It's The Conquerors Who Write The History
As they chased the wild bison on horse back they whooped and cheered loud
And they were great hunters so noble and proud
But now on the prairies the bison are rare
And the people who hunted them no longer there.
Of the great Northern Land the first people till the invaders came
And their tragic dispossession is a thing of great shame
Conquered and put into reservations for to grow old and die
The rights of Indigenous people to them did not apply.
It's the conquerors who write history as we have been told
And men they have murdered for Land and for Gold
But what matters most when history we trace
That a Country's first people must take pride of place.
You great country singers with your golden guitars,
You politicians and tycoons and billionaire movie stars
There once was a people far greater than you
And to Mother Nature they were far more true.
And the workings of Nature they did understand
And they were the people who cared for the Land
And they were displaced and oppressed and down trod
By those who believed in a different God.
They once were great warriors, wise, noble and proud
And they gave us Chief Seattle and wise Chief White Cloud
And their profound words of wisdom still living today
And such things of great beauty will never decay.
The truth may seem bitter but the truth we must face
That a Country's first people should take pride of place
And around the World Indigenous people are not treated well
Though they have such marvellous stories to tell.
The conquerors write the history as conquerors do
But to the true history they never are true
And the conquered the history never will write
And we are conditioned to believe that might is always right.
The changes keep happening and nothing seem to last
And the great herds of bison a thing of the past
And those who once hunted them were locked away
And in reservations were forced for to stay.
Out on the lone prairie their ghosts still reside
At midnight the hunters their spotted horses ride
As they chase the wild bison across the great plain
The past in the moonlight comes to life again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Related quotes
You Tell Me Of Your Australian History
You tell me of your Australian history your ancestors were British and Irish pioneers
But your history in this Land is not an old history just two centuries and twenty years
And in time that may seem quite a long span though the combined life spans of three people nothing more
Your ancestors hardly were Aussies they came here from a distant shore.
The first Australians have lived in this Country for longer than most care to know
Their ancestors came here from Asia more than sixty thousand years ago
They are indigenous to this Country all others have links to elsewhere
Yet they still struggle for recognition and that to me seems quite unfair.
Dispossessed by the Northern invaders they never did get back their Land
And that they are now ruled by white people I find that hard to understand
You talk of the history of this Land as if it were only two hundred years old
But then suppose the history of the ancient Dreamtime by white people will never be told.
I was not even born in this Country which makes you more Aussie than I
And though I'm not Nationalistic or Patriotic my heritage I won''t deny
You talk of your pioneering ancestors but why talk of Human history at all
If the history of the first Australians you do not see fit to recall.
You tell me of your pioneering ancestors but one fact you tend to ignore
That they were not born in this Country they came here from a foreign shore
You''d swear by you the Human history of this Land was only two centuries old
But the true history of this great Country by your type will never be told
poem by Francis Duggan
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Tye
I was once a great queen of Egypt,
Though I ‘am just a lifeless mummy now,
I was once at the heart of Egyptian life,
I became first queen of real power,
I helped shape history through my actions,
My name still lives on today,
People still carry my name after all these years,
I have become as close to immortal as any human can,
History still remembers who I was,
The Tye name lives on across the world,
People still us my name with pride,
Though I died so long ago I still live on,
Showing the world what I achieved,
I was the first woman to become an equal to men,
People respected me for my wisdom and intellect,
I paved the way for all those who followed me,
I was the first of many great queens though-out history,
I ‘am a sign of what could be achieved by one person.
poem by Christopher Tye
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Biji Kurd U Kurdistan! ! !
Where has history disappeared to
What happen to our name
Was our land taking unfairly
Our mark has been writing in history
Islam has thanked my people
Saladin stood up against the enemies
He was brave and a shiny star of pride
May I follow his example
Known to the world
A great powerful force
Marching through the desert
Waving our banner across the sky
Genocide was coming for my people
Slaves to another country
Our land stripped away from our hands
Losing thousands of Kurds
Now we are the dogs of Islam
We stay strong against the enemy
The past is being recreated
We helped destroy a horrible regime
Controlling the mountains once again
Protecting our land
Helping build a new empire
Freedom is screaming for us
It sounds great and Allah is on our side
Finally our liberation is beginning
The time is ending for our depression
We stick together in struggle and peace
Biji Kurd U Kurdistan the people will yell
poem by Steven Mattice
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Three Kinds of People
The books of my history
Begins with comedy
And end with tragedy
“Son”, do you know this
Spontaneous?
If you don’t know
Don’t mind
Your father will tell you.
There are three kinds of people
But the history knows only two
The first are foxy foxes
Who do right things and
Great good deeds
They stand at the top of history
The second are mad dogs
Who do wrong things and
Great evil deeds
They stand at the bottom of history
The third are piggy hyenas
Who are neither wise nor foolish?
Who cannot do right or wrong?
The history doesn’t know them
They have no chapter in history book
Can you choose among them for
Your inspiration and if you
Can heed my advice
The foxes are the best stars
To stick to.
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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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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Nothing Ever Last
The World's great Empires have gone to decay
They rose and they fell and each had their day
And one Super Power rise as another does fall
And the small will grow great and the great become small.
The Pharoahs and the Aztecs and the Incas as well
And the all conquering Romans too had their glorious spell
And the Spaniards and the British of the recent past
Were known to be great Empires but they too did not last.
The Soviets and Germans great power did command
But their demise not that hard to understand
Since great powers they come and great powers they go
Though nothing lasts forever as history does show.
Genghis Khan and Napoleon and Alexander the Great
These all conquering heroes had their use by date
Though in the history of the World their names living on
The Empires they ruled over like them are long gone.
Un-rivalled for supremacy as the World Super Power of today
By far the most powerful Nation is the U S of A
But as history does tell us nothing ever last
And one day they too will be a power of the past.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Athens Beckons!
It is not just a fairy tale
But true and very much real
In the history of long long ago
There flourished the glory of Athens
And the golden age of Pericles
Just not a city of scenic beauty
But an ideal and a model city
The perfect symbol of democracy
And no special room for aristocracy
Devoted to the cause of Excellency
Surely a seat of great wisdom
Where people could enjoy utmost freedom
By digging deep into the repository
No where is found such place in all history
The mother of all epistemology
Where Socrates could write his Apology
When the justice shone on all the houses
Even the poor could smile as the virtuous
Bloomed on this cradle of fine culture
Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides
Could nourish the roots of literature
Herodotus and Thucydides
Two great chroniclers of matchless wisdom
Who took away from history all its boredom
Whoever said that history is dead
Isn't aware of the edifice on which we stand
For nations like Athens once mighty and grand
Connect us to history's unending strand!
poem by Rekha Sathya
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Show me my Africa!
Show me my origin...
Show me my land...
Show me my Africa...
Shine and support the spirit of UBUNTU.
Take me back to where i belong,
Where birds fly well peacefully,
Where every creature is happy.
Let me hear African stories,
Let me see its natural beauty landscapes.
Show me my land...
The land of great heroes,
Where Nobel peace price winners were born.
Where fighting and murder is a sin,
Where all people wish one thing,
Where all people preach one thing,
Where all people practice one thing,
Where everyone wants PEACE.
Let me hear those voices of hope...
Land of admissible and prosperity,
Where cultural diversity means nothing, but
Brings us together as valiant regiments.
Past is the past and let us let it pass...
Show me my Africa...
Where robust and intrepid people lives,
Where the beauty of cultures reflects.
Let discrimination be the history
And believe in the beauty of Africa.
Show me my origin...
Let me venerate and cherish its traditions..
Let me be the true African.
Take me back to Africa.
Show me my origin,
Show me my land,
Show me my AFRICA..
('ubuntu' is a Zulu word meaning humanity)
poem by Siyabonga A nxumalo
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End Of All Things
Every city has its history.
History of great wars!
History of great works!
What makes a civilization great
Are the noble thoughts of noble men.
Savages are killed
And the empires built!
Draping of huge towers and artistic halls
Decorate the ageing
Frame of the ever-growing city.
Ballads are sung
For great many victories and achievements
Of great many kings!
But no one cares
To sing an Elegy
Of love lost
In the busy alleys
Of the towering cities!
Today,
Things worth nothing are everything.
People known since ages are now unknown.
Thoughts like parasites
Thrive on the dying emotions of heart.
Churches are libraries of knowledge.
And Bible just a fiction.
Man has ceased to live.
Only thing that he does is ‘EXISTS.’
His creations are the prophecies of his fall!
Civilization is built
On the debris of Barbarism.
It grows.
It develops.
And it culminates
To nothing but debris.
Because the highest peak
Of every civilization is Barbarism!
End of all things!
poem by Aditya Chandrasen Salvi
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In The Name Of People
In the name of kind people who aren't hopeless
The people who are looking for bless
In the name of people who have a great self steam and a great view of life
The people who help other people to be alive
The people who respect each other
People who learn to not bother
In the name of people who had pure tears
People who lived a life full of fears
In the name of people …people who will stay
People who are strong in their speeches, they don't say may! ! ! !
In the name of people who believe what is disgusting is LIE!
People who haven't seen my tears tonight…I'm going to say good bye.
In the name of people, the people of a forgotten place
People who stayed strong, even with their blooded face
In the name of people, the people who are dear
People that will cry, will laugh, but they don't betray, with their pure tear
poem by Ellias Anderson
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Chosen People
Glory is on our way[? ]
Worship the sun, great spirit.
Born of the mother earth,
Seek for the true white brother.
We are the chosen people, give back our sacred land.
We are the four grandfathers, a destiny for man.
It is written in our prophecy,
[it is written in our prophecy]
That we shall find the true white brother,
[we shall find the true white brother]
Who will help us, joined together, to build humanity.
There is a place for everyone.
We are the chosen people, give back our holy land.
We are the ever forest, we are great spirits hand.
She will call us soon,
She will shake her body,
Bringing your land to ruin.
Why will the world not hear us?
We are most ancient teachers, we know great spirits plan.
We learned by natures secrets, the inner side of man.
We are the chosen people, give back our sacred land.
We are the four grandfathers, a destiny for man.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Forget who is your Father
God is Great
He created you and me so ladies and gentleman
he is the only person to praise and pray
Cause some of us we pray Alan people you pray him
who is him God is the one who created us
so guys help me to Thank him every time i'm sick i call him cause
he is the hiller the killer of diseases in the world
Help me to sing.
How great is our God sing with me how great is our God
all we sing is how great is our God age to age praise his
Great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great great great great great
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD..
Thank you Help me pliz.
poem by Ruvimbo Daisy Matsika
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Welcome To The Cordillera
WELCOME TO THE CORDILLERA
mELVIN d.bANGGOLLAY
Welcome to the great Cordillera's beauty
And behold its mystic land and history
Of people in a land known as the stairway
To heaven with its ranges of nature tapestry.
Welcome to Kalinga, verdant land known to many
As the land of the brave hunters our history,
The land known as the peacock of the country
With their colorful custom amidst modernity.
Here you can fine Cordillera's rice granary
With the best aroma of coffee in the country
Perfectly brewed by hands of genuine beauty
Of charming ladies dancing with gong's intimacy.
If you traverse the highways of Cagayan Valley
You will be charmed by Apayao's serene beauty
Where you can now fine banana based industry
With their growing cassava production in ARC.
You can fine here the cleanest river in our country
From its unexploited forest away from modernity
Where you can enjoy wildlife living in intimacy
As you can see domesticated dear in every family.
Benguet is another source of the land' beauty
Where the famous mines of gold and silver stay
Popularly known as the region's vegetable granary
With its temperate cold climate you can feel everyday.
On this land you can also fine the famous Baguio City
Known as the cleanest and greenest city in history
Known as the city of pines in the entire country
and as the summer capital of our archipelago today.
If you go down and pass along the whirling highway
You can reach the province of Abra known to many
As the bamboo capital of the entire region' today
With their famous bamboo based craft and industry.
Although the land is know for its political history
With famous politicians names making their own story
It is peopled by those who love to have peace everyday
Making the land of love flowing with stream of honey.
When you go west passing the known Halsima Highway
You will reach the only Mountain Province of the country
Where you will be enchanted to behold nature's beauty
Of high mountain peaks engulfed with pine's' great serenty.
You will never leave this land once you sip its coffee
Proven to have the aroma that relieves boredom magically
Being roasted by prudent hands known for their ingenuity
Of weaving products from looms and abaca fiber industry.
When you go south, you'll be charmed by Ifugao's beauty
With its famous land of history during the Japanese occupancy
Where lot of tales of hidden treasure were told everyday
From generations to generations until our time today.
It can not be denied that Ifugao Terraces is world history
With the ingenuity displayed by Ifugao seen today
In building stairways from slopes of mountain's scenery
Without any aid of modern tools like we have today.
If you want to know more and discover our ingenuity
Come to the Cordillera Region and enjoy its scenery
Along with the sweet smiles and warm hospitality
Of its people living in peace for our nation's posterity
poem by Melvin Banggollay
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Down South In South Australia
Down south in South Australia in old Port Adelaide
A place of Indigenous history where history has often been made
Home of renowned Australian Rules Footballers men who are known Worldwide
They wore the magpie colours with a certain sense of pride.
In the beautiful Port River the dolphins sport and play
In fancy I can see them in the sunlight of the day
From the pier at Port Adelaide one them often does see
Marvellous memories of such beauty keep on coming back to me.
Those grand old Towns of South Australia by the far southern shore
Port Adelaide and West Lakes, Largs Bay and Semaphore
Fond memories of such beauty one always does retain
And in my flights of fancy I visit there again.
One can only imagine in the warm sunshine and breeze
The very first Australians had their corroborees
Long before the coming of the Europeans many centuries ago
Though little of their history or their ways we do know.
Down south in South Australia in old Port Adelaide
Of there I have great memories and great memories never fade
Of an old place that's full of history and the friendly people who live there
It's famous Football Club and renowned Australian Rules Players are well known everywhere.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Survive
Whatever happened to you
The one that was so beautiful
I could count on you to make my life a little brighter
I always thought you were built to last
But I never saw anything fall apart so fast
You were born in freedom
To be a slave to your inhibitions
Inventing excuses and proving the right to back up your condition
But a soul like that aint tied too tight
And its liable to scatter all over the night
Seasons change
Some people get old and die
Great cities are built up and torn down
But I see youre still alive
Seasons change
Some people get old and die
Great cities are built up and torn down
So how could you survive
Im not asking for much
Only for time to stop
And history to go unrecorded
And people not to be people
People not to be people
People not to be people
People not to be people not to b
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life Is Truly Like A Stage
If we filmed all our lives,
Would people watch us as we cry,
Would people listen to our lies,
Would people sorrow as we die?
If our stories were to be told,
Would people let the stories unfold,
Would people notice us be so bold,
Would people love us as we grow?
If our lives were to intertwine,
Would people drink it as a wine,
Would people lurk as we shine,
Would people sit as we dine?
If we had a song to sing,
Would people listen to everything,
Would people know our love is like a ring,
Would people know you are my queen?
If we all had an undying love,
Would people let it fly like a dove,
Would people turn to the gods above,
Would people know of our true love?
If I had one thing to give,
Would people know your love is why I live,
Would people know the joy, to me, you give,
Would people know for your love I'd jump a cliff?
If you had one thing to take,
It would be my soul so great,
Now that people know my fate,
It is that my love for you came too late.
poem by Matthew Jenkins
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The Winners Write The History
That the winners write the war histories should not be the case
For war is a tragedy a human disgrace
And the losers in war see their Country destoyed
And the war history never written by the losing side.
Look at Oliver Cromwell victorious in war
The deeds of his glory from England known far
But those who write on Cromwell they never do tell
Of one who for poor people made life Earthly hell.
To the Catholics of Ireland Cromwell was a brute
The poor rural peasants he did persecute
Yet streets in his honour distant from England today
The winners only write the history so true what they say.
Efrain Rios Montt became President of Guatemala even though he
Was guilty of serious crimes against humanity
An old man now but for his crimes yet to pay
The winners write the history it's always been that way.
Augusto Pinochet in Chile has blood on his hands
And that he may die a free man seems hard to understand
And though loathed by many in Chile for his crimes of shame
The winners write the history and their's is the fame.
I've just mentioned a few for there are many more
Who have committed crimes against humanity but like it has been said before
that the winners write the history and that's how 'twill remain
And the mistakes of the past are repeated again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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What Is A Jewish Poem?
WHAT IS A JEWISH POEM?
What is a Jewish poem?
‘Shema’ is a Jewish poem
Perhaps the Jewish poem-
'Shmoneh Esreh' is comprised of Jewish poems
Nineteen prayers as one-
Our history is filled with Jewish poems-
From the beginning with Abraham and Sarah
Those who have given so much beyond our understanding -
Jewish poems everywhere -
Is each Jewish life a poem and a story also?
Or is it only those who give something to our people and history
Who are worthy of Poetry?
I have known many Jewish poems
People the great world will not know the names of
People who whether they walked humbly or not
Made the lives of others better in some way –
Kindness is perhaps the ultimate Jewish poem
And Justice also-
And Jewish poems are not without their contradictions –
As I write this poem in Jerusalem in the land of Israel
I think of the small Jewish world of Troy New York where I came from so many years ago
And miss so many people no longer of that and this world –
Longing for Israel for two thousand years was the Jewish poem
Living here now is a blessing and a gift
I thank God for.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Lisa Bellear
She was a marvellous woman and people like her are rare
The activist, poet and singer the great Lisa Bellear
Dead in her forty sixth year that seems so young to die
The reaper who claimed her life will claim the life of you and i.
In the aboriginal society of Melbourne her's was a well known name
And in greater Australia not a stranger to fame
A beautiful human being she had a heart of gold
The good die young true in her case she was not meant to grow old.
Gone from life but not forgotten yet none to take her place
With others she shared her gift of laughter and life she did embrace
The Melbourne indigenous community are in mourning the tears for her will flow
They have lost a friend and mentor one they did love and know.
I heard in the news this morning Lisa Bellear had died
An indigenous activist she was known far and wide
And may she rest in peace now back to Nature she has gone
But fond memories of the great one are destined to live on.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On Passing Cromwell Street
In Melbourne streets named in his honour though he does not warrant such fame
For he lived a life of dishonour yet he never felt any shame
For his crimes against the poor of Ireland the winners write the history they say
And historians are too kind to Cromwell the one who did awful things in his day.
He evicted the poor of rural Ireland those who only knew of poverty
And put them on the hard road to Connacht the victims of crimes against humanity
His army were thugs and not soldiers for they did things that soldiers ought not do
The winners always write the history though their version of history is often not true.
In Cromwell's time the winners wrote the history and the winners still write the history today
But for any crimes against humanity the winners too should be made to pay
But Cromwell and his army honoured for their crimes in Ireland against the poor defenceless poor
'Tis sad to think that one so unworthy of a place in history is secure.
To hell or to Connacht his catch cry he forced thousands of poor families on the road
To people who were penniless and innocent not one scrap of mercy he showed
Thousands of them died in the harsh Irish Winter when homelessness on them took it's toll
Because they were poor they were punished though their life circumstances beyond their control.
I think of the untruths of history each time I drive by Cromwell street
The history written by winners their history of lies and deceit
I say to myself they honour a tyrant and I struggle for to understand
Why they name a street after somebody who oppressed the poor of Ireland.
Andrew Marvell in verse glorified Cromwell but he was one who would not know
What Cromwell and his army got up to in Ireland in those bleak times centuries ago
But he only believed what they told him and they told him what he wanted to hear
History often written by unworthy people those who rule by terror and fear.
In Melbourne streets named in his honour his poor victims long forgotten and gone
Into the World of the forgotten but Cromwell's fame is living on
And the lessons we should have learned from history did not lead to a fair go for all
And the winners only write the story though the real truth they never recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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