The Latin One
[ lyrics: wilfred owen/music: j.c. lombardo ]
Bent double like old beggars in sacks
Knockkneed and cursing or coughing like hags
Men marched on sleeping some without boots
Fatigue drunken deaf still to the hoots
Of breaking gas shells
Dropping softly behind
But limped on bloodshod
All went lame all went blind
Gas gas quick boys fumbling helmets in time
Someone still screaming a man in fire or lime
Under a grey cloud dim dark through green light
In all my dreaming before my helpless sight
He plunges at me
Choking guttering drowning
Put in a wagon he had to keep pace
As his eyes melt to his face
If you could hear blood
Gurgling from ruptured lungs
If you could witness
Vile sores on innocent tongues
You would not tell me
Not with such pride and such zest
The lies of history
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori
Some desperate glory
Pro patria mori
As witness disturbs the story
Pro patria mori
Stand firm boys breathe the glory
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Dulce et Decorum Est
1 Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
2 Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
3 Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs,
4 And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
5 Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
6 But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
7 Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
8 Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
9 Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!--An ecstasy of fumbling
10 Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
11 But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
12 And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.--
13 Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
14 As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
15 In all my dreams before my helpless sight
16 He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
17 If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
18 Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
19 And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
20 His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
21 If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
22 Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
23 Bitter as the cud
24 Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
25 My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
26 To children ardent for some desperate glory,
27 The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
28 Pro patria mori.
poem by Wilfred Owen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pro Patria Mori
World War 1 Soldier Tailem Bend by Illawarrian
Pro patria mori
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
For generations
we've sold these goods
to young boys
who burn for glory.
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Indeed, how sweet,
Pray tell
Poppy covered warrior.
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
How sweet was the Somme?
Such little ground
was gained with
half a generation gone.
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
When weapons
far outpace the men
what an empty word
is glory.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dulce Et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori
In 'Dulce Decorum Est' grim realities has Owen told?
Images he witness bore cut into nerve retina of eyeballs?
“Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots.
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five Nines that dropped behind.”
Wilfred was a conscientious objector, who never believed
in war. Owen believed he had no right to protest against war,
if he had never fought in it. Wilfred wrote realistic anti-war
poems. “Dulce et Decorum Est” is a protest against war.
The lie “Dulce et Decorum Est pro patria mori” Owen denounces
declaring it is not sweet and honourable to die for your country.
Stark grim dark is contrast between false lie and truth reality
powerfully in an account of friend dying soldier demonstrated
Symptoms of chlorine or phosgene gas are correctly described
The 'misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw
him drowning' are accurate descriptions of poison gas covering battlefield Owen haunted by agony memory horrific deaths declares 'In all my dreams
before my helpless sight He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning' attests. Words 'gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs describes, gassed lungs filled with fluid, producing similar effects, as when a person drowns
in water. ‘Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! An ecstasy of fumbling’ intones
instant cinematic descriptive reality, suddenly reader you must bear witness, to secret scientific weapons research horrors humankinds worst deeds
“If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin,
If you could hear at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs (Owen declares)
My friend, you would not tell with such zest
The old lie: Dulce et Decorum Est pro patria mori”
because it is not sweet nor honourable to die such deaths
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I saw men
I saw men wetting their pants
when the first bullets fly past them
in their first contact with the enemy
and I saw men,
shot out of their military boots
and lying broken and covered with blood.
I saw men burnt to ashes
by white phosphorous
in a shot out Ratel IFV
and I saw men
left limbless by landmines.
I saw men making the best
of what life dealt them
and fighting to survive
against the odds
and gaining victory,
against a outnumbering foe
and still believing the old lie:
Dulce et decorum est
pro patria mori
[References: Dulce et decorum est by Wilfred Owen. Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.=> 'It is sweet and right to die for the homeland”]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Price Of War
Their mangled and broken bodies
return home in flag draped caskets.
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori
while a band plays patriotic
hymns for their services rendered
and a choir to give them a voice.
If I may be so bold to say
that I see no sweetness in death
nor the acclaimed gloriousness
that lyrical poets have penned.
what I see is sugarcoated
rationale for warmongering
dolts. I see no glory in that.
Mortem est pretium bellum.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who Shall Rule This American Nation?
Who shall rule this American Nation?
Say, boys, say!
Who shall sit in the loftiest station?
Say, boys, say!
Shall the men who trampled on the banner?
They who now their country would betray?
They who murder the innocent freedmen?
Say, boys, say!
"No, never! no, never!"
The loyal millions say;
And 'tis they who rule this American Nation!
They, boys, they!
Who shall rank as the family royal?
Say, boys, say!
If not those who are honest and loyal?
Say, boys, say!
Then shall one elected as our servant,
In his pride, assume a regal sway?
Must we bend to a human Dictator?
Say, boys, say!
Shall we tarnish our national glory?
Say, boys, say!
Blot one line from the wonderful story?
Say, boys, say!
Did we vainly shed our blood in battle?
Did our troops resultless win the day?
Was our time and our treasure all squander'd?
Say, boys, say!
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Wild Boys
Wild boys, wild boys, wild boys
Wild boys
Wild! (wild)
Boys! (boys)
The wild boys are calling on their way back from the fire
In august moons surrender to a dust cloud on the rise
Wild boys fallen far from glory, reckless and so hungered
On the razors edge you trail because theres murder (murder)
By the roadside in a sore afraid new world
They tried to break us, looks like theyll try again
Wild boys.. never lose it
Wild boys.. never chose this way
Wild boys.. never close your eyes
Wild boys.. always shine
You got sirens for a welcome, theres bloodstain for your pain
And your telephone been ringing while youre dancing in the rain
Wild boys wonder where is glory where is all you angels
Now the figureheads have fell?
And lovers war with arrows over secrets they could tell
They tried to tame you, looks like theyll try again
(chorus)
-
(chorus) (chorus) (chorus)
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Witness
I saw an ant devour sherman mountain.
Slip across the floor in the river of honey.
I saw the locust drinking from a fountain.
It smiled at me as I paid my money.
Chorus
Caus Im a witness, witness, see the writing on the wall.
Im a witness, witness, I say Ive seen it all.
Caus Im a witness, witness, Ive got all the proof.
Im a witness, witness, I swear to tell the truth.
I saw her buying in the face of fashion.
Wholl believe with her little white lies.
I saw her arrive on my bed of passion.
But I never saw a look of love in her eyes.
Chorus
Some days my eyes can see for miles and miles around.
Some nights my dreams just take me deep underground.
My minds a time machine, Im in the future and the past.
The past... scrape away...
(violin solo)
Chorus
Chorus
Witness, witness, witness
Witness, witness, witness
Witness, witness, witness
Witness, witness, witness
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The way I create music is maybe like a painting, to compose in a more visual way. Basically it's the music that I want to hear- that's my inspiration and bottom line. I just try to get ideas from books, movies, paintings.
I've done some music for films and I really enjoy doing it.
Oxford: Armistice Day
‘Died some pro patria non dulce non et decor.’
So Ezra Pound adapted Horace’s lines
for those whose sufferings for their nation
had bred a dull, dark, painful generation
with gloria cauterised from their minds.
In the calendar their deaths are still recorded.
Poppies and medals and uniforms are worn.
Services are held and sacrifices lauded.
Public concern and private grief are borne.
On a cold November day.
In a cold November wind.
In Oxford 1993,
in remembrance of their sufferings and trials,
cars are towed untidily from St. Giles
and scattered without symmetry in surrounding streets.
To protect old rememberers
from new bombs.
This is the point where past and present meet.
Cadets march tidily down George Street,
to run the gauntlet of upper windows,
from which insults are scattered
like intellectual litter:
‘What a lot! What do you look like? ’
Hard and bitter.
This is the recompense the present shows,
as they turn and turn about,
from windows set in golden stone in upper storeys,
which had been saved, no doubt,
pro patria (sed cum dolore)
by those who fell in thousands,
cast like human litter,
broken and bitter,
upon the dying fields of Flanders.
What they
fell for then
is out of fashion.
They too are not protected
from jibes and slanders;
and their spirits are blown
down Broad Street, past Martyrs’ Memorial
(which commemorates others who died for a faith
which is also out of fashion) .
Stripped of their glory, all
like transcendental dust,
seeking a refuge
among the Just.
poem by Brian Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Armistice Day
‘Died some pro patria non dulce non et decor.'
So Ezra Pound adapted Horace's lines
for those whose sufferings for their nation
had bred a dull, dark, painful generation
with gloria cauterised from their minds.
In the calendar their deaths are still recorded.
Poppies and medals and uniforms are worn.
Services are held and sacrifices lauded.
Public concern and private grief are borne.
On a cold November day.
In a cold November wind.
In Oxford 1993,
in remembrance of their sufferings and trials,
cars are towed untidily from St. Giles
and scattered without symmetry in surrounding streets.
To protect old rememberers
from new bombs.
This is the point where past and present meet.
Cadets march tidily down George Street,
to run the gauntlet of upper windows,
from which insults are scattered
like intellectual litter:
‘What a lot! What do you look like? '
Hard and bitter.
This is the recompense the present shows,
as they turn and turn about,
from windows set in golden stone in upper storeys,
which had been saved, no doubt,
pro patria (sed cum dolore)
by those who fell in thousands,
cast like human litter,
broken and bitter,
upon the dying fields of Flanders.
What they
fell for then
is out of fashion.
They too are not protected
from jibes and slanders;
and their spirits are blown
down Broad Street, past Martyrs' Memorial
(which commemorates others who died for a faith
which is also out of fashion) .
Stripped of their glory, all
like transcendental dust,
seeking a refuge
among the Just.
poem by Brian Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sweet and fitting it is to die for the fatherland.
Wilfred Owen in Poem: Dulce et Decorum est
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Can I Get A Witness
Can I get a witness
Maybe you got faith
In where this is going
Maybe Ill pull up the stakes
And Ill be letting go
I could not believe
I could not believe
Can I get a witness, witness x3
You know a lot of times I think how big
And I feel lost on the zag zig now
I could not believe
I could not believe
Can I get a witness, witness x3
And some of these people are just so lame
I dont feel like a pupil
Just a loser on a game show
I just cant believe it
No, I cant believe it
Can I get a witness, witness x3
Im rooting for you
And I toasted when I heard about you
And how you got a witness
A citizen maybe in another place
Here comes the wind
Im a chaser
Its time to leave
Here comes
Its time to leave
Can I get a witness, witness (repeat)
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Death n Glory Boys
(ian hunter)
Get your son - young n dumb
Give him a gun - make him run
Hot stuff - on a saturday night
Wait a minute - this aint right
Its that same old story
Talkin bout the death n glory boys
When your head is on the scaffold
n your ass is on the line
You gotta give it that old religion
One mo time
Get the death n glory boys
Midnight - no light
Cool sand - like mud in my hands
Got this feelin - in my hair
Whats that movin - I aint a scared
Its that same old story
Freak out with the death n glory boys
When its down to stealing apples
n you been doin time
They can buy the hero in you
For a dime
Youre a death n glory boy
Youd better pack up your troubles
In your old kit bag
Say goodbye to your mother
Shes the only friend you have
Long live the leaders
Long may they reign
May they live long enough
To feel every single pain
They dont care about the widows
They dont give no reasons why
They just keep on making medals
You can buy
From the death n glory boys
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Shepherd’s Brow, Fronting Forked Lightning, Owns
The shepherd's brow, fronting forked lightning, owns
The horror and the havoc and the glory
Of it. Angels fall, they are towers, from heaven—a story
Of just, majestical, and giant groans.
But man—we, scaffold of score brittle bones;
Who breathe, from groundlong babyhood to hoary
Age gasp; whose breath is our memento mori—
What bass is our viol for tragic tones?
He! Hand to mouth he lives, and voids with shame;
And, blazoned in however bold the name,
Man Jack the man is, just; his mate a hussy.
And I that die these deaths, that feed this flame,
That … in smooth spoons spy life’s masque mirrored: tame
My tempests there, my fire and fever fussy.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Anthem For Doomed Youth
[ music: john lombardo/lyric: john lombardo adapts wilfred owen ]
For whom the bells toll
When sentenced to die
The stuttering rifles
Will stifle the cry
The monstrous anger
The fears rapid rattle
A desert inferno
Kids dying like cattle
Dont tell me
Were not prepared
Ive seen todays marine
Hes eighteen and hes eager
He can be quite mean
No mockries for them
No prayers or bells
The demented choirs
The wailing of shells
The boys holding candles
On untraveled roads
The fear spreads like fire
As shrapnel explodes
I think its wrong
To conscript our youth
Against their will
When plenty of our citizenry
Really like to kill
What sign posts will lead
To armageddons fires
What bugles will call them
From crowded grey shires
The women sit quiet
With death on their minds
A slow dusk descending
The drawing of blinds
Make the hunters all line up
Its their idea of fun
And let those be forgiven
Who never owned a gun
Was it him or me
Or the wailing of the dead
The laughing soldiers
Cast their lots
And you can cut the dread
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Because it's dance music, you can't really have a lot of changing in there. It's really not for me because there's too much repetition. I like more diversity.
Can I Get A Witness
(b. holland / l. dozier / e. holland)
Ah, listen everybody
Especially you guys
Is it right to be left alone
When the one you love is never home?
I love too hard
Yeah, my friends sometimes say
But I believe, oh I believe
That a boy should be loved that way
But it hurts me so inside
See him treat me so unkind
A-somebody, a-somewhere
Tell him it aint fair
Can I get a witness?
Can I get a witness?
Can I get a witness?
Somebody?
Is it right to be treated so bad?
When youve given everything you had
Keep on tossing in my sleep
cause I havent seen my baby all week
Now, you people you do agree
That this aint the way loves supposed to be
A-let me hear you
Let me hear you say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Up early in the morning
With him on my mind
Just to find out all night
That Ive been crying
But I believe, oh, that a boy is a girls best friend
So, Im gonna stick by him til the very end
But he caused so much misery
I forget how loves supposed to be
Somebody, somewhere tell him
It aint fair
Can I get a witness?
Can I get a witness?
I want a witness
Witness, witness, witness, witness
Everybody knows, especially you boys
That a love can be sad
But half a love is twice as bad
Now you people you do agree
That this aint the way loves supposed to be
Let me hear you
Let me hear you say yeah, yeah, yeah
I want a witness
Can I get a witness?
I want a witness
Come on, witness
I want a witness, hey
Come on, witness
I want a witness
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!