National Anthem For A Doomed Nation
With passing years for the nation that dies without battle;
Only the artificial fire of the rusted guns,
Only the faltering and false words’ rapid rattle,
Can nurse out only false and unachievable illusions.
All laugh at, for her; no neither love nor holy bells;
Nor any loyal voice of mourners for martyrs,
The cry, pain and demented elegy of empty shells;
And leaders laughing at, from corrupted sad shires.
O God! Lit the lamps to flee the evil roll,
Not in the hands of traitors, but in their heart and eyes;
Must flow the bright glimmers of good ties,
The joy of masses’ brows ought to be their call;
The flowers of sweetness and joy set in minds,
And each sick vibes flee down of finds.
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
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Anthem For Doomed Youth
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Disease War Endemic To Planet Earth?
Does not brave slain blood of Wilfred
Owen cry out from battlefield ground?
Testify his faith a pacifist is God’s way
They lie who claim say a coward’s way
Wilfred Owen British army enlisted
to prove false lie upon killing score
With grim realism deep ingrained
Owen testified truth murder is war
In 'Anthem for Doomed Youth' told
how men die as cattle slaughtered
listen to these words burn in mind
grim know war is murder legalized
“What passing-bells for those who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle”
“ No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; ”
youth mothers’ sons
born to be slaughtered
in foreign wars?
If meant to be why did God
not create savage claws
for boy babies hands?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Anthem For Doomed Youth
[ music: john lombardo/lyric: john lombardo adapts wilfred owen ]
For whom the bells toll
When sentenced to die
The stuttering rifles
Will stifle the cry
The monstrous anger
The fears rapid rattle
A desert inferno
Kids dying like cattle
Dont tell me
Were not prepared
Ive seen todays marine
Hes eighteen and hes eager
He can be quite mean
No mockries for them
No prayers or bells
The demented choirs
The wailing of shells
The boys holding candles
On untraveled roads
The fear spreads like fire
As shrapnel explodes
I think its wrong
To conscript our youth
Against their will
When plenty of our citizenry
Really like to kill
What sign posts will lead
To armageddons fires
What bugles will call them
From crowded grey shires
The women sit quiet
With death on their minds
A slow dusk descending
The drawing of blinds
Make the hunters all line up
Its their idea of fun
And let those be forgiven
Who never owned a gun
Was it him or me
Or the wailing of the dead
The laughing soldiers
Cast their lots
And you can cut the dread
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Longest Night
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
- only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
(wilfred owen, 1918)
Now the day has run
When the cover comes
But any fool can see
Ahead
Silence is my friend
But it has to end
Any fool can see
Ahead
Its the longest night
Its the longest night
Cold winds may blow
On the longest night
So we write our letters
To those far away
Any fool can see
Ahead
The distant sound of thunder
A choir of wailing shells
Any fool can see
Ahead
Its the longest night
Its the longest night
Cold winds may blow
On the longest night
I dont want to fight
I dont know whos right
Cold winds they blow
On this longest night
Its the longest night
Its the longest night
Cold winds may blow
On this longest night
Music & lyrics by: geoff downes, john payne & ben woolfenden
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sick Heartbreaker
I am sick
I am a sick and demented soul who finds pleasure
and a sense of importance
in breaking hearts
Nothing flatters me more than the dull thud of the male ego crushed
by mere words of mine
The happiest smile I smile
when a pair of longing, jealous eyes are watching me
Does this make me evil?
Does it make me evil to not let anyone put my heart under their microscope?
to strive for detachment from everything that might cause me sorrow in the future?
I don't believe so.
I am just sick.
No silly boy can get me out of this state
No weak-hearted, easily-swept-off-their-feet lad can cure me
I am sick, severely ill.
Only the strongest of hearts
the coolest of heads
the most cunning
the most sincere
the calmest
the most passionate
have any hopes of curing my diseased heart
I am sick.
I am vain and sick.
poem by Natalie Nicholls
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Cursed
Ten days have passed,
But still bleeding and bleeding…..
Parents crying have no ideas; they says, “Cursed.”
I am laughing….but,
It’s not a joy.
I am laughing at my mistake.
Everyone’s heart has been exasperated.
A prayer, a prayer, a prayer……
I call my lord, please save me.
It has been caused
because something has been lost.
But, this pain is more awful than that loss.
It was enforcing me to be drowned into a false.
A false!
I have got everything and it’s reflecting before my eyes.
The most impressive I see now is the parental love.
Now, I have come to know, the paramount motive should be (in my life) to repay this love.
It can reduce the toxin from my body.
It can be haematic to stop my face becoming bloody.
Oh! God, please save me…..
I will never do the same happing with me (as this is the cause of bleeding)
I will devote myself to the service of good ceremony
and I don’t want to hear again such painful melody.
It’s cursed……..
Now, I've understood the harmfulness addiction of drug.
poem by Bibhakar Dutta
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Empty Hands
He rode in town on a white horse
With nothing in his hands
He came to gather his people
And take them to their promised land
When he came he knew there would be bloodshed
But still no violence made his plans
He came to fight in a battle
With no guns or money
But with his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
They said hey boy what you lookin'at
As they eyed his dreaded mane
He said my father has sent me
I've come back to reclaim
The children whose hearts
Were so whole and pure
Now it's you who'll die in pain
So they lynched the man
Who fooled the word
And all the children gathered
In his empty hands
In his empty hands
The children ..... empty hands
In his empty hands
With his empty hands
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Songs of the Lathes
The fans and the beltings they roar round me.
The power is shaking the floor round me
Till the lathes pick up their duty and the midnight-shift takes over.
It is good for me to be here!
Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a man that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders! Feeds the guns!
The cranes and the carriers they boom over me,
The bays and the galleries they loom over me,
With their quarter-mile of pillars growing little in the distance--
It is good for me to be here!
The Zeppelins and Gothas they raid over us.
Our lights give warning, and fade over us.
(Seven thousand women keeping quiet in the darkness!)
Oh, it's good for me to be here.
The roofs and the buildings they grow round me,
Eating up the fields I used to know round me;
And the shed that I began in is a sub-inspector's office--
So long have I been here!
I've seen six hundred mornings make our lamps grow dim,
Through the bit that isn't painted round our sky-light rim,
And the sunshine through the window slope according to the seasons,
Twice since I've been here.
The trains on the sidings they call to us
With the hundred thousand blanks that they haul to us;
And we send 'em what we've finished, and they take it where it's wanted,
For that is why we are here!
Man's hate passes as his love will pass.
God made Woman what she always was.
Them that bear the burden they will never grant forgiveness
So long as they are here!
Once I was a woman, but that's by with me.
All I loved and looked for, it must die with me;
But the Lord has left me over for a servant of the Judgment,
And I serve His Judgments here!
Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a son that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders! Feeds the guns!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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A Thousand Martyrs I Have Made
A thousand Martyrs I have made,
All sacrific'd to my desire;
A thousand Beauties have betray'd,
That languish in resistless Fire.
The untam'd Heart to hand I brought,
And fixt the wild and wandring Thought.
I never vow'd nor sigh'd in vain
But both, thô false, were well receiv'd.
The Fair are pleas'd to give us pain,
And what they wish is soon believ'd.
And thô I talked of Wounds and Smart,
Loves Pleasures only toucht my Heart.
Alone the Glory and the Spoil
I always Laughing bore away;
The Triumphs, without Pain or Toil,
Without the Hell, the Heav'n of Joy.
And while I thus at random rove
Despise the Fools that whine for Love.
poem by Aphra Behn
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Counterfeit
When you stay before my eyes
You make me feel your love is firm,
But out of sight how different you are!
How long does false gold shine?
Master of sweetness, I know your ways.
Your heart is counterfeit.
Your love is words.
Speech, love and humor
All are smooth
And only meant to tease
When you shed a girl,
Do you laugh?
Are your arrows always
Poisoned with honey?
poem by Vidyapati Thakur
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Love's Logic [Couplet Sonnet]
The more ways I find to express my love,
The more I love you, and the better for love,
And more: What more than seek such ways to it;
Expressing love (and therefore to do it) .
And if my love should make me false I would,
For better no false-love than mere falsehood.
How then is love (which others call) more proved
Than mine is? And not merely false-love's truth?
Where love's logic meets between false or not
No arguments have heard but have forgot
That love is truth - and none is love more false
Than proof; So this I swear on life and pulse:
That infinite love's true call expresses
Love is something more than proof professes.
-September 20 2005
poem by David Zvekic
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Madden Me Not
To madden me is enviable by some,
Artificial wit is the cause of all guilt;
My strange complexion speaks my tone,
And the voice has been inherited.
Our minds are incompatible and unsafe
According to the laws of politics.
One lad defies us now in speech,
To madden it is to estrange them beyond belief.
An incomplete soul is a life too toned
In the disbelief unachievable and desperate.
May logic still weep on the lines I have found
To be the true words of the sort I call at home.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Us Two, We
Can we flee just you and me
to a place where we belong
where we, us two, we can be happy and free
where no one can hear our love song
where we can be hidden
from eyes outside
where no one can catch us even if they tried
oh how lovely it would be
if it were only you and me
Just us two, we...perhaps in the sea
oh yes the sea, that will do nicely
now come my love it's time to flee
away from land we shall go
into the sea we venture
moving with the current's flow
Just us two, we...at peace in the sea
and one we will be
in our palace under the sea
just you and me, us, two, we
poem by Mariah Williams
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Is This Call Pain
standing here across the see
the sea waves crash the rocks and end in the end
the clouds passing by and get over again
a day end with no coming back again
i wander to my self why my pain will never end
see new life coming and never come the same again
see old man dying and never line again
year in life passing by and never come again
i ask my self why my pain never leave me
why my pain never end
is it me the pain
is what i am made of the pain
suffer and endure all my life
what i am mistaking
nails tear my heart
evil wispier in my ears
healing is never use to me
Gods healing useless any more
every thing end except pain
every thing is false except pain
pain of my heart pain of my soul
i am living with pain i am the pain
poem by Aryabod Siharyvani
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Bredon Hill
In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear.
Here of a Sunday morning
My love and I would lie,
And see the coloured counties,
And hear the larks so high
About us in the sky.
The bells would ring to call her
In valleys miles away:
'Come all to church, good people;
Good people, come and pray.
But here my love would stay.
And I would turn and answer
Among the springing thyme,
'Oh, peal upon our wedding,
And we will hear the chime,
And come to church in time.
But when the snows at Christmas
On Bredon top were strewn,
My love rose up so early
And stole out unbeknown
And went to church alone.
They tolled the one bell only,
Groom there was none to see,
The mourners followed after,
And so to church went she,
And would not wait for me.
The bells they sound on Bredon,
And still the steeples hum.
'Come all to church, good people,' -
Oh, noisy bells, be dumb;
I hear you, I will come.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Wisdom after Victory
Now comes to an end all our dolorous drifting;
Clouds pass away and depression is lifting.
Because we were wise in our planning and sought
The lesser of ills that the greater be fought
Hope springs again in the heart of the nation;
Because we were brave and accepted oblation
Of sharp sacrifice, now comes recompense near
With the dawn of our glorious Centenary year.
For the good of our souls have we borne the dark sorrows
Of that gloomy day which buys many bright morrows;
For the good of our land have we chosen to shun
The glittering sand, that real treasure be won.
And we who were counted the prodigal nation
Have won new renown by our self-immolation
And the lands of the earth now in wonder behold
This youngest of lands in grave wisdom grown old.
And now we return with new heart to our labor,
And, where gloom was rife, neighbor smiles upon neighbor;
And now comes, to light our Centenary year
Not the dawn of false hope ever followed by fear
But a dawn that shall last and wax ever in brightness,
Bringing strength to the weak: to the heavy heart, lightness.
Bringing hope to the fearful and ending dismay.
Because we have chosen the fighter's hard way.
Then let us not squander our hardly-won treasure
In pursuit of false joys and enfeebling leisure.
Tried in the fire, we have proven our worth:
We have proven our strength to the peoples of earth.
If courage in ill days has won us salvation,
So wisdom in good days shall flee the temptation
To seek prosperity vain, foolish things.
Let us husband the gifts our Centenary brings.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Indoctrination
Why all this confusion
This lies is destroying the nation
I call this indoctrination
How can a tree be planted on a rock
The eagle and lion cannot flock
Neither can the chicken and the hawk
He pretends life is sweeter
And forces me to fell it sweetness
Even though it feels bitter
You skillful trickster
Yes indeed, take heed
For at the end
Your caucus will the beast feed
You have saw an evil seed
And God will reward you
According to your deeds
You evil creator
Your are a false pretender
poem by Matt Ancient
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The Temperance Army
Though you see no banded army,
Though you hear no cannons rattle,
We are in a mighty contest,
We are fighting a great battle.
We are few, but we are right:
And we wage the holy fight,
Night and day, and day and night.
If we do not fail or falter,
If we do not sleep or slumber,
We shall win in this great contest,
Though the foe is twice our number.
This the burden of our song,
'We are few, but we are strong,
And right must triumph over wrong.'
O my sisters! O my brothers!
There is death all round about us.
Must we, then, sit down discouraged?
Will you let the wine-cup rout us?
Hear the drunkard's awful wail!
See the mourners, bowed and pale!
Will you, coward, then say 'fail'?
Say not that your heart is with us
When you do not help or aid us.
All who love the cause sincerely
Can do something: God has made us
Tongues to talk with: you can say
Something, if you will, each day,
That will help us on our way,
Though you are not highly gifted,
Though you are not bard or poet,
Though you cannot preach or lecture,
You can love the cause, and show it
Boldly, in each thing you do.
Seeking all that's pure and true,
This will be a help from you.
You can say the liquor traffic
Is a curse to any nation;
You can say that prohibition
Is a blessing and salvation.
You can sow good seeds, and, though
You may never see them grow,
They will not be lost, I know.
In this mighty temperance contest,
Where no guns or cannons rattle,
Though you cannot lead the army
Or be chieftain of the battle,
With that mighty sword, the tongue,
You can fight against the wrong,
You can sing some temperance song.
Say not that you cannot aid us!
Drops of water make the river-
Make the mighty Mississippi,
That flows on hand on for ever.
Every word you say for Right
Gives us courage, gives us might,
And brings nearer, morn and night.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Libertine
A THOUSAND martyrs I have made,
All sacrificed to my desire,
A thousand beauties have betray'd
That languish in resistless fire:
The untamed heart to hand I brought,
And fix'd the wild and wand'ring thought.
I never vow'd nor sigh'd in vain,
But both, tho' false, were well received;
The fair are pleased to give us pain,
And what they wish is soon believed:
And tho' I talk'd of wounds and smart,
Love's pleasures only touch'd my heart.
Alone the glory and the spoil
I always laughing bore away;
The triumphs without pain or toil,
Without the hell the heaven of joy;
And while I thus at random rove
Despise the fools that whine for love.
poem by Aphra Behn
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Shake, Rattle & Roll
(words & music by calhoun)
Well get out of that bed, wash your face and hands
Get out of that bed, wash your face and hands
Well get in that kitchen
Make some noise with the pots and pans
I believe it to my soul youre the devil in nylon hose
I believe it to my soul youre the devil in nylon hose
For the harder I work the faster my money goes
Well I said shake, rattle and roll
I said shake rattle and roll
I said shake, rattle and roll
I said shake rattle and roll
Well you wont do right
To save your doggone soul
Shake rattle and roll
Im like the one-eyed cat peeping in a seafood store
Im like the one-eyed cat peeping in a seafood store
Well I can look at you tell you aint no child no more
I believe youre doing me wrong and now I know
I believe youre doing me wrong and now I know
cause the harder I work the faster my money goes
Well I said shake, rattle and roll
I said shake rattle and roll
I said shake, rattle and roll
I said shake rattle and roll
Well you wont do right
To save your doggone soul
Play it again!
I went over the hill, way down underneath
I went over the hill, way down underneath
You make me roll my eyes
And then you make me grit my teeth
Well I said shake, rattle and roll
I said shake rattle and roll
I said shake, rattle and roll
I said shake rattle and roll
Well you wont do right
To save your doggone soul
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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