KU Thoughts, XIV
Flags and marching bands
Veterans won our freedom
History takes zeal
6th of November,2009
poem by Catrina Heart
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Stolen By The Lie
chained down, spread-eagled,
to the floor of a van....
being taken back to the lie...
that, waving flags, kills babies
not yet born to mothers
without faces or names...
subdue and enslave
in the name of holy freedom...
only held by those
not of color....
marching to the M16 beat
of tyranny driven by oil....
no flags burning?
perhaps they should...
wrapped on the bodies
of souls stolen by the lie!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Remember the Veterans
Remember the veterans
Who straight and tall
At the ceremonies we hold for them
Remember the veterans
Who are still out their today
Fighting for our freedom
An the freedom of people all over the country
Remember their gallant and noble cause
Remember all they have given up for you
But most importantly
Remember the ones who you can't see
Because they've fallen an in a battle fought for you
Or they are in a nursing home or hospital with no family they can see
Remember them because they are so often forgotten
poem by Candace Johnson
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When Scarborough Had Land
I remember Scarborough proud Protestant and blue,
With portraits of a Queen near every pew.
No Sunday shops, no music hops, no liquor on display,
Where the Lodges and the Legions marched each Victoria Day.
Where ensigns flew, Union Jacks too, unique uniforms on parade.
A raucous rush of pompous pride by pals from every trade,
As they beat the drum down Danforth Road on the twenty fourth of May,
Out to the country and back by Byng, again on Dominion Day.
Those were loyal times before the war for king and queen and all,
For more than a few, this love did cause, their ultimate downfall.
It did at Dieppe and D-day too like their seniors at the Somme,
They died for king and country; they did it for a song.
And soon they were forgotten, those who fought for king and crown,
Though those lucky to return had saved the country and the town.
They would walk again forever with their flags flying high,
Marching medals of the heroes that no one could deny.
Except the town of Scarborough was down on the drawing board,
And those fields and sheep and meadows didn't fit the grand accord.
No newcomers paid attention as the veterans vied for space,
And their parades of marching medals only had an old-time grace.
And Scarborough changed by day and night from a township to a city,
Old soldiers faded fast and few and no one had much pity.
And the immigrants came in wave after wave from places far and wide,
As the soldiers went to grave after grave with their flags and faded pride.
But still a few survive today and I'm sure they are not pleased.
'bout the changes to the town and how Scarborough had been squeezed,
From a township to a city where no one cared for esprit de corps,
So they amalgamated with Toronto and Scarborough was no more.
And culture clash and bureaucrat and ever changing rules,
Of mandarin and moguls and Tamils dressed in jewels,
While traffic roared and the buildings soared sometimes to sixty stories,
Where women wrapped in saris sashayed in all their glories.
They had lost the town without a fight, those men from long ago.
And everything was centralized; they said to save some dough,
But the authorities had lied again; it was all politically correct,
And no one marched, no flags did fly and no one did protest.
There are sometimes you still can hear it, the distant drone of pipes,
And men in kilts still carry on, just watched by boys on bikes.
They're just a faint reminder now of the many marching bands,
When those with flags and medals marched and Scarborough had some land.
DEC 1ST 2010
poem by James Bredin
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Legal Immigrant
I am an immigrant
quisling with various flags
when I enter my hut
I wear my ego and listen to CNN.
I've wondered many times
about my lyric of thoughts
is it in my flag tongue...?
Or is it in my new found love
legal immigrant.
© Emu Getachew. November 2009
poem by Emu Getachew
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Black History Month
In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.
But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!
Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...
*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Veterans Day Poem
Veterans Day
the old soldier refuses
to talk about war
Veterans Day
the 15 year old lad
in grandad's uniform
Veterans Day
all alone in the garden
remembering friends
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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But this Veterans Day, I believe we should do more than sing the praises of the bravery and patriotism that our veterans have embodied in the past. We should take this opportunity to re-evaluate how we are treating our veterans in the present.
quote by Nick Lampson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On this Veterans Day, let us remember the service of our veterans, and let us renew our national promise to fulfill our sacred obligations to our veterans and their families who have sacrificed so much so that we can live free.
quote by Dan Lipinski
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Veterans
When the last charge sounds
And the battle thunders o'er the plain,
Thunders o'er the trenches where the red streams flow,
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, beneath your torn old flag, we burst upon the foe?
When the last post sounds
And the night is on the battle-field,
Night and rest at last from all the tumult of our wars,
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, with duty done like yours, we lie beneath the stars?
When the great réveillé sounds
For the terrible last Sabbath,
All the legions of the dead shall hear the trumpet ring!
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, beneath your torn old flag, we rise to meet our King?
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Humanity Always Rises From Slavery
freedom is a choice
some have no choice
some embrace freedom
embrace freedom aspired
to with life risk abandonment
life given on cusp freedom
threshold mind enlightenment
we embrace our true birthright
born separating mind into heart
mind soul demands free spirit
history records tyrant oppression
history records slave rebellion
history teaches freedom liberation
poem by Terence George Craddock
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There Is No Time
This is no time for celebration
This is no time for shaking heads
This is no time for backslapping
This is no time for marching bands
This is no time for optimism
This is no time for endless thought
This is no time for my country right or wrong
Remember what that brought
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
This is no time for congratulations
This is no time to turn your back
This is no time for circumlocution
This is no time for learned speech
This is no time to count your blessings
This is no time for private gain
This is no time to put up or shut up
It wont no time to come back this way again
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
This is no time to swallow anger
This is no time to ignore hate
This is no time to be acting frivolous
Because the time is getting late
This is no time for private vendettas
This is no time to not know who you are
Self knowledge is a dangerous thing
The freedom of who you are
This is no time to ignore warnings
This is no time to clear the plate
Lets not be sorry after the fact
And let the past become out fate
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
This is no time to turn away and drink
Or smoke some vials of crack
This is a time to gather force
And take dead aim and attack
This is no time for celebration
This is no time for saluting flags
This is no time for inner searchings
The future is at head
This is no time for phony rhetoric
This is no time for political speech
This is a time for action
Because the futures within reach
This is the time
This is the time
This is the time
Because there is no time
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is Freedom Free? ? ?
America, Land of the Free',
We know the phrase like the back of our hands
We say it pridefully with our flag flying high,
As we sing to the tune with the marching bands
Yet is freedom really free?
Our ancestors had to fight the English,
They had to earn what we take for granted today
Blood was shed and tears were cried,
But there was no alternate way
So tell me is freedom really free?
The Confederates and the Union went head to head,
The Civil War tore America in two
The African Americans had to fight for their rights,
They had to pay the price to do what they wanted to do
Yet we still think Freedom is really free?
Women fought for their right to be equals,
They fought for their rights to work and vote
They stumbled upon a lot of road blocks,
But they never gave up their hope
And you think Freedom is really free?
Even today we are still fighting for our freedom,
Soldiers abroad are defending our rights
Protecting our people and our homeland,
And losing thier lives in the fights
And still you say Freedom is really free?
It's something we don't always think about,
It's something we all take with a grain of salt
But what if one day, you would wake up and it was all gone,
Who do you think would be at fault?
You see little by little they're drawing the strings,
Your privacy can be invaded
Telephones tapped and cameras in your home,
If ever you are suspected
They say in order to keep us safe and our freedom intact,
They have to take such drastic measures
But stop and think for one minute,
What is the purpose of all these pleasures?
If Freedom isn't really free?
poem by Elizabeth U. Adams
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A Partisan's Protest
O statesmen, what would you be at,
With torches, flags and bands?
You make me first throw up my hat,
And then my hands.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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I Am Apart Of History
I am apart of history
History lies deep down inside of me
I am like Martin Luther King
Just like him I'm going to let freedom ring
I am like Mary Bethune
Because like Maya Angelou I walk like I got oil wells pumping in my living room
I am apart of history
History is important to me
I am like Charles DREW
Like him I can be a scientist too
I am like Malcolm X
Come on my sisters and brothers we have to stop that
I am like Chainey, Schwenger and Moore
I will get people to vote I will go to every door
I am apart of history
I accept the rights my ancestors gave to me
I am like Jackie Robinson
Lokking in the sky at my home runs
I am like Harriet Tubman
Taking slaves to their freedom land
I am like Medgar Evers
Like him I too can be clever
I am like Barack Obama
Rising above to greatness despite the drama
I am apart of history
History is deep down inside of me
poem by Jeanette Matthews
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True Freedom
Freedom imitated,
Can never be a freedom...
Manifested to appreciate.
It would be underrated sooner or later.
With a taste for it to ultimately fade.
Not analyzed is a freedom to connive.
Or diminished in masquerade...
For purposes to degrade its meaning.
Freedom has to be at one's own pace.
To know what it takes to keep it salivated.
Freedom is not minimized.
True freedom is always maximized,
To realize its value.
And never is it in a race to chase,
To regulate another's fate.
True freedom is never ruled to control.
True freedom is a flowing one has,
And knows...
Freedom,
For what it is and felt!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Joined At The Hip
Whenever my wife and I go out,
we are always together.
Some say we are joined at the hip,
it has been that way for thirty-nine years
and we hope many more to come.
If you see one of us,
you can guarantee the other is near.
Some might say we don’t trust one another,
others might say that is what loves about.
Whichever way peoples thoughts go
it does not matter to us.
If they are as happy as we are
they have nothing to complain about.
My wife and I do go out on our own
whenever the occasion takes us,
but mostly we go out together
as what one might say
we’re joined at the hip.
8 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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Freedom of speech and freedom of action are meaningless without freedom to think. And there is no freedom of thought without doubt.
Bergen Evans in The Natural History of Nonsense (1946)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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November Rain
November rain washed away my guilt
November rain washed away my pain
November rain - so tired I felt
November rain was not just any rain
Long I longed with deep torment
For so long my body waited
November rain, , , , Oh, sweet friend
November rain- slowly I faded.
November rain- I cried within
Steady and slowly, it kept on pouring
November rain, watered my skin
And deep inside, I heard my roaring.
November rain, it refused to quit
November rain kept on pouring
And alone outside, in the streets I wept-
dripping... dripping and falling.
poem by Amy Phillip
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Down Lo Ho (Interlude)
Featuring The Refugee All Stars
I wanna dedicate this song,
gone til november,
to all you ladies out there,
crying all alone in your room,
and all you fellas,
goin down south, and not making it back,
may the lord bless your soul.
Every time I make a run,
girl you turn around and cry,
I ask myself why oh why,
see you must understand,
I cant work a 9 to 5,
so ill be gone til november,
said ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
janurary, feburary, march, april, may,
I see you crying but girl i cant stay,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
and give a kiss to my mother,
girl I gotta leave please dont cry,
when I come back you know the limits the sky,
ill take you out to dinner to your favorite spot,
fejuion and fateesion just to get you high,
drive by movies by the cemetary,
if my corps could talk then i'd tell him I was sorry,
life stories of the rich and famous,
some guy with the name some guy name less,
every time I make a run,
girl you turn around and cry,
I ask myself why oh why,
see you must understand,
I cant work a 9 to 5,
so ill be gone til november,
said ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
janurary, feburary, march, april, may,
I see you crying but girl I cant stay,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
yo give a kiss to my mother,
we are none had to do some,
so im knocking on h
song performed by by Wyclef Jean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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History has taught us over and over again that freedom is not free. When push comes to shove, the ultimate protectors of freedom and liberty are the brave men and women in our armed forces. Throughout our history, they've answered the call in bravery and sacrifice.
quote by Timothy Pawlenty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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