Ethiopia Saluting The Colors
WHO are you, dusky woman, so ancient, hardly human,
With your woolly-white and turban'd head, and bare bony feet?
Why, rising by the roadside here, do you the colors greet?
('Tis while our army lines Carolina's sand and pines,
Forth from thy hovel door, thou, Ethiopia, com'st to me,
As, under doughty Sherman, I march toward the sea.)
Me, master, years a hundred, since from my parents sunder'd,
A little child, they caught me as the savage beast is caught;
Then hither me, across the sea, the cruel slaver brought.
No further does she say, but lingering all the day, 10
Her high-borne turban'd head she wags, and rolls her darkling eye,
And curtseys to the regiments, the guidons moving by.
What is it, fateful woman--so blear, hardly human?
Why wag your head, with turban bound--yellow, red and green?
Are the things so strange and marvelous, you see or have seen?
poem by Walt Whitman
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Related quotes
Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 26
I have seen a fat fool, dressed in a costly robe, with a turban of Egyptian linen on his head, riding on an Arab horse. Someone said: ‘Sa’di, what thinkest thou of this famous brocade upon this ignorant animal?’ I replied: ‘It is like ugly characters scrawled with gold-water.’
Verily he is like an ass among men,
A calf, a body which is bleating.
This animal cannot be said to resemble a man
Except in his cloak, turban and outward adornment.
Examine all his property and belongings of his estate
Thou wilt find nothing lawful to take except his blood.
If a noble man becomes impoverished imagine not
That his high worth will also decrease.
But if into a silver threshold golden nails are driven
By a Jew, think not that he will thereby become noble.
Hold Your Head Up
And if its bad
Dont let it get you down
You can take it
And if it hurts
Dont let them see you cry
You can make it
Just hold your head up woman
Hold your head up woman
Hold your head up woman
Hold your head high
Hold your head up woman
Hold your head up woman
Hold your head up woman
Hold your head high
And if they stare, just let them
Burn their eyes on you moving
And if they shout, dont let it change
A thing that youre doing
Hold your head up ...
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When you first start wearing a turban, probably the most common mistake is wrapping it too tight. You have to allow the head to breathe.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Ballad of John Nicholson
It fell in the year of Mutiny,
At darkest of the night,
John Nicholson by Jalándhar came,
On his way to Delhi fight.
And as he by Jalándhar came,
He thought what he must do,
And he sent to the Rajah fair greeting,
To try if he were true.
"God grant your Highness length of days,
And friends when need shall be;
And I pray you send your Captains hither,
That they may speak with me."
On the morrow through Jalándhar town
The Captains rode in state;
They came to the house of John Nicholson,
And stood before the gate.
The chief of them was Mehtab Singh,
He was both proud and sly;
His turban gleamed with rubies red,
He held his chin full high.
He marked his fellows how they put
Their shoes from off their feet;
"Now wherefore make ye such ado
These fallen lords to greet?
"They have ruled us for a hundred years,
In truth I know not how,
But though they be fain of mastery
They dare not claim it now."
Right haughtily before them all
The durbar hall he trod,
With rubies red his turban gleamed,
His feet with pride were shod.
They had not been an hour together,
A scanty hour or so,
When Mehtab Singh rose in his place
And turned about to go.
Then swiftly came John Nicholson
Between the door and him,
With anger smouldering in his eyes,
That made the rubies dim.
"You are over-hasty, Mehtab Singh," --
Oh, but his voice was low!
He held his wrath with a curb of iron
That furrowed cheek and brow.
"You are over-hasty, Mehtab Singh,
When that the rest are gone,
I have a word that may not wait
To speak with you alone."
The Captains passed in silence forth
And stood the door behind;
To go before the game was played
Be sure they had no mind.
But there within John Nicholson
Turned him on Mehtab Singh,
"So long as the soul is in my body
You shall not do this thing.
"Have ye served us for a hundred years
And yet ye know not why?
We brook no doubt of our mastery,
We rule until we die.
"Were I the one last Englishman
Drawing the breath of life,
And you the master-rebel of all
That stir this land to strife --
"Were I," he said, "but a Corporal,
And you a Rajput King,
So long as the soul was in my body
You should not do this thing.
"Take off, take off, those shoes of pride,
Carry them whence they came;
Your Captains saw your insolence,
And they shall see your shame."
When Mehtab Singh came to the door
His shoes they burned his hand,
For there in long and silent lines
He saw the Captains stand.
When Mehtab Singh rode from the gate
His chin was on his breast:
The captains said, "When the strong command
Obedience is best."
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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If You Were The Woman & I Was The Man
If you were the woman and I was the man
Would I send you yellow roses?
Would I dare to kiss your hand?
In the morning would I caress you
As the wind caresses the sand,
If you were the woman and I was the man?
If I was the heart and you were the head
Would you think me very foolish
If one day I decided to shed
These walls that surround me
Just to see where these feelings led,
If I was the heart and you were the head?
If I was the woman and you were the man
Would I laugh if you came to me
With your heart in your hand
And said, I offer you this freely
And will give you all that I can
Because you are the woman
And I am the man?
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of Offerings
Dost thou understandeth not
Unleashed evil on thy doors
Thy senses in ropes
Knotted
Ancient deities
Personification of the evil
In nature and man
In woman
In beast
Some curse
A sacrifice on the scale
From bad to worse
Human blood
A virgin head
Some sweets
Feast to many
Signs understood
In fabrications
Be a host
Sometimes
Of offerings in alms
In charity
To widen the heart
Much space for every soul
Be the dust particle
In the sea of sand
9/9/2009
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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The Black Mammy
O whitened head entwined in turban gay,
O kind black face, O crude, but tender hand,
O foster-mother in whose arms there lay
The race whose sons are masters of the land!
It was thine arms that sheltered in their fold,
It was thine eyes that followed through the length
Of infant days these sons. In times of old
It was thy breast that nourished them to strength.
So often hast thou to thy bosom pressed
The golden head, the face and brow of snow;
So often has it 'gainst thy broad, dark breast
Lain, set off like a quickened cameo.
Thou simple soul, as cuddling down that babe
With thy sweet croon, so plaintive and so wild,
Came ne'er the thought to thee, swift like a stab,
That it some day might crush thine own black child?
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Kiss Of Life
See me a big woman, big woman look how you dance
See me a big woman, big woman caught in a trance
Dancing on the tabletop, covered up with the easter feast
Youre dancing for the fishermen, from the very large right
To the least
Dancing for the slow release, first the boy and then the beast
Then the beast
Burning, buring with the kiss of life
Burning, buring with the kiss of life
See me, a big woman, big woman so full of life
See me, a big woman, big woman going to be my wife
Watching for the different eyes - they change your face -
They come inside
Watch the spirits laugh and cry, watch them find a place
To hide
Watch the spirits talk in tongues, watch them take you for
A ride
Down at the ocean lies a body in the sand
Big woman sits beside, head in hand
With heat from her skin, and fire from her breath
She blows hard, she slows deep in the mouth of death
Burning, burning with the kiss of life
Burning, burning with the kiss of life
Burning, burning with the kiss of life
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Caught in a politics of culture
caught in a politics of culture
designed for the indifferent
they are brought to nothing
because a web
that brought them to their knees
knitted in poverty's trap
now they have nothing
sorry, life, prayer
and God
who appears distant
with everyone saying
be strong, God will
will what the family beckons
caught in a politics of culture
designed for the indifferent
the head man cries
cries like a child in need of change
his lamentation brought the
family to tear
but
what next the head child inquire
as he sees not purpose for education
a grown had by his head man
yet he was brought to his knees
and now the family suffers
they cry for want
everything is wrong
and God appears distant
nowhere for redemption
they languish by the seconds
caught in a politics of culture
designed for the indifferent
the debt collector is coming
they hide beneath the opened heavens
caught and hell upon to leave
once again belittled in an opened space
yet the family beckons for help
wondering when, when, when
when God is coming to change the future
but the family is caught in present
a pile, a web, a paradox of mystery
wanting help,
seeing it close
but offered expressions
the children laugh with vexation
but the head man
say
no jealous should be in thine heart
caught in a politics of culture
designed for the indifferent
the man search the obituary
for a unknown father
who may have left him bequest
as a gift
a piped hope, but a faith in something
in a heaven of opportunity
he cries to the God of Daniel
no sound cometh from the
saviour the belittled call
is He caught in the system
they wonder
just expressions, expressions and more rhetoric
and no sign of help
a family with a sick child
not having finance
because the head man is
caught in a politics of culture
designed for the indifferent
poem by Paul Andrew Bourne
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If You Were The Woman And I Was The Man
If you were the woman and I was the man
Would I send you yellow roses?
Would I dare to kiss your hand?
In the morning would I caress you
as the wind caresses the sand,
If you were the woman and I was the man?
If I was the heart and you were the head
Would you think me very foolish
if one day I decided to shed
these walls that surround me
just to see where these feelings led,
if I was the heart and you were the head?
If I was the woman and you were the man
Would I laugh if you came to me
with your heart in your hand
and said,
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dream Child
since childhood
I used to dream
can ride a horse around town
handsome white horse
turban on his head
robe and sword at his waist
accompanied by a beautiful girl sauntered
who always smiled
that made my heart-flowered
life is beautiful, full of dreams
when there is an expectation
faraway
poem by Prasetya Utama
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The Tulip
Tossing turban style contours, with an aloofness as one passes by,
Utilizing every charm it possesses, under a lupin blue cloudless sky,
Like a guardsman, gallantly standing, holding up his noble head high,
In rainbow colours, brilliant and stately, a vision to surely yield a sigh,
Ponder thus upon the regal tulip, it has pure beauty, you cannot deny.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The fear of God is not wearing a white turban.
Ahab The Arab
(ray stevens)
Let me tell you bout ahab the arab, the sheik of the burning sand,
He had emeralds and rubies just a-dripping off a him and a ring on every finger of his hand.
He wore a big old turban wrapped around his head, a scimitar by his side
And every evening about midnight hed jump on his camel named clyde.
And ride silently through the night to the sultans tent
Where he would secretly meet up with fatima of the seven veils.
She was the swinginest number one dancer in the sultans whole harem.
It was like him and her they had a little adam going, you see,
Behind the old buggers back.
And you could hear him talking to his camel
And as he rode out across the dunes past the oil wells
His voice would cut through the still night desert air
And hed say, maaaaaaa oyy oyy oyy !!!
Which is arabic for oh, baby ...
And clyde would say, yewrah raaaoww uh uh uh uh uh!
Well, he brought his camel to a screeching halt at the rear of fatimas tent,
Jumped off clyde, snuck around the corner and into the tent he went.
There he saw fatima laying on a, on a zebra skin rug,
With rings on her fingers, bells on her toes and a bone in her nose, eeeeyye.
There she was friends and neighbors, laying there in all her radiant beauty,
She was eating on a raisin, had a grape, and an apricot, and a pomegranate,
A bowl of chitterlings, two bananas, three hershey bars, four burritos,
Sipping on a frozen margarita, listening to a transistor radio,
Watching the grand ole opry, reading rolling stone magazine and singing rocky mountain high.
And ahab walked up to her and he said, yeeeiiaaaahowowhidehowdihi!
Which is arabic for, lets boogie again like we did last summer, baby.
And she said, oh, ahab, ah ha uh, ahab. crazy, baby.
And thats the story about ahab the arab, the sheik of the burning sand,
He had emeralds and rubies just a-dripping off a him and a ring on every finger of his hand.
He wore a big old turban wrapped around his head, a scimitar by his side,
And every evening about midnight hed jump on his camel named clyde ...
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Color
Children don't see color in a human face.
All that they see is the human race.
Little child of brown
come let's swing around.
Little child of black
let's play piggy-back.
Little child of white
let's go fly a kite.
Little child of yellow
come share my marshmallow.
When you get all grown up,
I hope that you won; t change.
Can you remember all the fun
when our faces were not strange?
Innocence is fleeting.
All too soon it's lost.
Now we notice colors
and look what it has cost.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Baldness
Of your fathers gone by,
Where are they now?
Of your mothers gone by,
Where are they now?
Like the baldness on one's head because,
Man does not live forever!
You are the son of Hystaspis,
And you have a turban upon your head;
But do speak the truth always!
Because, life in the city is full of the truth.
Of the old men and women,
Living in the city of truth;
But like the tents of Cushan in afflection,
So is the baldness now upon the earth.
The earth is divided by rivers!
Like the sweet wine from the mountains;
And the waters of the sea do pave the way like,
The buying of the poor with silver!
But like the day that i became a foreigner,
My feet became like that of a deer.
Baldness is upon the earth like,
A basket full of sweet fruits;
But to buy the needy for a pair of shoes is like,
The sadness in every man's home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My Web
(written by maxim)
Distort your mind, call up children of all kinds
Your intellect that inform my (? ), in my storm is where youre caught
Reinstate your faith, your only faith is me they love to hate
(maybe something in spanish? ), will be their familia
Caught in my web
You got me caught up in your head
Im the shadow dark, that hides behind your thought
Dr. jekyll inside, if youll be mr. hyde
Try to control me, try to control me
Caught in my web
You got me caught up in your head (x2)
(some words reversed...) pollute, combine mine for benzote
Stain your environment, chalk up my bind influence
Saturate reality, go to battle when youre 70
The human race I exploit, and Ill leave you no choice
Bloodll overflow your cranium, whats the millenium?
Personality not present, overturn your only (instrument? )
Suffocate your desire, set your village voice on fire
Enter my world which you thought, prepare for second on-slaught
Caught in my web
You got me caught up in your head (x3)
Ill stunt your growth, degrade yourself (? ? ? ) dont move
Bleach your eyes with turpentine, tie them with the cord in your spine
Subside your love life, seperate the yolk from the white
Im the co-creator, mind de-capitator
Im the evil that lurks, the pain inside that hurts
Spike your dreams, plant my thoughts obscene not (or and? ) clean
Impregnant your ears, when you hear me, its me ya fear
Me they hate the most, oh!
Here come the verbose
Caught in my web
You got me caught up in your head (x4)
We need their familia...
song performed by by Prodigy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keep You Head To The Sky
Words and music by maurice white
Master told me one day
Id find peace in every way
But in search for the clue
Wrong things I was bound to do
Keep my head to the sky
For the clouds to tell me why
As I grew, and with strength
Master kept me as I repent
And he said
Keep your head to the sky
Keep your head to the sky
He gave me the will to be free
Purpose to live his reality
Hey, and I found myself never alone
Chances came to make me strong
To step right up and be a man
cause you need faith to understand
So were saying for you to hear
Keep your head and face atmosphere
Keep your head to the sky
So the clouds
Keep your head to the sky
So they can tell you why, lord
Keep your head to the sky
Surely, the clouds are gonna tell you why
Gave me the will to be free
Purpose to live his reality
Ooo, and I found myself never alone
cause chances came, they came to make me strong
Hey, to step right up and be a man
Ooo, you need faith to understand
So were just saying for you to hear
Keep your head and face atmosphere
Keep your head to the sky
Keep your head to the sky
Dont walk around with your head hung down
Keep your head to the sky
Keep your head to the sky
Surely, surely the coulds are gonna tell you why
Keep your head to the sky
Keep your head to the sky
Keep your head to the sky
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chauvinist
I’d never really comprehended such a mighty range of
Shapes and sizes down behind, it’s really rather strange:
The buttock muscle in a woman, overlaid with fat
Is actually such a focal point for men to want to pat
Or squeeze, and then to tease her if it’s eminently stout,
Or even risk a stay in clink to sting it with a clout!
After all, we men are tuned to be that way inclined –
And tho’ our needs are varied, girls, they’re all perverse of mind!
Best of all, our sacred dream: to see her shed her gown
When gliding to the shower for the ritual sponging down.
But then alas! With body lathered, oops! she drops the soap;
‘Please! ’ we beg her, ‘bend and bare! ’ But we can only hope!
I’m sure by now you get the picture – like a rule of thumb –
That men like me obsess all day about the fairer bum.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
My dreams are of a
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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