Own hate - hate growN
Spasms of freedom, build into a gun - Fighting for the land belonging to your father, and his fathers father, yet killed when the field was seized - Daughters without fathers, sons with far less brothers, debt by death to the dictators - The rulers of decay, their way, they know only one way - The war brought forth, the one too civil, against the people of your country - Own hate, hate growN - The land, by which you are to weak, alone to stand - The have to believe, by the suffering of the innocent, the sadness in sorrow, is peace - By the driven machine, the slaughter house of death, the king of war - Victory By The Blood On Your Hands.
poem by Unic Cjonr
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Related quotes
A War Raging On
There's a war raging on
Though I know not where
There are people fighting
Though they do not care
Soldiers are fighting
Mothers are crying
Fathers are preaching
For their sons are dying,
For their is a war killing
And no one really cares.
There's bullets shooting
As I see the guns loading
And there's planes flying
For I feel the bombs exploding,
I see war and I see blood
And death upon the sand
There's hunger and death
I still see in His hand,
For there's people killing
As I see the blood flowing.
There's soldiers marching
For I hear them coming
The killing is flowing
For I see the children running,
There are people being shot
Poets getting caught
Murderers being sought
Lessons again being taught,
For there is a war raging
As the soldiers are hunting.
There is a war coming
For I hear the horns blowing
There is more killing coming
For I see the hate growing,
Children are getting killed
Burying bombs in the fields
Land is being destroyed
Mountains are becoming hills,
For there is a war coming
For I see the hate showing.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Family of War
Every morning I awake I fall to my knees and pray.
God, please make the war in Iraq come to end.
There are too many fathers and sons come home
in pine boxes. There are too many mothers and daughters
doing the same. Leaving behind fathers and sons mothers
and daughter with a last memory of them waving goodbye.
There is too much blood and tears of fathers and sons mothers
and daughters being shed all in the name of peace.
God please let our leaders see how many families are dying
and that war can never bring peace. Only love can.
This prayer is my gun and God you’re the bullet I’m shooting
to end this Family of War.
I've seen too much hate to want to hate, myself, and every time I see it, I say to myself, hate is too great a burden to bear. Somehow we must be able to stand up against our most bitter opponents and say: "We shall match your capacity to inflict suffering by our capacity to endure suffering. We will meet your physical force with soul force. Do to us what you will and we will still love you.... But be assured that we'll wear you down by our capacity to suffer, and one day we will win our freedom. We will not only win freedom for ourselves; we will appeal to your heart and conscience that we will win you in the process, and our victory will be a double victory".
Martin Luther King in A Christmas Sermon for Peace, December 24, 1967
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father & Son
There is the family photograph
That is your father’s face,
There is your father’s father
Grey-gathering years apace;
The son, bright-eyed in the morning,
The father, lined and drawn,
The son became the father
On the day that you were born.
We’ve all set out on the highway
Our fathers wished us well,
The sons became the fathers
In the same distinctive spell;
The road of all beginnings
Is all there is to lend,
But many a twist, and many a turn
Has marred us at the end.
He was my father’s father,
I am my father’s son,
We’ve travelled as far, and farther
Than our father’s years have run;
The twists and turns of fortune
Mean nothing, lost or won,
But the love of a father’s father,
And the love of a father’s son.
3 September 1977
poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Flag
See the glorious stars and stripes,
Floating over there;
See how gracefully they wave
In the summer air.
We love to see that starry flag,
Wave in peace with ease,
And its colors, red, white and blue,
Unfurled to the breeze.
God grant that flag may ever wave
O'er our native land,
Where sons of freemen are united
In a happy band,
To celebrate the glorious Fourth,
The day we should adore;
Hail each anniversary day,
Now and evermore.
Our fathers fought beneath that flag
In the days of yore,
To gain their freedom from British laws,
Which they could not endure.
The cry was then for liberty,
On land and on sea;
They gained the glorious victory --
Our country now is free.
The land of Columbia's sons,
To-day is filled with joy;
Every heart should beat as one,
In the blessings we enjoy.
We should love our native land,
Where our fathers died,
We should keep the country free --
The early pilgrim's pride.
See the glorious stars and stripes,
Waving over there,
See the starry emblem, friends,
Floating in the air.
Proud it waves o'er our land,
Where it has waved for years,
May every freeman greet that flag
With three rousing cheers.
poem by Julia A Moore
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What You Get
The machines of metal is driven by war, the gears are turning into the most gruesome of fears - Nuclear destruction by the hands of men, over and over, again and again - Bombs which litter the clear blue skies, fatherless children to the innocent which dies - Hate is bred by the lack of respect, the lack of respect is the hate which is bred - Armies of the damned bleeds on the blood soaked sand, burning fires flames on this savage land - Victory is signalled by the bones of the dead, what you read is the lies told, the truth will not be told and will never be said - When blood flows rivers red, death is true and that is what you get
poem by Unic Cjonr
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A World Filled With Hate
This world is filled with hate
Hate against life
Hate against your friends
Hate against your pet
Hate against the rain
Hate against a busdriver
Hate against your teacher
Hate against your parents
Hate against your brothers and sisters
Hate against a difficult game
Hate against your job
Hate against the way you live
Hate against your body
Hate against a withering flower
Hate against a not-working car
Hate against someone hurting you
Hate against a child that doesn't obey
Hate against the cloudy sky
Hate against God
Hate against the death
So much hate in everyone of us
We're filled with it
But only a little dropp of love
In this hate filled world
Could overcome every bit of hate
poem by Angel of Death
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Like any other people, like fathers, mothers, sons and daughters in every land, when the issue of peace or war has been put squarely to the American people, they have registered for peace.
quote by Paul Robeson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Greatest Plague
Hate consumes the people of the world like a
plague that kills. Turn to hate we do in times
where things are wrong in thine eyes. Try to
justify it by calling it what you like but in
the end it all amounts to hate. Someone attacks
the weak we go after them claiming justice but
we allow the anger to lead us away. Sorrow can
leads us to hate without a soul even realizing
it. So hate has the ulitmate power in this world
that call home. Hate is everything that does not
envelop love or happiness. We allow more hate
than love in this land. You can call it what you
like. Spite anger sorrow loss sadness jealousy
pain. They all lead down the road to hatred.
The paths may go in different ways but all in
in the same place. Being there alone without
a person to stand at your side. Without the
happiness and joys of life. You can say that
sorrow loss and sadness are not hate but when
you think about it your sorrow can turn feeling
sorrow for a person can turn to hurting another
you feel anger towards those who would not help.
Loss you blame someone or something for taking
someone away from you. Perhaps your loss can
change into seeking vengence. Sadness how could
it turn you wander but sadness it self it loss
and sorrow. When sad you are easily swayed by
one of great influence good or bad. Hate has
the power to do more to us than one can ever
think or imagine. For those who do no see it
just turn the pages back in time and all shall
be revealed then. Hate is destroying us swiftly
one day at a time. Hate is the worlds greatest
plague.
poem by Jacob Adams
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Anhelli - Chapter 1
Exiles came to the land of Siberia, and having chosen a broad site they built a
wooden house that they might dwell together in concord and brotherly love; and
there were of them about a thousand men of various stations in life.
And the government had provided women for them that they might marry,
because their sentence made known that they were sent to people the country.
For a time there was among them great order and great sorrow,
for they could not forget that they were exiles
and that they should see their fatherland no more-unless God should will it.
And when they had already built the house and each one had taken up his own work,
except the people who desired to be called wise men, who remained in idleness, saying:
'Lo, we ponder on the salvation of the fatherland,' they beheld upon a time a great flock
of black birds flying from the north.
After the birds there appeared a sort of train and caravan,
and sledges harnessed with dogs, and a herd of reindeer with branching horns,
and men on skis bearing spears : it was the whole Siberian people.
At their head, moreover, walked the king of the people, who was at the same time a priest,
dressed according to their custom in furs and in corals,
and he wore a wreath of dead serpents instead of a crown.
Then that ruler, drawing near to the throng of exiles,
said in the language of their own land : 'Hail !
'Behold I have known your fathers who were also unfortunate,
and I have seen how they lived in the fear of God and died, saying `Fatherland ! Fatherland !'
'Therefore do I wish to be your friend and to make a covenant
between you and my people, that ye may be in an hospitable land
and in a country of well-wishers.
'And of your fathers now is none living except one only, who is already old
and who is well-inclined toward me ;
but he dwelleth far hence in a lonely hut.
'If ye desire that the friend of your fathers be your leader,
I will abide with you and forsake my own people;
for ye are the more unfortunate.'
Yet more that old man said, and they showed
him reverence and invited him to their tabernacle.
And they made a covenant with the people of Siberia,
who departed and settled in their snowy villages ;
but their king remained with the exiles that he might comfort them.
And they marvelled at his wisdom, saying
'Lo, this he hath surely gotten from our fathers,
and his words are from our ancestors.'
And they called him Shaman, for so the people of Siberia
call their kings and priests, who are wizards.
poem by Juliusz Slowacki
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Song for norway national hymn
Yes, we love this land that towers
Where the ocean foams;
Rugged, storm-swept, it embowers
Many thousand homes.
Love it, love it, of you thinking,
Father; mother dear,
And that night of saga sinking
Dreamful to us here.
This the land that Harald guarded
With his hero-throng,
This the land that Haakon warded,
Hailed by Eyvind's song.
Olaf here the cross erected,
While his blood he shed;
Sverre's word this land protected
'Gainst the Roman dread.
Peasants whetted axes carried,
Broke th' invader's blow;
Tordenskjold flashed forth and harried,
Lighted home the foe.
Women oft to arms were leaping,
Manlike in their deed;
Others' lot was naught but weeping,
Tears that brought their meed.
Many truly were we never,
But we did suffice,
When in times of testing ever
Worthy was the prize.
For we would the land see burning,
Rather than its fall;
Memory our thoughts is turning
Down to Fredrikshald!
Harder times we bore that tried us
Were cast off in scorn;
In that crisis was beside us
Blue-eyed freedom born.
That gave father-strength for bearing
Famine-need and sword,
Honor death itself outwearing,
And it gave accord.
Far our foe his weapons flinging
Up his visor raised;
We in wonder to him springing
On our brother gazed.
Both by wholesome shame incited
Southward made our way;
Brothers three
, in heart united,
We shall stand for aye!
Men of Norway, high or lowly,
Give to God the praise!
He our land's Defender Holy
In its darkest days!
All our fathers here have striven
And our mothers wept,
Hath the Lord His guidance given,
So our right we kept.
Yes, we love this land that towers
Where the ocean foams;
Rugged, storm-swept, it embowers
Many thousand homes.
As our fathers' conflict gave it
Vict'ry at the end,
Also we, when time shall crave it,
Will its peace defend.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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We Salute You Gallant Sons And Daughters Of The Soil
Gallant sons and daughters of the soil, hail heros, we salute you
for the tremendous and outrageous job you did in restoration of the lost glory and hope, FREEDOM...
We salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soil for putting
your lives at risk and the sacrifise
you made in restoring our legacy,
from our fore fathers.
We salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soils, today we
are enjoying the fruits of your sacrifise and dedication of your
lives just to restore the legacy
heritage and freedom which we
enjoy today....
Freedom was born out of bloodshed of the gallant sons and daughters of the soil, freedom was
born out of the armed struggle, we
salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soil..
We salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soil, thank you
for restoring the glory, heritage
and legacy which had been robbed from us! !
Hail gallant sons and daughters
of the soil, they exchanged freedom with the blood which
the spilt in the process of restoring the lost prestige and glory, heritage..
We salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soil for breaking
down the iron york from our necks granting us solace, you did
all this out of love and loyalty.
We salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soil for the enduarance, dedication you made
in bringing freedom and the lost
heritage, through the wire and many challenges you met, but you
risked your lives to bring freedom..
Today we enjoy the fruits of the
armed struggle which brought freedom, revolution completed
its course we are enjoying the fruits of the armed struggle
we salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soil may your
soul rest in peace
dedication to the gallant sons and
daughters of the soil of zimbabwe who lost their lives in the process of fighting for freedom..
poem by Donald Kuutsi
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I Cry, I Smile
Why do you cry my love?
I cry for the cruelty,
Hatred, anger and slaughter.
I cry for the pain and torture.
I cry for the loss and fear
And darkness.
I cry for you,
And I cry for me.
I cry for our fathers, mothers,
Daughters and sons.
I cry for everyone.
Why do you smile my love?
I smile for the sunshine,
The new day and the gentle rain.
I smile for love and change
And laughter.
I smile for the flowers,
The breeze in the haystack.
I smile for peace,
And joy and calm water.
I smile for you,
And I smile for me.
I smile for our fathers, mothers,
Daughters and sons.
I smile for everyone.
poem by John McAndrew
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My Father Is A Freedom Fighter
Soldier, Soldier, cries the child
My father is a freedom fighter
He is fighting for me and my family
He is giving his life for his home land
The sun rises and falls on him
Our enemies have fallen in numbers as dawn comes
We will be free form our enemies
We will have much to celebrate soon
We don't eat even in the hour of noon
The reason? that our hearts are with father
We will be like him when we grow up
Our land will be at the top
We will earn respect form the on lookers
And as a child, I cry for other fathers
poem by Shelley Cornelius Phillips
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The Tenant
the tenant bought the land
owned by my father and
he comes here behaving
like my father who thought
the land is the only world
where he can portray him
self as a master, ohh,
this is not the case any
more that what you know
i know. The land is gone
and so shall my father be
ohh, i am very happy, the
kind of opression we all
tasted is over now. We
shall rejoice for this loss.
This is freedom and this
is victory. At last i am
free. The curse shall now
be his own, not mine.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Banality of Evil
Wordsmiths preach their rhetoric
Wise in their own eyes
They bleach their conscience
Hail the conquering hero
Sincerity oozes from your brow
Peace, peace they say
When there is no peace
The banality of evil
Death has no sides
Indiscriminate murder rains
Killing Children in their sleep
Casualties of war or slaughter
Death rains down, for freedom?
Sowing the seeds of hate,
Chameleon the bully fades
In the banality of evil
Rabid dogs of war unleashed
Hate begets hate
Violence begets violence
Death begets death
Father forgive our indifference
Rolling news feeds opinion
And reinforces division
The banality of evil
Disguised in global extremism
We seek to justify, the bullet
And the bomb, indifferent
Blind to the fact
Hellfire falls from the skies
Killing children
In the name of freedom
the banality of evil
Divide to rule, and establish
Global government
A breath away, smiling
The snake strikes
Ism’s depose Justice
The alliance of liars lie
Shake hands with the devil
welcome the banality of evil
poem by Adrian Wait
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So Much Hate
Whites against Blacks
Daughters against mothers
Sons against fathers
Brothers against sisters.
Why so much hate?
Where is the love for one another
Where the morals and the guidance?
Where is the unity and peace?
Where is the security and brotherhood?
Where is this nation headed?
When will be united as one family
When will prejudice and racism be erased?
When will neighbor truly love his neighbor?
When will Martin L. King’s dream come true?
It starts with the golden rule,
“Loving others as you love yourself.”
© Eve Hall 9-11-2001
Fathers Are The Men From Sky
Fathers, the men who are like a pen
We never can see whatever is going on inside them
But suddenly that pen is finished and then?
Fathers, the men who try hard for the pleasure of their family
They just want the less for themselves because of the comfort of their children
Looking forward to spend a day with his family in a place that is hilly
Fathers, the men who justify the wishes of their children to their own wishes
They just live to see the victory of their children and family
But their life sometimes is as short as the golden fishes
Fathers, the men who are noble, they leave their tired face out of the house's door
They came in with a happy face, but we know they are tired from inside
We know that they are sad from the core.
Fathers, the men who listen to the pain of family members
People who are powerful to solve the problems and hard conditions
But no one has the ear to understand them; they just talk with the embers
Fathers,
Warm and kind people who never bother
Fathers,
Who are unique in their way, after them there is no tother
Fathers,
Are the men who are like the kind brothers.
poem by Ellias Anderson
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Whose Country Is This?
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of snakes;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of many waters;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of thieves! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of oil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of earthquakes!
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of lovers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of volcanoes!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful flowers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hansome men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of roses;
Whose country is this?
it is a land ruled only by men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land without rainfall;
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by a woman;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of corruption!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pirates! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by law;
Whose country is this?
It is a land controlled by rebels!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ice;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of singers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of troubles;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of war! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land with the biggest cemetery in the wolrd!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of desert;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of trees;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant teenagers!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of timber;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hatred;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of love;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of care;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of peace;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of smokers!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of businesses;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of harlots;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of wise people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of idiots!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of gold;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of cocoa;
Whose country is this?
It is a alnd full of crabs;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of evil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of rainfalls;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ants;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of horses;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pigs;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of statues;
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of birds;
And so on, and so forth!
Because nature had made them so as we see them around us,
But the wise and fool live together on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Death's Severed Head
Death now goes about without it's head,
Lurking around in the shadow depraved.
But now unable to aim it's sharp sting
And to claim it's infamous victory at the grave.
All it does now is invade our innocent youth
And tries to afflict them with lust and hate.
It burdens them with hopelessness and despair
And ruins minds while holding wide the devil's gate.
It met the people trekking through the Sinai,
Seeking the glorious life of the Promised Land.
It turned back their minds to the fleshpots of Egypt
And took the gold they had brought from their hand.
No more let death be the darkener your heart,
Nor bend your image and steal your youth.
‘Cause death and it's head was made to part,
And now eternally drips its blood in truth.
poem by Albert Price
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