Related quotes: When we might make with...

The Monster

When we might make with happy heart
This world a paradise,
With bombs we blast brave men apart,
With napalm carbonize.
Where we might till the sunny soil,
And sing for joy of life,
We spend our treasure and our toil
In bloody strife.

The fields of wheat are sheening gold,
The flocks have silver fleece;
The signs are sweetly manifold
Of plenty, praise and peace.
Yet see! The sky is like a cowl
Where grimy toilers bore
The shards of steel that feed the foul
Red maw of War.

Instead of butter give us guns;
Instead of sugur, shells.
Devoted mothers, bear your sons
To glut still hotter hells.
Alas! When will mad mankind wake
To banish evermore,
And damn for God in Heaven's sake
Mass Murder--WAR?

poem by Robert William Service
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The Mediator

O Christ, true Son of God most high,
Thy name we praise for ever;
Whoe'er to Thee for help doth cry
Shall find Thee fail him never;
'Tis Thou wilt plead,
Thou intercede
With God, for us who need Thy prayers so sore:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!

To Thee the Father giveth now
All power in earth and heaven;
Sin, Satan, Death to Thee must bow,
All fetters Thou hast riven,
Bade fear to cease,
And made our peace,
That now to God we dare our hearts outpour:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!

Fulness of grace is in Thy Word;
The Life, the Truth, the Way
To life eternal art Thou, Lord;
To Thee alone we pray,
Who didst appear
A servant here
To bear the sin that crushed the world before:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!

poem by Hans Sachs
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Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder” (The Billion-Dollar Question)

We must all stay aware…..,
Of the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder….,
It’s been increasing for years….,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !

Can’t dare turn our backs….,
On the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
It’ll sneak up and kill us…,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !

It’s hard to believe and conceive….
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
That’s why so many are blind….,
To the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder …! ! !

We’ve seen the bloody attacks…..,
Of the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
So we must face the facts….,
On the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !

Yes they’re after us all…,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
Their radical religion condones it….,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !

Can we control it or stop it….,
So it won’t go any further….? ? ?
That’s the billion-dollar question….,
On the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder …! ! !

poem by Trade Martin
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Sonnet: Parables of Jesus: Grain of Wheat

Unless a grain of wheat is sown in soil,
And dies, decays, transforms, gets life anew,
And sprouts into a sapling through one's toil,
It cannot grow to bear fruits that are due!

The grain of wheat remains as such, if not:
Like selfish men who will not do God's will;
Serve God usefully, they simply cannot,
Nor granary at harvest-time, they fill.

Like grain of wheat, men have God's will to do;
Like Jesus, they must carry cross till death;
Like Saviour Christ, they will resurrect too,
And fulfill purpose for which God gave birth!

But Christ died on the cross for mankind's sins,
And love of man, and Father's obeisance!

poem by John Celes
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A Curse for Kings

A curse upon each king who leads his state,
No matter what his plea, to this foul game,
And may it end his wicked dynasty,
And may he die in exile and black shame.

If there is vengeance in the Heaven of Heavens,
What punishment could Heaven devise for these
Who fill the rivers of the world with dead,
And turn their murderers loose on all the seas!

Put back the clock of time a thousand years,
And make our Europe, once the world's proud Queen,
A shrieking strumpet, furious fratricide,
Eater of entrails, wallowing obscene

In pits where millions foam and rave and bark,
Mad dogs and idiots, thrice drunk with strife;
While Science towers above;--a witch, red-winged:
Science we looked to for the light of life,

Curse me the men who make and sell iron ships
Who walk the floor in thought, that they may find
Each powder prompt, each steel with fearful edge,
Each deadliest device against mankind.

Curse me the sleek lords with their plumes and spurs,
May Heaven give their land to peasant spades,
Give them the brand of Cain, for their pride's sake,
And felon's stripes for medals and for braids.

Curse me the fiddling, twiddling diplomats,
Haggling here, plotting and hatching there,
Who make the kind world but their game of cards,
Till millions die at turning of a hair.

What punishment will Heaven devise for these
Who win by others' sweat and hardihood,
Who make men into stinking vultures' meat,
Saying to evil still "Be thou my good"?

Ah, he who starts a million souls toward death
Should burn in utmost hell a million years!
--Mothers of men go on the destined wrack
To give them life, with anguish and with tears:--

Are all those childbed sorrows sneered away?
Yea, fools laugh at the humble christenings,
And cradle-joys are mocked of the fat lords:
These mothers' sons made dead men for the Kings!

All in the name of this or that grim flag,
No angel-flags in all the rag-array--
Banners the demons love, and all Hell sings
And plays wild harps. Those flags march forth to-day!

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Farewell

Not soon shall I forget--a sheet
Of golden water, cold and sweet,
The young moon with her head in veils
Of silver, and the nightingales.

A wain of hay came up the lane--
O fields I shall not walk again,
And trees I shall not see, so still
Against a sky of daffodil!

Fields where my happy heart had rest,
And where my heart was heaviest,
I shall remember them at peace
Drenched in moon-silver like a fleece.

The golden water sweet and cold,
The moon of silver and of gold,
The dew upon the gray grass-spears,
I shall remember them with tears.

poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Songs of the Lathes

The fans and the beltings they roar round me.
The power is shaking the floor round me
Till the lathes pick up their duty and the midnight-shift takes over.
It is good for me to be here!

Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a man that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders! Feeds the guns!

The cranes and the carriers they boom over me,
The bays and the galleries they loom over me,
With their quarter-mile of pillars growing little in the distance--
It is good for me to be here!

The Zeppelins and Gothas they raid over us.
Our lights give warning, and fade over us.
(Seven thousand women keeping quiet in the darkness!)
Oh, it's good for me to be here.

The roofs and the buildings they grow round me,
Eating up the fields I used to know round me;
And the shed that I began in is a sub-inspector's office--
So long have I been here!

I've seen six hundred mornings make our lamps grow dim,
Through the bit that isn't painted round our sky-light rim,
And the sunshine through the window slope according to the seasons,
Twice since I've been here.

The trains on the sidings they call to us
With the hundred thousand blanks that they haul to us;
And we send 'em what we've finished, and they take it where it's wanted,
For that is why we are here!

Man's hate passes as his love will pass.
God made Woman what she always was.
Them that bear the burden they will never grant forgiveness
So long as they are here!

Once I was a woman, but that's by with me.
All I loved and looked for, it must die with me;
But the Lord has left me over for a servant of the Judgment,
And I serve His Judgments here!

Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a son that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders! Feeds the guns!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Art For Arts Sake

Gimme your body
Gimme your mind
Open your heart
Pull down the blind
Gimme your love gimme it all
Gimme in the kitchen gimme in the hall
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Gimme the readys
Gimme the cash
Gimme a bullet
Gimme a smash
Gimme a silver gimme a gold
Make it a million for when I get old
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Money talks so listen to it
Money talks to me
Anyone can understand it
Money cant be beat oh no
When you get down, down to the root
Dont give a damn dont give a hoot
Still gotta keep makin the loot
Chauffeur driven
Gotta make her quick as you can
Give her lovin make you a man
Get her in the palm of your hand
Bread from heaven
Gimme a country
Where I can be free
Dont need the unions
Strangling me
Keep me in exile the rest of my days
Burn me in hell but as long as it pays
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake

song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Now Jerusalem, Song of Mary the Mother of Christ (London: E. Allde)

HIERUSALEM, my happy home,
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end,
Thy joys when shall I see?

O happy harbour of the Saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow may be found,
No grief, no care, no toil.

There lust and lucre cannot dwell,
There envy bears no sway;
There is no hunger, heat, nor cold,
But pleasure every way.

Thy walls are made of precious stones,
Thy bulwarks diamonds square;
Thy gates are of right orient pearl,
Exceeding rich and rare.

Thy turrets and thy pinnacles
With carbuncles do shine;
Thy very streets are paved with gold,
Surpassing clear and fine.

Ah, my sweet home, Hierusalem,
Would God I were in thee!
Would God my woes were at an end,
Thy joys that I might see!

Thy gardens and thy gallant walks
Continually are green;
There grows such sweet and pleasant flowers
As nowhere else are seen.

Quite through the streets, with silver sound,
The flood of Life doth flow;
Upon whose banks on every side
The wood of Life doth grow.

There trees for evermore bear fruit,
And evermore do spring;
There evermore the angels sit,
And evermore do sing.

Our Lady sings Magnificat
With tones surpassing sweet;
And all the virgins bear their part,
Sitting about her feet.

Hierusalem, my happy home,
Would God I were in thee!
Would God my woes were at an end,
Thy joys that I might see!

poem by Anonymous
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A National Song For Australia Felix

Dark over the face of Nature sublime!
Reign'd tyranny, warfare, and every crime;
The world a desert—no oasis green
A man-loving soul on its surface had seen;
Then mercy above a mandate sent forth
An Eden to form—a refuge for worth.
From the ocean it came, with halo so bright,
Want, strife, and oppression were lost in its sight.

Chorus
First isle of the sea—brightest gem of the earth
In thee every virtue and joy shall have birth.
A land of the just, the brave, and the free,
Australia the happy, thou ever shalt be.

So earth in the flood no place for rest gave,
At length a green isle arose from the wave;
The dove o'er the waters the olive branch bore,
To show that one spot was cover'd no more;

Australia thus shall be sounded by fame,
And Europe shall echo the glorious name;
The brave, wise, and good, wherever oppress'd,
Shall fly to thy shores as a haven of rest.

Chorus: First isle of the sea, &c.

Land of the orange, fig, olive, and vine;
'Midst earth's fairest daughters the chaplet is thine;
No sick'ning vapours are borne on thy air,
But fragrance and melody twine sweetly there;
Thy ever-green fields proclaim plenty and peace,
If man doth his part, heaven sends the increase;
No customs to fetter, no enemy near,
Independence thy sons for ever must cheer.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Mothers Always Want Theirs Sons To Be Happy

mothers always want their sons to be happy
and so even if they marry someone
whom their fathers dislike
it is always them who settle for a compromise
and tell fathers to be flexible sometimes
not to hurt the hearts of sons

but sometimes when sons want something else
that only mothers understand
something that fathers cannot really compromise
mothers still compromise
and walk a mile farther
just to make their sons happy
and their sons leave them
to places that only mothers
by their loving hearts
know.

only mothers, yes only mothers,
and no one else.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If I Could Make The World Dance

Ba-da, ba-da (whoa)
Ba-da, ba-da (whoa)
Ba-da, ba-da (whoa)
Bu-da (you)
Bu-da, bu-da (whoa)
Bu-da, bu-da (whoa)
Bu-da, bu-da (whoa) (you)
Signs and wonders that the television shows (whoa)
Hate and poverty for the more, lets me know (you... you)
That life is a stage and we're all in the show (you, you)
Starring the World, 'cause we all glow
(Heaven I'm calling, heaven I'm calling)
If we just give each other a chance
(Heaven I'm calling, heaven I'm calling)
We might just fall in love
Picture us (in a land)
Where there's no more (no more war)
Shaking hands with my (brother)
And respecting my, my, my (my sisters)
(I'm offering) a dance that heals (ooh)
(A melody) you can feel (ooh)
Love is the key (whoa)
All it takes is you and me (whoa, yeah)
If I could make the world dance (whoa if I could make them dance)
Then they would dance (dance) something like this (like, whoa)
If I could make the world groove (whoa if I could make them groove)
Then they would groove something like this (doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo)
If I could make the world sing (whoa if I could make them sing)
Then they would sing something like this
If I could make the world love (if I could make them love, if I could make the love one another)
Then it would feel something like this (yeah)
Tell me why can't more hungry people overcome (why?)
When they've got the means to build bombs, yeah (oh)
We're so quick to say God Bless America (da-da-da-da)
But take away In God We Trust (da-da-da-da)
Tell me what the hell is wrong with us?
(Heaven I'm calling, heaven I'm calling)
If we just give each other a chance then
(Heaven I'm calling, heaven I'm calling)
We might just fall in love
Picture us (in a land)
Where there's no more (no more war)
Shaking hands with my (brothers)
And respecting my, my, my (sisters)
I'm offering (I'm offering) a dance that heals
(A melody) you can feel
Love is the key
All it takes is you and me (whoa, yeah)
If I could make the world dance (whoa if I could make them dance)
Then they would dance (dance yeah) something like this (if I, oh)
If I could make the world groove (whoa if I could make them groove)
Then they would groove something like this (too-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo)
If I could make the world sing (whoa if I could make them sing)
Then they would sing something like this (whoa if I could make the world)
If I could make the world love I would make them love
Then it would feel something like this (yeah)
Happy people baby
Dance with me mama (come on)
Dance with me mama (yeah)
Dance with me mama (oh)
Dance with me mama (come on and)
Dance with me mama (dance with me)
Dance with me mama (oh)
Dance with me mama (come on)
Dance with me mama
Dance with me mama
Dance with me mama (whoa)
Dance with me mama (come on)
Dance with me mama (dance)
People (there's got to be) there's got to be
(A place we can go) a place that we can go
And dance out the day
So meet me at the
Spot that we used to go
And just step the night away
Please let's just rewind time
And go back because I miss those days
If I could make the world dance (whoa if I could make them dance)
Then they would dance (dance) something like this (yeah)
If I could make the world groove (whoa if I could make them groove)
Then they would groove something like this
If I could make the world sing (whoa if I could make them sing)
Then they would sing just like this (if I could)
If I could make 'em love (I surely would, I surely would) then I would make 'em love one another
Then it would feel something like this, ohh
If I could make the world (if I)
If I could make the world (could make)
If I could make the world (the world)
If I could make the world (I) (oh if I)
If I could make the world (I) (oh if I)
If I could make the world (could make) (ohh)
If I could make the world (the world)
If I could make the world (if I could make the world)
If I could make the world (if I)
If I could make the world (could make)
Chocolate Factory
If I could make the world dance
I truly would
Marvin Gaye inspired me to write that one y'all
Just as Frankie Beverley inspired me to write 'Love Street'
You know every day is a special occasion y'all
You know why? 'Cause you woke up this morning
Happy People baby

song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thou Dost Not Know

Thou dost not know it! but to hear
One word of praise from thee,
There is no pain I would not bear,
No task too great for me.

My hands could tireless toil all day,
My feet could tireless run,
If at the close thy lips would say,
'Brave, noble heart, well done.'

* * * * *

Thou dost not know it! but to win
Approval from thine eyes,
My soul has conquered many a sin,
And conquering neared the skies.

And though the reward may not be given,
In all my earthly days,
I feel that after death, in heaven,
Thy lips will give me praise.

* * * * *

Thou dost not know, may never know,
That all I strive to be,
All things praiseworthy that I do,
I strive, and do, for thee.

And though I seldom see thy face,
Or touch thy hand, my friend,
Those meetings are the means of grace,
That help me to the end.

* * * * *

Thou dost not know that thy grand life
Has been my beacon light.
I aim to conquer in the strife,
That I may reach thy height.

I strive to live, so that my feet
May walk the fields most fair,
For the after-life, seems, oh! so sweet,
Because thou wilt be there.

* * * * *

Thou dost not know how brave and strong
A woman's heart can be.
But few could hide so well and long
What mine has hid from thee.

So well, that should this idyl chance
To meet thine eye, my friend,
Thou'd scan it with a careless glance,
Nor dream to whom 'twas penned.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Sing Your Praise To The Lord

Sing your praise to the lord,
Come on everybody,
Stand up and sing...one more
Hallelujah,
Give your praise to the lord,
I can never tell you,
Just how much good...that its
Gonna do ya
Just to sing...anew...
The song your heart first learned to sing when he
First gave his life...to you...
The life goes on and so must the song,
You gotta sing...again...
The song born in your soul when you
First gave your heart...to him...
Sing his praises, once more
Sing your praise to the lord,
Come on everybody,
Stand up and sing...one more
Hallelujah,
Give your praise to the lord,
I can never tell you,
Just how much good...that its
Gonna do ya
Just to sing...aloud...
The song that someone is dying to hear
Down in the maddning crowd...
As you once were before your heard the song,
You gotta let them know...
The truth is a life to shine upon the way,
So maybe they...can go...
Sing his praises, once more
Sing your praise to the lord,
Come on everybody,
Stand up and sing...one more
Hallelujah,
Give your praise to the lord,
I can never tell you,
Just how much good...that its
Gonna do ya
Just to let the name of the lord...
Be praise, both for now, and evermore,
Praise him all ye servants,
Give him praise to the lord,
Come on everybody,
Stand up and sing...one more
Hallelujah,
Give your praise to the lord,
I can never tell you,
Just how much good...that its
Gonna do ya
Just to sing, sing sing...
Come on, sing, sing, sing...
I can hear you now, sing, sing, sing...

song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let's Give The World A Chance

tanka:

different gods
different worlds
in the shards of war
i try looking for
one god for peace

free verse poetry;

Let's give peace a chance
Let's go out and dance
Let's wind up our fight
To terminate our plight
Let's give ourselves a chance
Let's let down our hair and dance
To the music of love and peace
Let's not be aliens in our own land
Let's close ranks and be friends
No more war, no more pain
Let's make our mothers happy
Our children smile
And our fathers proud
Let's spread our love to each other
From that purest corner of our heart
Where the Almighty has dwelt
And taught us since the day
He brought us to this world
Let's give him a chance too
To make his revelations to us
Let's us make this earth
a wonderful place for each other
So that our children too
Can be proud of us and partake
in this song
let's give our children a chance
let's give ourselves a chance
le's give allah, jehovah, buddha,
and every god a chance
in our quest for truth, peace

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Ballad: Pope Benedict XVI in US,2008

The Apostle of peace had come:
Pope Benedict by name;
To US, where he was welcome,
With missionary aim.