Canto XII from The Heights of Macchu Picchu
Arise to birth with me, my brother.
Give me your hand out of the depths
sown by your sorrows.
You will not return from these stone fastnesses.
You will not emerge from subterranean time.
Your rasping voice will not come back,
nor your pierced eyes rise from their sockets.
Look at me from the depths of the earth,
tiller of fields, weaver, reticent shepherd,
groom of totemic guanacos,
mason high on your treacherous scaffolding,
iceman of Andean tears,
jeweler with crushed fingers,
farmer anxious among his seedlings,
potter wasted among his clays--
bring to the cup of this new life
your ancient buried sorrows.
Show me your blood and your furrow;
say to me: here I was scourged
because a gem was dull or because the earth
failed to give up in time its tithe of corn or stone.
Point out to me the rock on which you stumbled,
the wood they used to crucify your body.
Strike the old flints
to kindle ancient lamps, light up the whips
glued to your wounds throughout the centuries
and light the axes gleaming with your blood.
I come to speak for your dead mouths.
Throughout the earth
let dead lips congregate,
out of the depths spin this long night to me
as if I rode at anchor here with you.
And tell me everything, tell chain by chain,
and link by link, and step by step;
sharpen the knives you kept hidden away,
thrust them into my breast, into my hands,
like a torrent of sunbursts,
an Amazon of buried jaguars,
and leave me cry: hours, days and years,
blind ages, stellar centuries.
And give me silence, give me water, hope.
Give me the struggle, the iron, the volcanoes.
Let bodies cling like magnets to my body.
Come quickly to my veins and to my mouth.
Speak through my speech, and through my blood.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Related quotes
From The Heights Of Maccho Picchu
Rise up to be born with me, brother.
Give me your hand from the deep
Zone seeded by your sorrow.
You won’t return from under the rocks.
You won’t return from your subterranean time.
Your hardened voice won’t return.
Your gouged-out eyes won’t return.
Look at me from the depth of the earth,
laborer, weaver, silent shepherd:
tamer of wild llamas like spirit images:
construction worker on a daring scaffold:
waterer of the tears of the Andes:
jeweler with broken fingers:
farmer trembling as you sow:
potter, poured out into your clay:
bring to the cup of this new life
your old buried sorrows.
Show me your blood and your furrow,
Tell me, “Here I was punished,
Because the jewel didn’t shine or the earth
Didn’t yield grain or stones on time.”
Show me the stone you fell over
And the wood on which they crucified you,
Make a spark from the old flints for me,
For the old lamps to show the whips still stuck
After centuries in the old wounds
And the axes shining with blood.
I come to speak for your dead mouth.
Across the earth come together all
The silent worn-out lips
And from the depth speak to me all this long night
Like I was pinned down there with you.
Tell me all, chain by chain,
Link by link and step by step,
Sharpen the knives which you hid,
Put them in my breast and in my hand,
Like a river of yellow lighting
Like a river of buried jaguars
And let me weep, hours, days, years,
For blind ages, cycles of stars.
Give me silence, water, hope.
Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes.
Stick bodies to me like magnets.
Draw near to my veins and my mouth.
Speak through my words and my blood.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Pensive On Her Dead Gazing, I Heard The Mother Of All
PENSIVE, on her dead gazing, I heard the Mother of All,
Desperate, on the torn bodies, on the forms covering the battle-
fields gazing;
(As the last gun ceased--but the scent of the powder-smoke linger'd;)
As she call'd to her earth with mournful voice while she stalk'd:
Absorb them well, O my earth, she cried--I charge you, lose not my
sons! lose not an atom;
And you streams, absorb them well, taking their dear blood;
And you local spots, and you airs that swim above lightly,
And all you essences of soil and growth--and you, my rivers' depths;
And you, mountain sides--and the woods where my dear children's
blood, trickling, redden'd;
And you trees, down in your roots, to bequeath to all future
trees, 10
My dead absorb--my young men's beautiful bodies absorb--and their
precious, precious, precious blood;
Which holding in trust for me, faithfully back again give me, many a
year hence,
In unseen essence and odor of surface and grass, centuries hence;
In blowing airs from the fields, back again give me my darlings--give
my immortal heroes;
Exhale me them centuries hence--breathe me their breath--let not an
atom be lost;
O years and graves! O air and soil! O my dead, an aroma sweet!
Exhale them perennial, sweet death, years, centuries hence.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Chain Of Fools (feat. Pointer Sisters)
Clint Black & The Pointer Sisters
Chain chain chains (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chains (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools
For four long years
I thought you were my man
But I found out
I'm just a link in your chain.
You got me where you want me
I ain't nothin but your fool
You treated me mean
Oh, you treated me cruel.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain of fools
Every chain
Has got a weak link
I might be weak child
Oh, but I'll give you strength.
OOh. OOh.
You told me to leave you alone
My mother said, come on home
My doctor said, take it easy
But your lovin' is much too strong
I'm added to your.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools.
--- Instrumental ---
One of these mornings
That chain is gonna break
But up until then
I'm goin'a take all I can take, oh yeah.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools, oh yeah...
--- Instrumental with oops till fade ---
song performed by by Clint Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The light
Come bright sun
like a beacon from the sky
give warmth to plants and flowers,
give light to the night that stretches out,
gather drops from the earth
to the pool up high.
Come bright sun
like a sign from above
give light to the depths
of darkness in my soul,
burst into every cell
in my body:
Be the lamp that points the way
to a soul that went astray.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Hope
Life on earth is hard,
It is something we earned,
Every day a body is burned,
What a terrible fate,
Then I saw you,
Your smiling face,
You filled my life with grace,
What a beautiful fate,
So I took a deep breath,
Found the courage to keep going,
This might be my fate,
In your eyes,
In your eyes I saw hope,
In your eyes I saw life,
In your eyes I saw love,
In your eyes I saw the love of life,
I chose to live,
I chose to live for you,
In everything I do,
To always be with you,
Together we will live,
To others we will give,
Hope we will deliver,
With love, no one will suffer,
In your eyes,
In your eyes I see hope,
In your eyes I see life,
For you I'd give it all up,
For you I'd give up life,
Life on earth is hard but not with you,
Your eyes shine with the light of love,
With you I feel the blessings from above,
Your eyes see the depths of my soul,
Shining your light into my life,
I hope your love is my fate,
In your eyes I see love and light,
With you my hope is for life!
28 May 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
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Mentana : First Anniversary
At the time when the stars are grey,
And the gold of the molten moon
Fades, and the twilight is thinned,
And the sun leaps up, and the wind,
A light rose, not of the day,
A stronger light than of noon.
As the light of a face much loved
Was the face of the light that clomb;
As a mother's whitened with woes
Her adorable head that arose;
As the sound of a God that is moved,
Her voice went forth upon Rome.
At her lips it fluttered and failed
Twice, and sobbed into song,
And sank as a flame sinks under;
Then spake, and the speech was thunder,
And the cheek as he heard it paled
Of the wrongdoer grown grey with the wrong.
"Is it time, is it time appointed,
Angel of time, is it near?
For the spent night aches into day
When the kings shall slay not or pray,
And the high-priest, accursed and anointed,
Sickens to deathward with fear.
"For the bones of my slain are stirred,
And the seed of my earth in her womb
Moves as the heart of a bud
Beating with odorous blood
To the tune of the loud first bird
Burns and yearns into bloom.
"I lay my hand on her bosom,
My hand on the heart of my earth,
And I feel as with shiver and sob
The triumphant heart in her throb,
The dead petals dilate into blossom,
The divine blood beat into birth.
"O my earth, are the springs in thee dry?
O sweet, is thy body a tomb?
Nay, springs out of springs derive,
And summers from summers alive,
And the living from them that die;
No tomb is here, but a womb.
"O manifold womb and divine,
Give me fruit of my children, give!
I have given thee my dew for thy root,
Give thou me for my mouth of thy fruit;
Thine are the dead that are mine,
And mine are thy sons that live.
"O goodly children, O strong
Italian spirits, that wear
My glories as garments about you,
Could time or the world misdoubt you,
Behold, in disproof of the wrong,
The field of the grave-pits there.
"And ye that fell upon sleep,
We have you too with us yet.
Fairer than life or than youth
Is this, to die for the truth:
No death can sink you so deep
As their graves whom their brethren forget.
"Were not your pains as my pains?
As my name are your names not divine?
Was not the light in your eyes
Mine, the light of my skies,
And the sweet shed blood of your veins,
O my beautiful martyrs, mine?
"Of mine earth were your dear limbs made,
Of mine air was your sweet life's breath;
At the breasts of my love ye were fed,
O my children, my chosen, my dead,
At my breasts where again ye are laid,
At the old mother's bosom, in death.
"But ye that live, O their brothers,
Be ye to me as they were;
Give me, my children that live,
What these dead grudged not to give,
Who alive were sons of your mother's,
Whose lips drew breath of your air.
"Till darkness by dawn be cloven,
Let youth's self mourn and abstain;
And love's self find not an hour,
And spring's self wear not a flower,
And Lycoris, with hair unenwoven,
Hail back to the banquet in vain.
"So sooner and surer the glory
That is not with us shall be,
And stronger the hands that smite
The heads of the sons of night,
And the sound throughout earth of our story
Give all men heart to be free."
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Mater Dolorosa
Who is this that sits by the way, by the wild wayside,
In a rent stained raiment, the robe of a cast-off bride,
In the dust, in the rainfall sitting, with soiled feet bare,
With the night for a garment upon her, with torn wet hair?
She is fairer of face than the daughters of men, and her eyes,
Worn through with her tears, are deep as the depth of skies.
This is she for whose sake being fallen, for whose abject sake,
Earth groans in the blackness of darkness, and men's hearts break.
This is she for whose love, having seen her, the men that were
Poured life out as water, and shed their souls upon air.
This is she for whose glory their years were counted as foam;
Whose face was a light upon Greece, was a fire upon Rome.
Is it now not surely a vain thing, a foolish and vain,
To sit down by her, mourn to her, serve her, partake in the pain?
She is grey with the dust of time on his manifold ways,
Where her faint feet stumble and falter through year-long days.
Shall she help us at all, O fools, give fruit or give fame,
Who herself is a name despised, a rejected name?
We have not served her for guerdon. If any do so,
That his mouth may be sweet with such honey, we care not to know.
We have drunk from a wine-unsweetened, a perilous cup,
A draught very bitter. The kings of the earth stood up,
And the rulers took counsel together, to smite her and slay;
And the blood of her wounds is given us to drink today.
Can these bones live? or the leaves that are dead leaves bud?
Or the dead blood drawn from her veins be in your veins blood?
Will ye gather up water again that was drawn and shed?
In the blood is the life of the veins, and her veins are dead.
For the lives that are over are over, and past things past;
She had her day, and it is not; was first, and is last.
Is it nothing unto you then, all ye that pass by,
If her breath be left in her lips, if she live now or die?
Behold now, O people, and say if she be not fair,
Whom your fathers followed to find her, with praise and prayer,
And rejoiced, having found her, though roof they had none nor bread;
But ye care not; what is it to you if her day be dead?
It was well with our fathers; their sound was in all men's lands;
There was fire in their hearts, and the hunger of fight in their
hands.
Naked and strong they went forth in her strength like flame,
For her love's and her name's sake of old, her republican name.
But their children, by kings made quiet, by priests made wise,
Love better the heat of their hearths than the light of her eyes.
Are they children of these thy children indeed, who have sold,
O golden goddess, the light of thy face for gold?
Are they sons indeed of the sons of thy dayspring of hope,
Whose lives are in fief of an emperor, whose souls of a Pope?
Hide then thine head, O beloved; thy time is done;
Thy kingdom is broken in heaven, and blind thy sun.
What sleep is upon you, to dream she indeed shall rise,
When the hopes are dead in her heart as the tears in her eyes?
If ye sing of her dead, will she stir? if ye weep for her, weep?
Come away now, leave her; what hath she to do but sleep?
But ye that mourn are alive, and have years to be;
And life is good, and the world is wiser than we.
Yea, wise is the world and mighty, with years to give,
And years to promise; but how long now shall it live?
And foolish and poor is faith, and her ways are bare,
Till she find the way of the sun, and the morning air.
In that hour shall this dead face shine as the face of the sun,
And the soul of man and her soul and the world's be one.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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There is Blood on the Earth
THERE is blood on the face of the earth-
It reeks through the years, and is red:
Where Truth was slaughtered at birth,
And the veins of Liberty bled.
Lo! vain is the hand that tries
To cover the crimson stain:
It spreads like a plague, and cries
Like a soul in writhing pain.
It wasteth the planet's flesh;
It calleth on breasts of stone:
God holdeth His wrath in a leash
Till the hearts of men atone.
Blind, like the creatures of time;
Cursed, like all the race,
They answer: '' The blood and crime
Belong to a sect and place! '
What are these things to Heaven—
Races or places of men?
The world through one Christ was forgiven—
Nor question of races then.
The wrong of to-day shall be rued
In a thousand coming years;
The debt must be paid in blood,
The interest, in tears.
Shall none stand up for right
Whom the evil passes by?
But God had the globe in sight,
And hearkens the weak one's cry.
Wherever a principle dies—
Nay, principles never die!
But wherever a ruler lies,
And a people share the lie;
Where right is crushed by force,
And manhood is stricken dead—
There dwelleth the ancient curse,
And the blood on the earth is red!
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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The Wizard of Clayton Close
He's steeped in the shadows of ivy and stone,
And time is the seed that the Wizard has sown,
Has sown for the magick of weaving the night
In a tapestry taken from burning delight.
Burning delight in the eyes of the mind he has
Stolen, to conjure insight for the blind, for the
Blind are the pebbles that litter his beach, while the
Tides of his mind set the blind out of reach.
The masonry wall is caught deep in the spell that he
Conjured forgotten, in some distant dell,
And if you should peer through the ivy and stone
There's a voice whispers... 'leave me, just leave me alone.
I've wandered with Ishtar, away from your eyes
From your spying and prying, away from your lies,
In the peril and terror that lonely men speak...
Seek not the undying, whatever you seek.'
But drawn to the shadows and drawn to the stone
I could leave him not ever, not leave him alone,
And turning one day to the light and the lace
He uncovered his forehead, uncovered his face.
I froze in the instant to question my mind for
The face spoke eternities, infinite time
And the stars held their place in the lips of the man
And the cheeks and the ears, and the eyes and the hand.
The wall crumbled inward as slowly I fell
Through his eyes to the stars, to the depths of his well,
And knowledge was mine as it never had been,
In my mind, misaligned, in the things that I'd seen.
But knowledge was danger, disaster and death
To the heart that would beat, to the mind, to the breath,
To the cheek of a girl or the smile of a man,
To the whisp' of the wind, to the shift of the sand.
And nothing exists in the nothing of me
But the stars and the sky, and the sand and the sea,
The light that was night and the dark of the day
As I drift in the tides of his vision away.
And look as I might for the eyes of his mind
I believe that the Wizard is totally blind,
That once in the depths of his well and his breath
We're imprisoned in freedom, the freedom from death.
If only the way was as clearly defined
In the world of the deaf and the dumb and the blind,
I'd crawl through the stars to the lids of his eyes
To the breadth of his world and the width of his lies.
For the comfort of woman and warmth of a man
I would give all the shift and the sift of the sand,
And not all the shadows of ivy and stone
Would lure me to walk in the winter alone.
21 May 1975
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Dont Run For Cover
(m&l - kiske)
You hide, wont fight
Avoid the daylight
Give in, wont win
No try to make it right
Why dont you stop crying
Stop your painful dying
Why dont you give your life a sense
One game, one aim
But youre always sleeping
One light so bright
In darkness youre creeping
Why dont you use your head
Step out of your warm bed
And stop being on anxious rat
Run - for your destination
Fly - to the sun
Dont give a damn what the people may say
Its like a chain on your leg
When you always look back
If you dont risk anything one day youll pay
Dont run for cover
Dont cry alone
Make a step on your stairway
One step closer to what you live for
Dont run for cover
Dont throw away
The only chance that you got
To be the fire in a hot life you choose
No pride, no right ?
In your heart is more strength
You know, I know
Your destinys in your hand
Now you have this time
To survive dont be blind
In this world where so many cant see
Try - to catch the key
Make - that you can see
The light of your life your way to go
Its like a chain on your leg
When you always look back
If you dont risk anything one day youll pay
Dont run for cover
Dont cry alone
Make a step on your stairway
One step closer to what you live for
Dont run for cover
Dont throw away
The only chance that you got
To be the fire in a hot life you choose
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Slaughter
Heaven, beg mercy for me! If there is
a God in you, a pathway through
you to this God - which I have not
discovered - then pray for me! For my
heart is dead, no longer is there prayer
on my lips; all strength is gone, and
hope is no more. Until when, how
much longer, until when?
You, executioner! Here's my neck - go
to it, slaughter me! Behead me like a
dog, yours is the almighty arm and the
axe, and the whole earth is my scaffold
- and we, we are the few! My blood is
fair game - strike the skull, and
murder's blood, the blood of nurslings
and old men, will spurt onto your
clothes and will never, never be wiped
off.
And if there is justice - let it show
itself at once! But if justice show itself
after I have been blotted out from
beneath the skies - let its throne be
hurled down forever! Let heaven rot
with eternal evil! And you, the arrogant,
go in this violence of yours, live by
your bloodshed and be cleansed by it.
And cursed be the man who says:
Avenge! No such revenge - revenge for
the blood of a little child - has yet been
devised by Satan. Let the blood pierce
through the abyss! Let the blood seep
down into the depths of darkness, and
eat away there, in the dark, and breach
all the rotting foundations of the earth.
poem by Hayyim Nahman Bialik
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Give Yourself A Chance
Since thousands of years
Colors and religions are fighting against each other
But - where ever you are
Who ever you are
Give yourself a chance
For peace on earth
I'm back with the track
I'm white not black
But the color doesn't matter
So now step back
Brown or black or white no matter what
You now what time it is
It's time to say enough
Cause every nation in a situation
You know its time for a combination
See what they spray up on the wall
Stop the war
That's not your fault
Give yourself a chance
Right now
Give yourself a chance
For peace on earth
Give yourself a chance
Right now
Give yourself a chance
For peace on earth
You better listen
To what i got to say
I got the mic in my hand and i am on my way
It's not terminator, not superman
Not a bad story of the ku-klux-klan
It's like a picture
And it starts to shine
It's bright in colors, so open your mind
Give yourself a chance
Take it in your hand
Give yourself a chance
Got to understand
There's a nightmare were dreaming of
Cold violence and war
What we are living for
Is love we adore
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give
Oooohhhh, ooohhh
Oooohhhh, ooohhh
Well now if you want blood with your money,
You can help yourself,
And if you want a lot more then you got coming,
I will never tell,
I will weigh all your time and your wealth,
If it makes you smile,
But now if you want something worth while,
I can show you how
Listen to me now
Come on Give
Look them in the eye and
Give
There's nothing to decide
Come on Give
Look them in the eye and
Give
And take it all in stride
When you got enough food on your table
Blood in your mouth
Now you wanna taste something better
Then just spit it out
Listen to me now
Come on Give
Look them in the eye and
Give
Theres nothing to decide
Come on give
Look them in the eye and
Give
And take it all in stride
Oooohhhh, Ooohhh,
Oooohhhh, Ooohhh,
Give
Look them in the eye and
Give
Theres nothing to decide
Come on give
Look them in the eye and
Give
And take it all in stride
Give...
Give...
Give...
Give...
Give...
song performed by by Audioslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stop Stop Stop
(clarke - hicks - nash)
See the girl with cymbals on her fingers
Entering through the door
Ruby glistening from her navel
Shimmering around the floor
Bells on feet go ting-a ling-a linging
Going through my head
Sweat is falling just-a like-a tear drops
Running from her head
Now shes dancing, going through the movements
Swaying to and fro
Body moving, bringing back a memory
Thoughts of long ago
Blood is rushing, temperature is rising
Sweating from my brow
Like a snake, her body fascinates me
I cant look away now
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Give me time to breathe
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Or Ill have to leave
Now shes moving all around the tables
Luring all in sight
But I know that she cannot see me
Hidden by the light
Closer, closer, she is getting nearer
Soon shell be in reach
As I enter into a spotlight
She stands lost for speech
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Give me time to breathe
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Or Ill have to leave
Break
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Give me time to breathe
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Or Ill have to leave
Now I hold her, people are staring
Dont know what to think
And we struggle knocking over tables
Spilling all the drinks
Cant they understand that I want her
Happens every week
Heavy hand upon my collar
Throws me in the street
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Give me time to breathe
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Or Ill have to leave
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pilgrims
Who is your lady of love, O ye that pass
Singing? and is it for sorrow of that which was
That ye sing sadly, or dream of what shall be?
For gladly at once and sadly it seems ye sing.
--Our lady of love by you is unbeholden;
For hands she hath none, nor eyes, nor lips, nor golden
Treasure of hair, nor face nor form; but we
That love, we know her more fair than anything.
--Is she a queen, having great gifts to give?
--Yea, these; that whoso hath seen her shall not live
Except he serve her sorrowing, with strange pain,
Travail and bloodshedding and bitterer tears;
And when she bids die he shall surely die.
And he shall leave all things under the sky
And go forth naked under sun and rain
And work and wait and watch out all his years.
--Hath she on earth no place of habitation?
--Age to age calling, nation answering nation,
Cries out, Where is she? and there is none to say;
For if she be not in the spirit of men,
For if in the inward soul she hath no place,
In vain they cry unto her, seeking her face,
In vain their mouths make much of her; for they
Cry with vain tongues, till the heart lives again.
--O ye that follow, and have ye no repentance?
For on your brows is written a mortal sentence,
An hieroglyph of sorrow, a fiery sign,
That in your lives ye shall not pause or rest,
Nor have the sure sweet common love, nor keep
Friends and safe days, nor joy of life nor sleep.
--These have we not, who have one thing, the divine
Face and clear eyes of faith and fruitful breast.
--And ye shall die before your thrones be won.
--Yea, and the changed world and the liberal sun
Shall move and shine without us, and we lie
Dead; but if she too move on earth and live,
But if the old world with all the old irons rent
Laugh and give thanks, shall we be not content?
Nay, we shall rather live, we shall not die,
Life being so little and death so good to give.
--And these men shall forget you.--Yea, but we
Shall be a part of the earth and the ancient sea,
And heaven-high air august, and awful fire,
And all things good; and no man's heart shall beat
But somewhat in it of our blood once shed
Shall quiver and quicken, as now in us the dead
Blood of men slain and the old same life's desire
Plants in their fiery footprints our fresh feet.
--But ye that might be clothed with all things pleasant,
Ye are foolish that put off the fair soft present,
That clothe yourselves with the cold future air;
When mother and father and tender sister and brother
And the old live love that was shall be as ye,
Dust, and no fruit of loving life shall be.
--She shall be yet who is more than all these were,
Than sister or wife or father unto us or mother.
--Is this worth life, is this, to win for wages?
Lo, the dead mouths of the awful grey-grown ages,
The venerable, in the past that is their prison,
In the outer darkness, in the unopening grave,
Laugh, knowing how many as ye now say have said,
How many, and all are fallen, are fallen and dead:
Shall ye dead rise, and these dead have not risen?
--Not we but she, who is tender and swift to save.
--Are ye not weary and faint not by the way,
Seeing night by night devoured of day by day,
Seeing hour by hour consumed in sleepless fire?
Sleepless: and ye too, when shall ye too sleep?
--We are weary in heart and head, in hands and feet,
And surely more than all things sleep were sweet,
Than all things save the inexorable desire
Which whoso knoweth shall neither faint nor weep.
--Is this so sweet that one were fain to follow?
Is this so sure where all men's hopes are hollow.
Even this your dream, that by much tribulation
Ye shall make whole flawed hearts, and bowed necks straight?
--Nay, though our life were blind, our death were fruitless,
Not therefore were the whole world's high hope rootless;
But man to man, nation would turn to nation,
And the old life live, and the old great world be great.
--Pass on then and pass by us and let us be,
For what light think ye after life to see?
And if the world fare better will ye know?
And if man triumph who shall seek you and say?
--Enough of light is this for one life's span,
That all men born are mortal, but not man:
And we men bring death lives by night to sow,
That man may reap and eat and live by day.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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To the Oracle at Delphi
Great Oracle, why are you staring at me,
do I baffle you, do I make you despair?
I, Americus, the American,
wrought from the dark in my mother long ago,
from the dark of ancient Europa--
Why are you staring at me now
in the dusk of our civilization--
Why are you staring at me
as if I were America itself
the new Empire
vaster than any in ancient days
with its electronic highways
carrying its corporate monoculture
around the world
And English the Latin of our days--
Great Oracle, sleeping through the centuries,
Awaken now at last
And tell us how to save us from ourselves
and how to survive our own rulers
who would make a plutocracy of our democracy
in the Great Divide
between the rich and the poor
in whom Walt Whitman heard America singing
O long-silent Sybil,
you of the winged dreams,
Speak out from your temple of light
as the serious constellations
with Greek names
still stare down on us
as a lighthouse moves its megaphone
over the sea
Speak out and shine upon us
the sea-light of Greece
the diamond light of Greece
Far-seeing Sybil, forever hidden,
Come out of your cave at last
And speak to us in the poet's voice
the voice of the fourth person singular
the voice of the inscrutable future
the voice of the people mixed
with a wild soft laughter--
And give us new dreams to dream,
Give us new myths to live by!
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
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Sonnet- What’s Life Truth?
The Sun bestows its light during the day;
The Moon's mirror reflects the same at night;
In life, we learn to give others some way;
Or help others see life in God's true light.
In life, we give others more than we take;
Mind you, we bring nothing with us at birth;
The flour God gives determines what we bake,
And when we cease, we go to Mother Earth.
Why slog all life to earn a wealth we leave?
'Tis wiser sharing it with those who live;
The yarn of life decides fabric we weave;
'Tis wise to take lesser and more to give.
True happiness on earth is when we give,
Our excess wealth to men, struggling to live.
poem by John Celes
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The Furrow And The Hearth
I
STRIDE the hill, Sower,
Up to the sky ridge,
Flinging the seed,
Scattering, exultant!
Mouthing great rhythms
To the long sea-beats
On the wide shore, behind
The ridge of the hillside.
Below in the darkness
The slumber of mothers,
The cradles at rest,
The fire-seed sleeping
Deep in white ashes!
Give to darkness and sleep,
O Sower, O Seer!
Give me to the earth
With the seed I would enter!
Oh, the growth through the silence
From strength to new strength;
Then the strong bursting forth
Against primal forces,
To laugh in the sunshine,
To gladden the world!
II
Who will bring the red fire
Unto a new hearth?
Who will lay the wide stone
On the waste of the earth?
Who is fain to begin
To build day by day
To raise up his house
Of the moist yellow clay?
There's clay for the making
Moist in the pit,
There are horses to trample
The rushes through it.
Above where the wild duck
Arise up and fly,
There one can build
To the wind and the sky.
There are boughs in the forest
To pluck young and green,
O'er them thatch of the crop
Shall be heavy and clean.
I speak unto him
Who in dead of the night
Sees the red streaks
In the ash deep and white;
While around him he hears
Men stir in their rest,
And the stir of the babe
That is close to the breast!
He shall arise,
He shall go forth alone,
Lay stone on the earth,
And bring fire to stone.
poem by Padraic Colum
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What He Will Do
Your sinful past God will erase, when you step into His Grace,
The Grace that you do receive, when in Christ, you do believe.
Christ will come into your night, and fill your heart with His light.
Today if you truly seek His face, you my friend He will embrace.
He will take you from your past, giving you a future that will last.
God will set your heart just right, as He gives you His new sight,
As He will give you eyes to see, eyes that will focus on eternity.
Jesus Christ will cleanse your heart, and give to you a new start.
On earth you’re given a new life, thru the power of Jesus Christ,
This is to live our life every day, and in a new and powerful way.
God gives men new direction, that leads them to a resurrection,
Through the power of new birth, you will be lifted from the earth.
God will give to you my friend, from any beginning, a better end.
For all men face a certain death, on the earth at their last breath.
But with a belief in Jesus Christ, Believers will have Eternal Life.
Christ will give to you a peace, which in your soul will not cease.
Most men will return to dust, however this is not true for all of us.
Christ making all things new, includes believers like me and you.
For when our sin was forgiven, we were both marked to be risen.
And a New Body will be yours, when in Glory, you see The Lord.
(Copyright ©02/2006)
Sonnet: God Made Us Divinely
0 take my body, mind and heart; they're yours;
0 take them Lord, before I destroy them;
0 take my soul back ‘fore I sin more, Boss;
Give me a soul of stone, not priceless gem.
0 take my special senses back, my God;
I misused them so frequently since birth;
0 take my every dropp of blood back, Lord;
Before I spill it uselessly on earth.
0 take the precious life back that you gave;
The devils make me sin so easily;
I wish I go to live just in a cave;
They understand me not, my family!
God, allow Death to lay its hands on me;
I wish to quit earth, early, heavenly.
poem by John Celes
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