The Gods Do Not Intervene
The battle between Athens and Sparta lasted a lifetime and more.
Men who ate lentils
Were not interfeared with by any gods,
Said Thucydides,
who is the father of scientific history.
He did not outlive his own battle,
Dying suddenly by an iron sword.
His blood spurted on his pages,
But most were saved. If one reads Greek,
One can smell,
On the pages
Blood and lentils and pointed iron. And read the first truth about the horrors of war.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Curtain Of Iron
The streets of the city are barren
All the windows and doors have been closed
As the night draws near
You can feel their fear
Their freedom is just an illusion
And they tell us that love is a lie
Can it all be true
What can one man do
(Chorus)
See the pages as they turn
Never will the children learn
Born as a prisoner in a curtain of iron
Never will the pages turn
The City of Gold's in the distance
And they've already forgotten their dream
Visions slowly fade
In this land of shade
(Chorus)
As the power grows, darkness spreading
Hope is still alive, though we're dreading
What the future holds, no more need to
Fear what all men face
Only good can win the race
Rumors speak of war, all the nations
Turmoil in the streets, tribulations
Now it's plain to see
All the prophecies are taking place
Only good can win the race
There are fragments of truth still remaining
And they bring them the light of the world
To this hope we cling
Till the bells will ring
See the pages as they turn
In their wisdom we will learn
Our bloody history soon will resolve
See the pages as they turn
In their wisdom we will learn
Free from the prison, a Curtain of Iron
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Power Of Thy Sword
Lord of battle I pray on bended knee conquest by the rising sun
I'll wait for thy command with flame and blood at hand
glory and a broken sword.
I'm the master of the world I have no fear of man or beast
Born inside the soul of the world
Riding hard breaking bone with steel and stone
Eternal might I was born to wield.
Let us drink to the battles we've lived and we've fought
Celebrate the pain and havoc we have wrought
Great heroes charge into the fight
From the north to the south in the black of night
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
Drink to the battles we've lived and we've fought
Celebrate the pain and havoc we have wrought
Great heroes charge into the fight
From the north to the south in the black of night
Fierce is my blade fierce is my hate born to die in battle
I laugh at my fate
Now pay in blood when your blood has been spilled
You're never forgiven death is fulfilled !
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
The clash of honor calls
I will stand when others fall
Open magic doors
The will know the power of my sword
There is blood in my hands there is blood in my eyes
With blood in my voice I scream as you die
Thirsting for vengeance and mounds of the slain
Shaking the forest onto the plain
Fierce is my blade fierce is my hate born to die in battle
I laugh at my fate
Now pay in blood when your blood has been spilled
You're never forgiven death is fulfilled !
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
They will know the power of my sword
song performed by by Manowar from The Triumph Of Steel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blood Red Roses
Blood red
The roses she'd
Always received
Blood red
Blood red
The sole chroma
Of her world
Blood red
Blood red
Spurted out from
His thorn-like barbs
Blood red
Blood red
Her anguished life
Assiduous
Blood red
Blood red
Her favorite
Shade of roses
Blood red
poem by Alice Vedral Rivera
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Written In Blood And Love
In pages written in blood, in pages written love.
Stories are told of you grow old together.
Live to dieing forever.
Scarred by the pain of misery.
Scarred by the imperfections the have created so many rejections.
Give me the antidote to the poison that I have slipped in my own drink.
Let me breath the life in again.
Drowned out all the cowardliness of my angel who holding me up.
Such a beautiful crutch.
Still in the pages written in blood, in the pages written love.
We are just one of millions.
Every story is the same.
All that's changed is the names, places, and faces.
Erase it all.
Rewrite the entire fall.
Let the wind take me.
Let the lightning strike me here and now.
For i will not let it cloud my judgement.
No matter the storm that's brought on.
In the pages written in blood, in the pages written in love
Hate me for the right reasons
Hate me because I am what you wanted me to be.
In all the irony.
I didn't change for you.
It was done way before you came along and sang your song.
All the pages have been written, in blood and love.
The Shakespeare play Romeo and Juliet to the fullest.
Its the cruelest games in tragedy strikes without a ounce of leniency.
No mercy to those who are jumping without a life line.
Protection against the evil of an accident so quick.
A slip becomes a fall.
Next your trying to stall buy a little time.
But its in vain.
Nothing can be changed.
Its sink or swim till you reach shore.
So long off stripped of everything you thought was important.
Values so mixed up in these pages written in blood, in the pages written in love.
We have killed another pair of doves.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The Famous Greek War Song
Sons of the Greeks, arise!
The glorious hour's gone forth,
And, worthy of such ties,
Display who gave us birth.
CHORUS.
Sons of Greeks! let us go
In arms against the foe,
Till their hated blood shall flow
In a river past our feet.
Then manfully despising
The Turkish tyrant's yoke,
Let your country see you rising,
And all her chains are broke.
Brave shades of chiefs and sages,
Behold the coming strife!
Hellenes of past ages,
Oh, start again to life!
At the sound of my trumpet, breaking
Your sleep, oh, loin with me!
And the seven-hill'd city seeking,
Fight, conquer, till we're free.
Sons of Greeks, &c.
Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers
Lethargic dolt thou lie?
Awake, and join thy numbers
With Athens, old ally!
Leonidas recalling,
That chief of ancient song,
Who saved ye once from falling,
The terrible! the strong!
Who made that bold diversion
In old Thermopylæ
And warring with the Persian
To keep his country free;
With his three hundred waging
The battle, long he stood,
And like a lion raging,
Expired in seas of blood.
Sons of Greeks, &c.
song, translated by Byron
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From the pages of History
The blood as I know
Has no colour nor any flavour
Except it's history
That flows through the ages.
Neanderthal or Neolithic men,
Homo sapiens, warriors or peasants...
Nobody knows the chemistry of blood
Except the sharpen swords!
Since my birth I watch
The bloodstained pages of history
Fly over the dark sky......
poem by Braja K Sarkar
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Written In Red!
Pages of history of man kind
Are written red,
Those who thought their blood,
As blue as sky or as blue as deep ocean,
Wrote the pages in Red and every page is full of bloodshed!
Hungry people weep for even glass of water,
And even for that they had blood to shed,
Innocent plants or innocent grass die,
When two elephants fight for supremacy!
They never care how many innocent may die!
Great heroes are made on the number of men they despatch to hell,
Saying patriots have heaven in their fight!
They are heroes like matadors at the cost of blood of an innocent bull!
Otherwise they are as you and me except that cruelty,
Men the made several men to shed blood, in the name of woman,
May it be sita, may it be Padmini
Or may be Helen of Troy,
All men were treated like toys
By a that a few mad boys,
To have their woman back,
Or defend their action,
All religions have their history written in red,
May it be books that are from God,
Stained with red, God signed it with blood,
Put the rubber stamp of quality with bone and flesh,
Every nation is having its own fountain of blood shed!
power hungry need only to shed crocodile tears,
Or just present awards and reward,
Those who safeguard
and died to save them!
May it be Ashoka, may it be Idi Ameen
or may be Churchil, or may be Gandhi,
Or may Lincoln or Changez Khan
Only they were famous due blood shed!
May it be history of continent or that sub continent
Only a story written in blood, On human skin and with bones as pens!
May it be any ' -ism ' or may
Politics in spain or Britain,
Equally dangerous are these..
Power or woman,
Ambition or nation,
Whether terrorist or counter terrorist venture
Police or politician,
Every history of massive wealth,
Or a piece of land
Religion or culture, blood is That red ink with pages of history is written only in red!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Iron Maiden
Wont you come into my room,
I wanna show you all my wares.
I just want to see your blood,
I just want to stand and stare.
See the blood begin to flow
As it falls upon the floor.
Iron maiden cant be faught,
Iron maiden cant be sought.
Oh well, wherever, wherever you are,
Iron maidens gonna get you, no matter how far.
See the blood flow watching it shed up above my head.
Iron maiden wants you for dead.
Wont you come into my room,
I wanna show you all my wares.
I just want to see your blood,
I just want to stand and stare.
See the blood begin to flow
As it falls upon the floor.
Iron maiden cant be faught,
Iron maiden cant be sought.
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Denomination
A world estranged
Ingrained in uncertainty
As sanctified effigies
Cry tears of blood
When holy men
Rape Nuns to purge
Their desires
Flipping pages to memorize phrases
Of a hundred lesser gods
The foundation
Of denomination
Is confusion
Without resolution
As Parsons seek
Carnal pleasures
From altar boys
Flipping pages to memorize phrases
Of a hundred lesser gods
The eleventh hour
Of the seventh day
Continues the timeless
Partition of the color line
As congregations
Of sheep weave
The fine wool suits
Of well dressed
False Prophets
Flipping pages to memorize phrases
Of a hundred lesser gods
poem by Mikaylah Simone
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To the Reader
As you read, a white bear leisurely
pees, dyeing the snow
saffron,
and as you read, many gods
lie among lianas: eyes of obsidian
are watching the generations of leaves,
and as you read
the sea is turning its dark pages,
turning
its dark pages.
poem by Denise Levertov
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Wing Pages Of The Butterfly
at the nursery
while people
are at purchase
and at transactions
a blue butterfly
comes by
and opens its pages to me
swift and quick
and it says to me:
'Read! Read!
Read my pages! '
'I can’t read, '
I say,
amused
at this brash butterfly
'Read and write!
Read and write
about me,
and all flitting butterflies
Read
and write, you silly! '
it commands
And so I read
and I copy
and these are the words
the words from those
pages
the butterfly
holds up to me
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Blood Of The Kings
Brothers the battle is raging
Choose your side
Sing with us the BATTLE HYMNS
into glory ride
hail to england
the sign of the hammer's our gide
Forever we're fighting the world Side by side
On a crusade
The world we bring
Four Kings of Metal
Four Metal Kings
Death to the false ones
Dance on a string
'Till the blood on your sword is the blood of a king
'Till the blood on your HAND is the blood of a king
Our armies in England
song performed by by Manowar from Kings Of Metal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rags & Old Iron
Norman curtis, oscar brown jr
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
I heard that old rag man now making his rounds
He came right to my alley lord with sorrowful sounds
Crying rags old iron and pulling his cart
Ask him how much hed give me for my broken heart
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
So I asked that old rag man how much he would pay
For a heart that was broken baby when you went away
For a burnt out old love light that no longer beams
And a couple of slightly used second hand dreams
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
For those big empty promises you used to make
For those memories of you that are no longer sweet
I wish he could haul them off down the street
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
When love doesnt last tell me what is it worth
It was once mamas most precious possession on earth
When I asked that old rag man if hed like to buy
He just shook his head and continued to cry
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
Rags old iron rags old iron
Rags old iron rags old iron rags old iron
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everyday I Die
The problems of need
I need you
Obscene dreams in
Rusty beds
No one came here
Tonight
I pulled on me
I need to
I unstick pages and read
I look at pictures of you
I smell the lust in my hands
Everyday I die
Her favorite trick
Was to suck me inside
Oh so very
Art nouveau
Completely false
Feelings of love I dont
No one knows, but that died
Years ago
I unstick pages and read
I look at pictures of you
I smell the lust in my hands
Everyday I die
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Saved
I was blinded by the devil,
Born already ruined,
Stone-cold dead
As I stepped out of the womb.
By his grace I have been touched,
By his word I have been healed,
By his hand Ive been delivered,
By his spirit Ive been sealed.
Ive been saved
By the blood of the lamb,
Saved
By the blood of the lamb,
Saved,
Saved,
And Im so glad.
Yes, Im so glad,
Im so glad,
So glad,
I want to thank you, lord,
I just want to thank you, lord,
Thank you, lord.
By his truth I can be upright,
By his strength I do endure,
By his power Ive been lifted,
In his love I am secure.
He bought me with a price,
Freed me from the pit,
Full of emptiness and wrath
And the fire that burns in it.
Ive been saved
By the blood of the lamb,
Saved
By the blood of the lamb,
Saved,
Saved,
And Im so glad.
Yes, Im so glad,
Im so glad,
So glad,
I want to thank you, lord,
I just want to thank you, lord,
Thank you, lord.
Nobody to rescue me,
Nobody would dare,
I was going down for the last time,
But by his mercy Ive been spared.
Not by works,
But by faith in him who called,
For so long Ive been hindered,
For so long Ive been stalled.
Ive been saved
By the blood of the lamb,
Saved
By the blood of the lamb,
Saved,
Saved,
And Im so glad.
Yes, Im so glad, Im so glad,
So glad, I want to thank you, lord,
I just want to thank you, lord,
Thank you, lord.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yad Mordechai
Yad Mordechai. Those who fell here
still look out the windows like sick children
who are not allowed outside to play.
And on the hillside, the battle is reenacted
for the benefit of hikers and tourists. Soldiers of thin sheet iron
rise and fall and rise again. Sheet iron dead and a sheet iron life
and the voices all—sheet iron. And the resurrection of the dead,
sheet iron that clangs and clangs.
And I said to myself: Everyone is attached to his own lament
as to a parachute. Slowly he descends and slowly hovers
until he touches the hard place.
Translated by Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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Every Day I Die (reworked By Andy Gray)
Gary Numan's Tubeway Army
"Everyday I Die".
problems of need i need you
obscene dreams in rusty beds
no one came here tonight
i pulled on me i need to
i unstick pages and read
i look at pictures of you
i smell the lust in my hands
everyday i die
her favorite trick was to suck me inside
oh so very art nouveau
completely false feelings of love i don't
no one knows but that died years ago
i unstick pages and read
i look at pictures of you
i smell the lust in my hands
everyday i die
die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
remember that the french term for "orgasm" translates to "the little death".
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Books
The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges
Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn
poem by Erica Jong
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You Are Immortal
You are immortal;
When you are in touch with the,
non-physical, elements of yourselves.
How will you handle Gaia’s transition?
You will do this by working with her Goddess Alchemy.
Your body knows the connection between the iron,
in your blood and the iron core of Gaia.
Human blood is an archive of the Cosmos.
That is why evil men spill our precious fluid,
through violence. They want from us,
what they do not see in themselves.
Now is the time to go deeply into your blood,
which is the very source of your individuality.
As you move deeper into awakening,
your blood gets extremely activated.
This is happening now,
as great events are developing.
Our blood is instrumental in processing,
individual and collective karma.
This is painful yet rewarding.
Be warned brethren;
Remove your bodies and consciousness
from all situations that are violent,
except situations where you can act to calm violence.
Look within, not without for immortality…
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Unrecorded history. storypoem
I camped below a rocky tor.
Although I'd not been there before
It felt somehow familiar.
I did not want to drive too far.
I had been late in starting out
And I had too much about.
The Dartmoor fog which frequently.
Descended very suddenly.
Reducing visibility
To almost nil immediately.
I thought it wise to stay the night
and make a start by broad daylight.
I had chosen to drive this way.
Because I was on holiday.
A chance to see new scenery
I have no one to please but me.
I had prepared a picnic meal.
I sat and ate behind the wheel.
The mist descended quietly
and hid the rocky tor from me.
It formed a blanket thick and white
Which softly glowed in the moonlight.
It could have been a movie screen
And formed a backdropp to a scene.
A scene I never thought to see.
A piece of living history.
I watched a battle being fought
With iron weapons crudely wrought.
But still they killed the enemies
They fought with great ferocity
I saw men kill, I saw men die.
Beneath a blue and cloudless sky.
I know they fought long, long ago
But just how long I do not know.
It might have been the iron age.
I do not know enough to gauge.
Who they were by how they dressed.
The battle held my interest.
Because the sheer brutality.
Which somehow I was allowed to see.
Projected on a misty screen.
Was it real: It might have been
Or did I fall asleep and dream.
Quite possible so it would seem.
To those inclined to disbelieve.
And think I am trying to deceive.
Perhaps because they're frightened to
Accept that it just might be true.
I don't pretend to understand,
Why this barren piece of land
Which lay below the rock tor
Men thought it well worth dying for.
But this is now and that was then.
Perhaps it's time to think again.
I cannot see the world they saw
The land they thought worth fighting for.
It's probable I'll never know.
Why this battle long ago.
Was repeated apparently
Somehow especially for me.
It was a strange experience
Which goes against my common sense.
A tale I very rarely tell.
Dartmoor keeps it secrets well.
Friday,21 September 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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