Forgetting the feuds and the strife of past time,
Counting coldness injustice, and silence a crime;
Turning back from the cavil of creeds, to unite
Once again for the poor in defence of the Right;
Breasting calmly, but firmly, the full tide of Wrong,
Overwhelmed, but not borne on its surges along;
Unappalled by the danger, the shame, and the pain,
And counting each trial for Truth as their gain!
And that bold-hearted yeomanry, honest and true,
Who, haters of fraud, give to labor its due;
Whose fathers, of old, sang in concert with thine,
On the banks of Swetara, the songs of the Rhine, —
The German-born pilgrims, who first dared to brave
The scorn of the proud in the cause of the slave;
Will the sons of such men yield the lords of the South
One brow for the brand, for the padlock one mouth?
They cater to tyrants? They rivet the chain,
Which their fathers smote off, on the negro again?
No, never! one voice, like the sound in the cloud,
When the roar of the storm waxes loud and more loud,
Wherever the foot of the freeman hath pressed
From the Delaware's marge to the Lake of the West,
On the South-going breezes shall deepen and grow
Till the land it sweeps over shall tremble below!
The voice of a people, uprisen, awake,
Pennsylvania's watchword, with Freedom at stake,
Thrilling up from each valley, flung down from each height,
'Our Country and Liberty! God for the Right!'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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De aguado, le fandango varie O
The descendant of the Spanish Friar says:
What I am selling to you is
Water, something to drink
It is more than that
It is also something to sprinkle
Your forehead
And you become holy
Free from sin
You pay for holiness
Now walk on the aisle
Of the church
And how they look at you
A holy man
Because of my holy water
And you will have a halo
And you become radiant
Radioactive perhaps
I repeat I do not just sell water to drink
It would just be ordinary
I am selling to you purity of soul
I am selling to you a future in heaven
Come now, buy water
Sprinkle your souls
Make them holy
Sprinkle them to all
Parts of your body
Meanwhile, there will be no mass
For the coming week
I will be on honeymoon with the woman
Who got the water from the well
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Is Mammon?
Mammon is
riches
personified
as evil
or wealth
regarded
as a God
or an evil
influence.
Observe the worshippers
of wealth on Wall Street
washing hands in rivers
of wealth bled tribute money.
Praises sung to Babylon
the Great in haughty pride.
Great luxury is this palace
of immorality poured funds.
All those poor prostituted
bodies minds worldwide?
International Monetary Fund
dictates crops sown slave
wages sown in third world
newly termed developing...
symbolic of developing
western greed leeched
from veins of illiterate
workers oppressed exploited...
blood diamonds sparkle
on the hands about the necks
of their paid for women
wealth riches considered
an evil corrupt influence
Hollywood is mammonism
not your precious mother?
Mammon
an incarnate evil
dressed in bodily form
dressed as epitome of fashion
while number crunchers
noisily busily munch
devising new ways
to sell workers into early grave
Mammon is
riches
personified
as evil
or wealth
regarded
as a God
or an evil
influence.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Moral Warfare
WHEN Freedom, on her natal day,
Within her war-rocked cradle lay,
An iron race around her stood,
Baptized her infant brow in blood;
And, through the storm which round her swept,
Their constant ward and watching kept.
Then, where our quiet herds repose,
The roar of baleful battle rose,
And brethren of a common tongue
To mortal strife as tigers sprung,
And every gift on Freedom's shrine
Was man for beast, and blood for wine!
Our fathers to their graves have gone;
Their strife is past, their triumph won;
But sterner trials wait the race
Which rises in their honored place;
A moral warfare with the crime
And folly of an evil time.
So let it be. In God's own might
We gird us for the coming fight,
And, strong in Him whose cause is ours
In conflict with unholy powers,
We grasp the weapons He has given, —
The Light, and Truth, and Love of Heaven.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Eating Bamboo Shoots
My new province is a land of bamboo-groves:
Their shoots in spring fill the valleys and hills.
The mountain woodman cuts an armful of them
And brings them down to sell at the early market.
Things are cheap in proportion as they are common;
For two farthings, I buy a whole bundle.
I put the shoots in a great earthen pot
And heat them up along with boiling rice.
The purple nodules broken – like an old brocade;
The white skin opened – like new pearls.
Now every day I eat them recklessly;
For a long time I have not touched meat.
All the time I was living at Lo-yang
They could not give me enough to suit my taste,
Now I can have as many shoots as I please;
For each breath of the south-wind makes a new bamboo
Over the Hills and Far Away
Where forlorn sunsets flare and fade
On desolate sea and lonely sand,
Out of the silence and the shade
What is the voice of strange command
Calling you still, as friend calls friend
With love that cannot brook delay,
To rise and follow the ways that wend
Over the hills and far away?
Hark in the city, street on street
A roaring reach of death and life,
Of vortices that clash and fleet
And ruin in appointed strife,
Hark to it calling, calling clear,
Calling until you cannot stay
From dearer things than your own most dear
Over the hills and far away.
Out of the sound of the ebb-and-flow,
Out of the sight of lamp and star,
It calls you where the good winds blow,
And the unchanging meadows are;
From faded hopes and hopes agleam,
It calls you, calls you night and day
Beyond the dark into the dream
Over the hills and far away.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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