The Betrayed Soldier
The dust of heroes clinging to my soles,
Might be all, there is, for my guts to show,
As I walk on grounds, once hallowed by holes,
Of bombs, blasting to Hell a soul or two;
The cause for which, these men have lived and died,
Still lingered, long after the gunfires ceased,
Yet seen by hearts, with eyes whose tears have dried,
Now living, with life badly torn and creased;
The dust of fools may soon cover the field,
To bury all heroics of the place,
And might, a crop of cowards it would yield,
But nary, will the glory they'll replace;
......For alas, victory was won with words,
......So much grimmer, than with parley of swords.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Ill Give You My Skin
Well you
You can sit in your highchairs
Highchairs are for children
You can sit in your highchairs and laugh
Ill give you my best face
Ill give you my freedom
Ill give you my feet and my hands
Im keeping my eyes
Open open open to the field
Hold your dances there
Take the crop
Share the yield
You can join us together
Break us apart
A wound in the skin is a break in the heart
You can coast on your laughter
High shelf your heart
But laughters for healing
Not tearing apart
Im keeping my eyes
Open to the fields
You can hold your dances there
Take the crop
Share the yield
Not a soul is lost
But collapse in the walls
You can dance in the dust
You can walk it off walk walk it off
If youre falling youre falling
Come calling to me
Falling falling
Ill give you my skin
I will give you my skin
Im keeping my eyes
Open to the field
(if youre falling youre falling come calling to me)
You can hold your dances here
(if youre falling youre falling come calling to me)
Take the crop, share the yield
(if youre falling youre falling come calling to me)
Im keeping my eyes
(if youre falling youre falling come calling to me)
Open to the field
(if youre falling youre falling come calling to me)
Hold your dances there
(if youre falling youre falling come calling to me)
Take the crop share the yield
If youre falling youre falling come calling to me
If youre falling youre falling come calling to me
If youre falling youre falling come calling to me
I will give you my skin
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll Give You My Skin (feat. Michael Stipe)
I'll Give You My Skin" is a song written by both of the girls with
Michael Stipe. I kinda suspect that the lyrics are mostly Stipe.
Anyway, I'm told that it was recorded at the end of 1988, while the
girls were recording their first Epic album. It appears on the "Tame
Yourself" benefit compilation. Go buy it.
I'll Give You My Skin.
Well, you - you can sit in your high chairs
High chairs are for children
You can sit in your high chairs and laugh
I'll give you my best face
I'll give you my freedom
I'll give you my feet and my hands
I'm keeping my eyes
Open, open, open to the field
Hold your dances there
Take the crop
Share the yield
You can join us together
Break us apart
A wound in the skin is a break in the heart
You can coast on your laughter
High shelf your heart
But laughter's for healing, not tearing apart
I'm keeping my eyes
Open to the fields
You can hold your dances there
Take the crop
Share the yield
Not a soul is lost
For collapsing the walls
You can dance in the dust
You can walk it off, walk, walk it off
If you're fallin', you're fallin'
Come callin' to me
Fallin', Fallin'
I'll give you my skin
I will give you my skin
I'm keeping my eyes
Open to the field
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
You can hold your dances here
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
Take the crop, share the yield
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
I'm keeping my eyes
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
Open to the field
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
Hold your dances there
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
Take the crop, share the yield
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me
If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me
I will give you my skin
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children's Playground In The City
THIS is a place where men laid their dead,
Each with his life-tale of good or ill;
Here prayers were murmured and hot tears shed,
And passionate anguish moaned its fill.
Silent now is each voice that cried,
And the tears that were wept have all been dried
In the dust; and dust are the hearts that bled
With hopeless longing for hearts grown still.
Dead and forgotten! for Death, requiter
Of love, taught Memory how to forget!
The love that remembered them died. Grow brighter,
Oh, dim grave-garden, with dead hearts set!
Room for the small flying feet to pass,
The feet of the children over the grass!
The dead, if they knew it, would feel them lighter
Than the weight of a stone that no tears make wet.
We must die too, and the grief that will live
Must die as surely--death comes to all;
But you who come after--let Nature give
To our graves her tears, to our dust her pall:
Let her hide us away in her cold broad breast,
Let us be forgotten, and be at rest,
And over our heads let the great world strive,
And the children's voices carol and call.
If your heart on the flower of remembrance is set,
There is one way to pluck it--and only one:
Dare you ask your country not to forget
A name that needs to be graved on stone?
By grief, strife, sacrifice, scorn of fame,
You may grave on the people's hearts your name,
Or your name may die, and your soul live yet
In the cause you died for--the work you have done.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Raised Up By God
Friend, I was raised up by God, to walk with Him upon earth’s sod,
He raised me up from the dust, when He breathed life into all of us.
But, because of man’s sinful fall, I did not walk with The Lord at all,
I simply went about my sinful way, living only for myself day to day.
Although I did not walk with Him, He came to save me from my sin,
While upon that cross at Calvary, where Christ died for you and me.
That sin that lead my heart astray, had taken me down a darker way,
But it was God’s love, not His wrath, that lead me to a brighter path.
I simply lived a life of emptiness, as I lived in my own righteousness,
A life far removed from God above, and void of His Grace and Love.
And it took me to an empty plight, all shaded by the darkened night,
But He put me on a path that’s right, one filled with my Savior’s Light.
God then raised me up to New Life, one that is found in Jesus Christ,
The Lord, who had truly died for me, has now given me Life Eternally.
Christ who raised me from the dust, is the One in whom I put my trust,
And through the power of New Birth, will soon raise me from the earth.
I shall be raised by Christ my Lord, to then live with God forevermore,
Until then, God fills these earthly days, with His Power and His Praise,
To lead others on earth to new life, through the Power of Jesus Christ,
And when together we are raised, in Glory God will be forever praised.
Lift up your heads, ye gates of brass;
Lift up your heads, ye gates of brass;
Ye bars of iron, yield!
And let the King of glory pass;
The Cross is in the field!
A holy war his servants wage,
Mysteriously at strife;
The powers of heaven and hell engage
For more than death or life.
Ye armies of the living God,
His sacramental host,
Where hallowed footstep never trod,
Take your appointed post.
Follow the Cross; the ark of Peace
Accompany your path:
To souls imprisoned bring release
From bondage and from wrath.
Uplifted are the gates of brass;
The bars of iron yield;
Behold the King of glory pass!
The Cross has won the field!
poem by James Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stories About Home
I lived once in the North
And for a while, way in the South
I have some stories... that'll
Tear a man's heart out
These are the one's
I numbered ten... eleven...and twelve...
They moved so fast...
I ended living... in living Hell
But those that I numbered one thru nine...
They let the world see...why... my eyes..
My heart...
Will never again shine
I know It's hard sometimes to live
Where you can't see the sun...
Because of all that... endless rain...
I look to see.. how too... help others
Because I have lived...every kind of pain
So I write the stories...
Some are good
But often... some are very bad
They often leave hearts torn....
Spilling eyes... so sad...
And sometimes... I'll talk about the incredibly bad
But can you see the purpose...of writing
These stories... these poems...
Through the tears.... the weeping... and crying...
It's just my heart....
Trying to find a way...to move back home...
So to anyone whom read these stories. They're what I write.
They're the words of what I feel. They're the stories about wounds,
about that life, my family, about souls that never seem to heal.
They're the words of truth, they help with what I feel. For these stories
are the cause of tears...that just wont end...they're the stories that are
impossibe to bear.
They are the stoires of my family, abuse, of damage
and how love was not spared....
So many stories that'll never disappear
A soul covered with scars
Of sadness that fills a heart
That burns each time those hate words...
And abuse that breaks it apart
Clyde Grant Bryson
poem by Clyde Bryson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Honest Questions
Can you see
Honest questions in my heart this hour
opening like a flower
To the rain?
And do you know the silent sorrows
of a never ending journey
through the pain?
Do you see a brighter day for me?
Another day?
A day?
Do you wonder what's in store for me?
The cure for me?
The way?
Oh look down 'n see the tears I've cried
The lives I've lived
The deaths I've died
But you've died them too
And all for me
and you say (faded)
"I will pour my water down
upon a thirsty barren land
and streams will flow from the dust of
your bruised and broken soul
You will grow like the grass
upon the fertile plains of Asia by the streams
of living water,
You will grow, Oh, You will grow"
Do you know
The story from the start?
and do you know me
like you've always told me?
Do you see
the whispers in my heart against your kindness
my eternal blindness
Do you see?
Do you see a brighter day for me?
Another day?
A day?
Do you wonder what's in store for me?
The cure for me?
The way?
Oh look down see the tears I've cried
The lives I've lived
The deaths I've died
But you've died them too
And all for me
and you say (faded)
"I will pour my water down
upon a thirsty barren land
and streams will flow from the dust of
your bruised and broken soul
You will grow like the grass
upon the fertile plains of Asia by the streams
of living water,
You will grow, Oh, You will grow"
"I will pour my water down
upon a thirsty barren land
and streams will flow from the dust of
your bruised and broken soul
You will grow like the grass
upon the fertile plains of Asia by the streams
of living water,
You will grow, Oh, You will grow
song performed by by Daniel Bedingfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Along The War Avenue Of honour
Along the war Avenue of Honour a plaque to a dead soldier nailed to every tree
Brave young men who died in battle their reward for their bravery
They died in the war said to end all wars in the killing fields of World war one
But many wars since and far too many bloody battles and peace in the World not yet won.
Wars started by silly ageing men who send the young for them to die
Ageing men who themselves will die of old age and their twilight years they will enjoy,
ageing males heroes of their people we honour cowards as heroes one might say
The young men will go to war for them and the young men with their young lives pay.
The war supposed to end all wars long over almost nine decades since have gone by
But many wars have been fought since then and war pilots dropp their big bombs from the night sky
But suppose that's what will always happen when we give all of our power away
To silly and ageing male war men who with hair dyes cover their gray.
Along the war avenue of honour long dead soldiers names on every tree
Young noble men who died in battle far from homeland and family
In what was to be the war to end all wars yet we don't have much wisdom to show
For the loss of so many fine young men well over eight decades ago.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Future Glory
Through God’s Glory we shall shine, up in the Heavens for all of time.
Saved by Christ’s matchless Love, to shine forever in Heaven above.
Though the wicked don’t understand, we give Glory to the Son of Man.
Although He lives, He died for us, bringing Glory to our frames of dust.
Some wake to everlasting contempt; refusing the Son, God had sent.
While all men who believe in Christ, will rise above to Everlasting Life.
Although by men He was despised, Christ will capture all men’s eyes.
When in His Glory, God will come, through the Glory of Christ His Son.
When He returns to earth we’ll see, Christ in all His Glory and Majesty.
We shall shine in the Glory of, the One who died, to show God’s Love.
Men, who lead men to righteousness, will by God be eternally blessed.
For they will be purified and refined, to shine as the stars for all of time.
The Lord is watching from His Throne, noting the lives of His very own.
In His presence was written a scroll, what He remembers of every soul.
Noting men whose hearts implored, His mercy as they sought The Lord.
For in their heart was a reverent fear, knowing judgment was soon near.
They feared God honoring His Name, living above reproach and shame.
Knowing this, God said ‘they are mine”, to be His treasure for all of time.
God will distinguish the wicked from, the righteous belonging to His Son.
To shine like the Heavens forevermore, with God’s Son, Christ our Lord.
Bury My Heart
Bury my soul
Where the dust meets the sea
Turn it loose in a lonely place
Where man can still be free
Make up my clothes and sheets
In a ball, put them in the ground
Tell my children only truths
Teach them to be proud
Tell them dreams and miracles
When thy thunder stops
Bury my heart!
Bury my heart!
I was born a travelling trooper
But I laid my wings to rest
Once I beat myself in squallor
Now I feather up my nest
There are flags in my back yard
Colours on my wall
I pay my servant well
But I made the bastard crawl
>and I pretend no blessed evil soul
> that I dont hear that thunder start
Bury my heart!
Theres a lily in the valley
Where I brought the news to ro
I offered him my visions but
The heathen rose to go
So I took my shining sabre and I slew
My sinning friend
A christian burial was all he needed
To make him whole again
And I looked up way above me
And God rent the sky apart
Bury my heart!
Bury my heart!
Bury my heart!
Were gods chosen people
This and other truths I know
Put them into vicious practice
Because the Bible tells me so
And I drowned the noble savage
In the blessed holy water
I burned his filthy village
And I civilized his daughter
The liars in this world
Who say we shame the blood of christ
But killing is his mercy
And nits grow into lice
And all those gooks I napalmed
Man, I did it in gods name
When the fools put me on trial I shouted out
Im not to blame -- I did it for him!
I did it for him!
I did it for him!
He made do it!
He tore the heavens apart
Bury my heart!
Bury my heart!
Bury my heart!
Now Im going to wilderness
On a horse that I can trust
I will die where I fall
In the hot dry dust
And if you come to that place
Remember this truth
That he whos born to property
Is he whos born to lose
Will you bury my soul
Where the dust meets the sea
Will you bury my heart
At wounded knee!
Bury my heart
At wounded knee!
Bury my heart
At wounded knee!
Bury my heart!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Souls and Holes
Value some their souls whole
And wear with pride soles with holes,
Others pierce their souls with holes
And flaunt their fancy soles whole.
Blessed those with souls whole
Wearing with pride soles whole,
Lucky those with holes in souls
Suffering bites of holes in soles.
poem by Vinod Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Voices Of The Night : A Psalm Of Life
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream! -
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Psalm of Life
Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solenm main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Psalm Of Life
What the heart of the young man said to the psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!--
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Have They Done To Me
What have they done to me
To the air that I breathe and all I see
Diseased and abused and alone
Tell me what have they done to me
They took everything I had
And crushed it all into dust
Erased all my names so I would seem
So lost
So lost
So lost
I pulled myself from my woman
To wander through the night
I'm a long, long way from emptiness
So step aside
Am I to feel alive
Am I to feel alive
Am I to feel alive
But I nearly died
Am I to see the light
Am I to see the light
But I cried
For so long
So long
What have they done to me
To the birds that sing, yeah the simple things
I held all my curses
I can't seem to rest
But it's alright
It's alright
They took from me all that one could take
My children
My loves
My orchards of tears
It's all been borrowed so we must say
They sit in the kingdom of light
And now you know how one can be
As free as one could wanna be
Cause time won't let you walk away
Time won't let you be afraid
So don't be afraid
For too long
Too long
Am I to walk alone
Am I to walk alone
Am I to walk alone
But I nearly died
Am I to see the light
Am I to see the light
But I cried
Am I to walk alone
Am I to walk alone
Am I to walk alone
But I'm almost home
I might seem alive
I might seem alive
But I nearly died
I might seem alive
I might seem alive
I might seem alive
But I nearly died
Am I to walk alone
Am I to walk alone
Am I to walk alone
But I'm almost home
Yeah, I'm almost home
I might seem alive
I might seem alive
I might seem alive
But I nearly died
Yeah, I nearly died
So long
song performed by by Zwan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From Dust To Dust
A recycling comes,
To be lived as given to everyone.
From dust to dust.
In God we trust.
A recycling comes,
To be lived as given to everyone.
From dust to dust.
In God we trust.
To leech with a feeding.
And to feed from that which has been leeched.
A recycling comes,
To be lived as given to everyone.
From dust to dust.
In God we trust.
And to feed from that which has been leeched.
Until that leeching fed is done.
By you...
And me!
And...
Everyone.
Leechers!
Creatures!
And thieves under the Sun.
We be sighted to be unseen,
To hush when that moment comes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dust In The Wind
Music : Kerry Livgren
Lyrics: Kerry Livgren
I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment's gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Now, Don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But I Am Still Here (Memories Of The American Fly)
It hurts to get burned and torn and spit upon me
By those people that I am there to set free
But I am still here
I have through every war
With the Army, Air Force, Navy, Coast Guard and the Corps
But I am still here
Even though I might be worn
Dirty, and torn
But I am still here
I have been cut-up or even torn to cover the wounds of our men as they bleed
And even used to cover them on their way to their final resting their bed
But I am still here
As the heroes that fought alongside me in the past
I show respect to them by being flown at Half Mast
But I am still here
It hurts me to see why people salute me as I fly
It makes me feel proud, but I still want to cry
But I am still here
Only if people can see what I have through over the last 200 plus years
Then and only then they will understand my tears
But I am still here
poem by Frank Pulver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother's Son
It should never be done
For a mother to have to bury her son
In a sad tombstone filled place
Giving him over to the grounds embrace
It could have been anyone
But why, oh why was it a mother’s son?
Who decided to let him die?
What is she supposed to do?
Get back up and start to dry
The never ending tears from her eyes
He was her first and only hers
Now she’s living out the curse
Of life without him on this Earth
She remembers from his birth
Happy times, with no hurt
It could have been anyone
But why, oh why was it a mother’s son?
But over there is another
Bending, grieving a mother
But who is she to have to bear
Burdens that will always wear
On the hearts of mothers everywhere
She sees no life left to live
And yet her heart refuses to give
It is strong and will fight
And live the life
Taken away from one to young
It could have been anyone
But why, oh why was it a mother’s son?
poem by Rae Carroll
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A Tongue No Longer Used
My thoughts crawl to paper
My heart the pen I hold
My tongue is but a rapier
But my ink my very soul
So I hold back my fowl tongue
And write instead my tears
Without a sound air escapes my lungs
For I have learned from years
Though sharp I can be I shall not
No glory in death be had
Instead I shall hold fast my lot
And make my place in life less sad
For when your life is made to kill
Your life cannot be true
For when it's others blood you spill
Their life spills unto you
No longer yourself but an empty shell
A place where you once lived
This place now your living hell
The happiness taken with the shiv.
poem by John Dillenger II
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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