England in 1819
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,--
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn,--mud from a muddy spring,--
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,--
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,--
An army, which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,--
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay;
Religion Christless, Godless--a book sealed;
A Senate,--Time's worst statute unrepealed,--
Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst, to illumine our tempestous day.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Related quotes
Sonnet: England in 1819
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,--
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn,--mud from a muddy spring,--
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,--
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,--
An army, which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,--
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay;
Religion Christless, Godless—a book sealed;
A Senate,--Time’s worst statute, unrepealed,--
Are graves from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Blind
Signs
Signs are lost
Signs disappeared
Turn invisible
Got no sign
Somebody got busted
Got a face of stone
And a ghostwritten biography
Dogs start to run in,
Hungry for some food
Dogs start a-twitching
And theyre looking at you
It was light
By five
Torn all apart
All in the name of democracy
Hes hurt
Hes dying
Claimed he was a terrorist
Claimed to avert a catastrophe
Someone shoulda told him
That the buck stops here
No one ever said
That he was involved with thieves
And theyre blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
Blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
No sense of harmony, no sense of time,
Dont mention harmony,
Say: what is it? what is it? what is it?
Give a little shock, and he raises his hand
Somebody shouts out,
Says: what is it? what is it? what is it?
He was shot down in the night!
Peopple ride by but his bodys still alive
The girl in the window what has she done?
She looks down at me ...
Says: i dont want to die!
And Im blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
Blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
Somebody could have told us where they go
Crawling all around looking for foot, foot, footprints
Now tell me what the hell have we become?
Some dirty little bastards what the hell is going on? u
No sense of harmony, no sense of time,
Dont mention harmony,
Say: what is it? what is it? what is it?
Give a little shock, and he raises his hand
Somebody shouts out,
Says: what is it? what is it? what is it?
He was shot down in the night!
People ride by but his bodys still alive
The girl in the window what has she done? she looks down at me ...
Says: i dont want to die!
Theyre blind and theyre blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
Blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
Blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
Blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In A Dark Wood Wandering
The moans and screams of dying men;
a scene and sound surreal.
The flower of French Chivalry
cut down by English steel.
English Harry has won this day
on this wet and muddy ground.
So many high born men laid low,
but I am still around.
It was my blood that ransomed me
when others’ blood was shed.
I am the Duke of Orleans.
A poet, some have said.
In the aftermath of battle;
wounded, left to bleed.
Sir Richard Waller found me
and attended to my needs.
So today I am his prisoner,
we’ll become friends in time.
Now I am bound for England
as a “guest” of the English crown.
We’d had the numbers and the strength
to bring proud Henry down.
His Yeoman archers turned the tide
on this awful muddy ground.
Beset by woods on either flank
No room to strike or move.
It was our Constables’ worst mistake
and the last, as time would prove
Like a dark and deadly rain they fell
out of a clear blue sky.
Here on the field of Agincourt
where Princes came to die.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Spanish Peasant
We have no aspiration vain
For paradise Utopian,
And here in our sun-happy Spain,
Though man exploit his fellow man,
To high constraint we humbly yield,
And turn from politics to toil,
Content to till a kindly field
And bring forth bounty from the soil.
They tell us wars will never cease;
They sy the world is out of joint.
How well we Know! But peace is peace
Even imposed at pistol point.
And we have learnt our lesson well,
By many a death, by many a tear;
So let us live a feudal spell, -
The cost of freedom is too dear.
Let us be the cattle kind,
Praying the goad be not a sword;
In servitude obeying blind
The tyrant ruling of our Lord.
His army can be swift to slay,
His Church teach us humility . . .
But never never will we pay
Again blood-price for Liberty.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Labour Agitator
LET the liar call me liar,
And the robber call me thief.
They can only fan the fire
That is born of my belief.
While I’m speaking, while I’m writing,
To reform the wrongful laws,
Well I know that I am fighting
For the grand old Cause.
See the army of the rebels
Marching on for evermore.
We are countless as the pebbles
That are strewn along the shore.
Agitating, agitating,
Till the Truth has sealed the fate
Of the wrongs that I am hating
With the grand old Hate.
Though no battle banner rustles
In a smoke that blurs the blue,
As when “heroes” poured from Brussels
To the field of Waterloo,
Though we do not hear the rattle
Of the rifles in the wars,
There is glory in the battle
For the grand old Cause.
See the army of the rebels
Marching on for evermore.
We are countless as the pebbles
That are strewn along the shore.
Agitating, agitating,
Till the Truth has sealed the fate
Of the wrongs that I am hating
With the grand old Hate.
No! I look not to the reaping
In the dynasty of men,
For I know that I’ll be sleeping
In a slandered grave e’er then.
Till his right to man is given
We’ll rebel, and we’ll rebel
As we would rebel in heaven
If it proved a hell.
See the army of the rebels
Marching on for evermore.
We are countless as the pebbles
That are strewn along the shore.
Agitating, agitating,
Till the Truth has sealed the fate
Of the wrongs that I am hating
With the grand old Hate.
No! There’s neither creed nor nation
Where the Labour flag’s unfurled,
For the Labour agitation
Breaks the barriers of the world.
Let the rulers fly in terror
With their scornful lips uncurled,
One by one the gods of error
From their thrones are hurled.
See the army of the rebels
Marching on for evermore.
We are countless as the pebbles
That are strewn along the shore.
Agitating, agitating,
Till the Truth has sealed the fate
Of the wrongs that I am hating
With the grand old Hate.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Princes Of The Universe
Words and music by freddie mercury
Here we are.born to be kings.
Were the princes of the universe.
Here we belong.fighting to survive.
In a world with the darkest powers.
And here we are.were the princes of the universe.
Here we belong.fighting for survival.
Weve come to be the rulers of your world.
I am immortal.i have inside me blood of kings.
I have no rival.no man can be my equal.
Take me to the future of your world.
Born to be kings.princes of the universe.
Fighting and free.got your world in my hand.
Im here for your love and Ill make my stand.
We were born to be princes of the universe.
No man could understand.my power is in my own hand.
Ooh.ooh.ooh.ooh.people talk about you.
People say youve had your day.
Im a man that will go far.
Fly the moon and reach for the stars.
With my sword and head held high.
Got to pass the test first time - yeah.
I know that people talk about me I hear it every day.
But I can prove you wrong cos Im right first time.
Yeah.yeah.alright.watch this man fly.
Bring on the girls.
Here we are.born to be kings.were the princes of
The universe.here we belong.born to be kings.
Princes of the universe.fighting and free.
Got the world in my hands.Im here for your love.
And Ill make my stand.
We were born to be princes of the universe.
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moses Dedicated The Law Of Moses
Moses read to the people the law.
The people promised to obey the law.
Moses sprinkled blood on the people
blood on the book sealed the people
sealed in contact with dedicating blood
thus was born a new Mosaic Covenant
the first covenant was dedicated blood
Moses spoke every precept
to all the people according to the law
Moses took blood of calves
goats, with water, scarlet wool, hyssop
sprinkled both the book and all the people
saying 'This is the blood of the covenant
which God has commanded you.' Hebrews 9: 18-22.
Moses sprinkled with blood
both the tabernacle and all vessels
of ministry according to law
almost all things
holy are purified
in sacrificial blood
shedding of blood
there is remission
atonement in blood
poem by Terence George Craddock
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There Is No Glory
There is no glory
in dying before your time
or having your remains
scattered across some muddy field.
There is no glory
in a war of any sorts.
We may take issues with another
with fingers pointed in scorn,
but there is no glory
when death becomes involved
and bodies lie scattered
on some remote muddy field.
There is no glory
in the multiples of death
during any kind of war.
It is the innocent
that end up sleeping
in death’s dark lonely bed.
poem by David Harris
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Psalm 107 last part
Colonies planted; or, Nations blessed and punished.
A Psalm for New England.
When God, provoked with daring crimes,
Scourges the madness of the times,
He turns their fields to barren sand,
And dries the rivers from the land.
His word can raise the springs again,
And make the withered mountains green;
Send showery blessings from the skies,
And harvests in the desert rise.
[Where nothing dwelt but beasts of prey,
Or men as fierce and wild as they,
He bids th' oppressed and poor repair,
And builds them towns and cities there.
They sow the fields, and trees they plant,
Whose yearly fruit supplies their want;
Their race grows up from fruitful stocks,
Their wealth increases with their flocks.
Thus they are blessed; but if they sin,
He lets the heathen nations in;
A savage crew invades their lands,
Their princes die by barb'rous hands.
Their captive sons, exposed to scorn,
Wander unpitied and forlorn;
The country lies unfenced, untilled,
And desolation spreads the field.
Yet if the humbled nation mourns,
Again his dreadful hand he turns;
Again he makes their cities thrive,
And bids the dying churches live.]
The righteous, with a joyful sense,
Admire the works of Providence;
And tongues of atheists shall no more
Blaspheme the God that saints adore.
How few with pious care record
These wondrous dealings of the Lord!
But wise observers still shall find
The Lord is holy, just, and kind.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Blind
Ive been searching for the answers
Ive been diving in the sea
Ive been haunted by the shadows
Of what we could have been
And its not that Im broken
And it isnt that I bleed
But when you pulled the stars from the heavens
It got so hard to see
And where would I put my hands now?
Its over now, we had our time
Its over now, we had our time
But you leave me, blind
Will you leave me, blind
Dove for the treasures
We went deep down for the pearls
And we could have cracked it open
Yeah, it could have been so good
And where would I put my hands now?
Its over now, we had our time
Its over now, we had our time
I feel this pain, I know Im alive
If love is wrong, then Im doing time
I feel myself, small like a child
My love has gone, how will I survive
Its everywhere, its in the trees
All those stars and I cant see
Im blind, Im blind, Im blind
And how will you think of us
A crease along your hand
Lying at these temple doors
Beautiful and sad
And where would I put my hands now?
Its over now, we had our time
Its over now , we had our time
But you leave me, blind
Will you leave me, blind
Its in the trees
All those stars and I cant see
Oh, you leave me, you leave
You leave me, blind, blind
Ooh, you leave me, you leave me
Its in the trees
You leave me, you leave me
Blind
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peace and honor for new nation
Peace and honor should go together
It is big question to understand and bother
It involves no big or small nations
But question of deep attachment in relation
No country may want to live under shame
Popular will in this sense can’t be blamed
The tolerance has its limit and may anytime explode
At any time to attain the real freedom
Even bad rulers may be tolerated
If their steps are welfare oriented
Certain amount of misrule is also of less concern
Until it speaks of no bad intention and turn
The desert fox connived for higher ambition
It exceeded all civil norms and limitations
People could no more trust for their lives
Normal men had no means with peace to live
Country could afford no more burdens
It needed out burst with ignition all of sudden
One more fatal blow and nation was to be restored
To its full glory of past and honored
Finally it has seen the golden day
Peace has finally descended in its own way
Country has witnessed enough of bad blood
There is shortage of medicines, commodities and food
Libyan people are brave and blessed with natural wealth
There is enough to eat and manage for good health
If people are happy and remain united
It is befitting occasion to feel as librated
Any nation may feel proud with its ancient heritage
Only rulers take note of it and ably manage
Whether system is democratic or with semi pattern
It must be happily shared by all without any concern
We all must wish this young nation a prosperous start
Live in harmony with neighbors and never depart
From stated position of non-interference and neutrality
That shall certainly grant peaceful atmosphere with stability
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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We and our Laws
Our laws permit the police
to lay a trap to catch,
the worst criminal at large,
only on receiving complaints.
The people are cut into size
by the laws of our land
and those of the chopper-rowdies.
The weak and the meek can’t dare
file complaints against the killers
and the cops ignore the unruly deeds.
Some doctors loot the kidneys
and make a quick fortune.
They land in jails after a decade
when the police receive complaints.
Some feign as tax-officers
crush the flowers in the cine-films
and rob their hard-earned money.
The cops won’t act till those girls
come and report with flashing cameras around.
Some unlawful youths kill and scare,
amass wealth in crores,
pipe funds to ruling parties;
the public and the police remain tight-lipped.
The officers need to praise them on dais
in fear of being transferred or blackmailed.
The people feel insecure to see some cops
or the culprits reaching atop the public life.
The politicians too feel uneasy
When the reporters hired or bought step in
as they of the Fourth Estate
could make or mar someone’s repute.
The factors of caste, religion, dinner and cash
spur the newsmen to turn their cameras
and wield their pens to belch out fire and filth.
May God bless those who haven’t joined parties!
---------------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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A Political Spin
After the day's work,
I sat down in an idle mind
Before the television-
Turning towards the news channels.
With a mind that knew
Like the daily news readings
They will be reading some news-
That will bring out
The animal like nature
Of the humans.
But suddenly! !
Oh what am I seeing
Infront of my own eyes?
Is this a dream or horrible night mare?
What bloody, terrible scene is it?
Of human protectors fleecing upon
Their own brothers and sisters,
Their own countrymen-
Of same religion, of same language.
These men wearing uniforms
Pledged when they wore the same-
'SATYA MEWA JAYATE.'
And now they are trying to hide the truth
By supressing public opinion!
By acting like the dogs of wars of rulers/
Are they not supposed to protect us?
Are they not supposed to keep us in a country of freedom?
Oh why am I askng these questions?
Though I know that they are hunters
And not protectors.
Women are seen with great reverence
From the traditional point of view.
But do respect to them mean respecting only the rich
Yes I may not be of the same opinion
But the rulers are-
And so are their blind servants.
Do setting up of big industries
In exchange of poor lives-
Means development in true sense?
On the borders of the country-
Soldiers are dying to save their motherland;
But here lies the similarity and dissimilarity-
On one hand here too fighting is on
But is it to protect the lands?
I know, I surely know-
The rebellion now may stop
due to the smashing of the opponents.
The poor people now may think,
That what the best they can do
Is to break their skulls on the rocks.
Their tremendous pains will not prick
The stone hearts of the rulers-
Who are always busy
Satisfying their whims.
But I know better,
Oh rulers take this as a warning
As the second rebellion can
Shake your thrones
And who knows!
such may be the condition of your fates
That they would crawl on the soil
With no one to do the cremation.
-This poem is a very brief summary of the tortures and sufferings inferred on the poor people of West Bengal
(a state in India) by the ruling CPM party.This is a shame on our democracy.
poem by Sonnet Mondal
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Spinning
Like a blind spinner in the sun,
I tread my days;
I know that all the threads will run
Appointed ways;
I know each day will bring its task,
And, being blind, no more I ask.
I do not know the use or name
Of that I spin:
I only know that some one came,
And laid within
My hand the thread, and said, 'Since you
Are blind, but one thing you can do.'
Sometimes the threads so rough and fast
And tangled fly,
I know wild storms are sweeping past,
And fear that I
Shall fall; but dare not try to find
A safer place, since I am blind.
I know not why, but I am sure
That tint and place,
In some great fabric to endure
Past time and race,
My threads will have; so from the first,
Though blind, I never felt accurst.
I think, perhaps. this trust has sprung
From one short word
Said over me when I was young,--
So young, I heard
It, knowing not that God's name signed
My brow, and sealed me His, though blind.
But whether this be seal or sign
Within, without,
It matters not. The bond divine
I never doubt.
I know He set me here, and still,
And glad, and blind, I wait His will;
But listen, listen, day by day,
To hear their tread
Who bear the finished web away,
And cut the thread,
And bring God's message in the sun,
'Thou poor blind spinner, work is done.'
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Faster Disco
Styling, you know you are styling
So turn to the mirror and blow yourself a kiss
It goes just like this
Youve done it a thousand times
Its as easy as drinking wine, only now its blood.
Here it come again
(treating you so kind)
Till it comes again
(leaving you no mind)
Your feelings, they flow without reason
So look to the stars above and
Blow it all away.
I come without warning
Some call me morning,
I wipe all your tears away, the evil ones I kill
Here it comes again
(treating you so kind)
Till it comes again
(leaving you no mind)
Taking the form of pain this time
It never treats you unkind
Your followers, lead them blind
And suck away their lives
Cause yours depends on it
Here it comes again
Chasing the night away
song performed by by Faith No More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Buried Chief
(November 6th, 1886)
With speechless lips and solemn tread
They brought the Lawyer-Statesman home:
They laid him with the gather'd dead,
Where rich and poor like brothers come.
How bravely did the stripling climb,
From step to step the rugged hill:
His gaze thro' that benighted time
Fix'd on the far-off beacon still.
He faced the storm that o'er him burst,
With pride to match the proudest born:
He bore unblench'd Detraction's worst, --
Paid blow for blow, and scorn for scorn.
He scaled the summit while the sun
Yet shone upon his conquer'd track:
Nor falter'd till the goal was won,
Nor struggling upward, once look'd back.
But what avails the "pride of place",
Or winged chariot rolling past?
He heeds not now who wins the race,
Alike to him the first or last.
poem by Sir Henry Parkes
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Still Falls the Rain
Still falls the Rain---
Dark as the world of man, black as our loss---
Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails
Upon the Cross.
Still falls the Rain
With a sound like the pulse of the heart that is changed to the hammer-beat
In the Potter's Field, and the sound of the impious feet
On the Tomb:
Still falls the Rain
In the Field of Blood where the small hopes breed and the human brain
Nurtures its greed, that worm with the brow of Cain.
Still falls the Rain
At the feet of the Starved Man hung upon the Cross.
Christ that each day, each night, nails there, have mercy on us---
On Dives and on Lazarus:
Under the Rain the sore and the gold are as one.
Still falls the Rain---
Still falls the Blood from the Starved Man's wounded Side:
He bears in His Heart all wounds,---those of the light that died,
The last faint spark
In the self-murdered heart, the wounds of the sad uncomprehending dark,
The wounds of the baited bear---
The blind and weeping bear whom the keepers beat
On his helpless flesh... the tears of the hunted hare.
Still falls the Rain---
Then--- O Ile leape up to my God: who pulles me doune---
See, see where Christ's blood streames in the firmament:
It flows from the Brow we nailed upon the tree
Deep to the dying, to the thirsting heart
That holds the fires of the world,---dark-smirched with pain
As Caesar's laurel crown.
Then sounds the voice of One who like the heart of man
Was once a child who among beasts has lain---
"Still do I love, still shed my innocent light, my Blood, for thee."
poem by Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
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The Greeks by their laws, and the Romans by the spirit of their people, took care to put into the hands of their rulers no such engine of oppression as a standing army. Their system was to make every man a soldier, and oblige him to repair to the standard of his country whenever that was reared. This made them invincible and the same remedy will make us so.
quote by Thomas Jefferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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1975
Brawling scratches mean a bad hair day
Go on and press your face
All up against the glass
Watch and wonder as the pretty things spin and burn
Swing and missing all
Almost every time
Yeah, almost every time
Brawling scratches mean a bad hair day
Go on and press your face
All up against the glass
Watch and wonder as the pretty things spin and burn
Swing and missing all
Almost every time
Im not alive, 1975
Id spend my time wasted, dull, damaged, and blind
Im not alive, 1975
Yeah, 1975
I see scratches and the idiot kids
I watched them getting high
Out in the cold blue sky
Watch and wonder as the asphalt babies burned
Dancing in the flame, laughing all of the while
Im not alive, 1975
Id spend my time wasted, dull, damaged, and blind
Im not alive, 1975
Watch and wonder as they fade away...
Dull, damaged, and blind...
Sounds a lot like me
Dull, damaged, and blind...
Sounds a lot like me
Dull, damaged, and blind...
Yeah, almost all of the time
Dull, damaged, and blind...
Whoa, 1975
I m not alive, 1975
I was not alive, 1975
Id spend all my time wasted dull, damaged, and blind 1975
Watch and wonder as they fade away...
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Virgins, To Make Much Of Time
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may:
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles to-day,
To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best, which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times, still succeed the former.
--Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.
poem by Robert Herrick
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