Wondring Again
Theres the stillness of death on a deathly unliving sea,
And the motor car magical world long since ceased to be,
When the eve-bitten apple returned to destroy the tree.
Incestuous ancestrys charabanc ride,
Spawning new millions throws the world on its side.
Supporting their far-flung illusion, the national curse,
And those with no sandwiches please get off the bus.
The excrement bubbles,
The centurys slime decays
And the brainwashing government lackeys
Would have us say
Its under control and well soon be on our way
To a grand year for babies and quiz panel games
Of the hot hungry millions youll be sure to remain.
The natural resources are dwindling and no one grows old,
And those with no homes to go to, please dig yourself holes.
We wandered through quiet lands, felt the first breath of snow.
Searched for the last pigeon, slate grey Ive been told.
Stumbled on a daffodil which she crushed in the rush, heard it sigh,
And left it to die.
At once felt remorse and were touched by the loss of our own,
Held its poor broken head in her hands,
Dropped soft tears in the snow,
And its only the taking that makes you what you are.
Wondring aloud will a son one day be born
To share in our infancy
In the childs path weve worn.
In the aging seclusion of this earth that our birth did surprise
Well open his eyes.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
For my country
What can I do or pray for my country?
Millions are starving and remain hungry
Precious time and money is spent on storage
The food grain is thrown away as garbage
We watch the show as very much disgusting
It is rotting in open ground and rusting
Not a single soul is raising voice
Where the words have gone with promises?
Plenty of grain is available
We can preserve stock and are capable
We do nothing to prevent the loss
We simply pray for only curse
Forget about economy and figures
What is in store for future?
How long you want people should die?
Do we have no remorse to feel shy?
We want to turn state into Welfare Empire
World is watching with and cutting satire
We are making it living hell for the poor
They have no place to go and find no door
Land grabbers and hoarders are enjoying heaven
Far cry and agony is not heard even
Politician make far reaching cry and remain silent
Humanity is on wane and completely absent
They see more profits in deaths
Even flowers have markets to lay wreath
Nothing is cheap and what is more ion demand?
All inferior quality products with famous brands
Who make take us to safety without tall promises?
When the loop holes will be filled with all the misses?
Earth has responded well with our sweat toil
Why are we hell bent upon to spoil?
Many more may die in days to come
Prices will be sky rocketing and welcomed
Death may welcome than living on ground
Is there any new formula to make for us or to be found?
Let us do no more curses?
We must feel ashamed of ourselves
How many millions more we would love to accumulate?
When your own existence has nothing to take credit or relate?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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In A Fair World
I cannot empathize with the poor since I'm not in poverty
And I can only imagine how miserable life must be
For those who go to sleep hungry they live with death each day
In a fair World this would not be it would be fair to say.
In a fair World this would not be but all in life's not fair
And thousands are in poverty for every millionaire
In third World Countries every year millions of hunger die
The crops don't grow in rain starved lands, the parched earth far too dry.
In a fair World there would be enough food to go around
And not one hungry person in the whole World to be found
But there is only hunger where poverty reside
And the gap between the haves and have nots has never been so wide.
In a fair World there would not be want and need and very little crime
But the social gap keeps widening despite the march of time
And I who have never lived in the slums or in a third World Land
What it feels like to be really poor could never understand.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Alive In The World
I want to live in the world, not inside my head
I want to live in the world, I want to stand and be counted
With the hopeful and the willing
With the open and the strong
With the voices in the darkness
Fashioning daylight out of song
And the millions of lovers
Alive in the world
I want to live in the world, not behind some wall
I want to live in the world, where I will hear if another voice should call
To the prisoner inside me
To the captive of my doubt
Who among his fantasies harbors the dream of breaking out
And taking his chances
Alive in the world
To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world
With its beauty and its cruelty
With its heartbreak and its joy
With it constantly giving birth to life and to forces that destroy
And the infinite power of change
Alive in the world
To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world
To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Millions Do Live In Poverty
That millions do live in poverty should never be seen as okay
The gap between the haves and the have nots keeps getting bigger by the day
Everyone should have the chance to live happy a home to live in and enough for to eat
There never should be slums and ghettos and never a poverty street,
That millions are born to live in poverty and to end their hard lives in despair
Only tells us if there's a god that god favours the wealthy and that god is not very fair
To leave millions homeless and dying of malnutrition the people condemned to die poor and young
In the refugee camps of the World live the displaced, the poor and unsung,
In the age of celebrity worship the poor in millions multiply
Why millions are destined to be poor don't ask me I wouldn't know why
Even in the World's wealthiest Countries poor people are no longer rare
And millions and millions of have nots in the bigger World out there
And millions are dying of hunger and millions are doing it tough
And millions are displaced and homeless and as refugees living it rough.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Little Born
I rememebred my little born
It has left me shocked and torn
He is no more in this lovely world
He breathed for a while and left us in cold
I remembered how my parent had felt
When someone had died in the family left
It was leaving behind great shock and despair
A vaccume never to be filed or a loss repaired
Today I am head of the family and responsible person
I will never go sad without any reason
Small problems will not bother me at all
I shall deal it as and when they make call
If someone takes birth in family, it is different joy
We have lot more to celebrate and enjoy
We may plan who new born is to be treated
But more important is how far we are happy and elated
It is not in our hand to avoid the natural mishaps
It may be some kind of accident or early death
It causes concern and deep grief
Even though we may try to over come to get relief
What drives me desperately to go little wild?
Why almighty is not little kind?
Why new born must be taken away immediately upon birth?
Why is it so essential to pronounce him with death?
There may be ideal place for soul to rest
It is somewhat considered as best
No one comes there to disturb
It is nice, essential and superb
It makes me to think about futility
It is one kind of deterrence but to reach divinity
That is nice gift almighty has arranged
We are all to be aware of it and reconciled
My grief is over the loss of child
But desperation driving me wild
It becomes unbearable when new born is not even taking a breath
The baby is snatched away cruelly by the death
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Song Of The Evergreens
Listen to the briskly whistling winter evergreen
Whispering through the frozen morning light
And tell me whats to come
Saying my time is near
Never fear
I close each year
Im winter
Reminding me to trade my t-shirts for my woven wools
Trade my sandals for my skis
Whispered warnings in the wind
Saying soon come the dancing snowflakes
Theyre kissing every tree
Theyre kissing you and me
Please hurry
Falling
Dazzling dancing diamonds from the sky
Prisms
Rainbow sparkled flurries in our eyes
Whipping across the frozen crystal meadow
Pond of ice
Race the snow
Well build a warming fire there
And cuddle close and wine and dine
The setting sun
The morning light will find us high
Shooting down the glistening mountain side
Screaming through the whispering pines
The freedom of each day
Will cleanse our minds
I can hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
I can hardly hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Untouched by Grace, but not by Snow
Waking up, noticing the ground
To my surprise I am surround by snow
Every detail in which was lay
With perfect precise wonder
In this most daring betray of beauty
And all is quiet
All is so annoyingly quiet
The dirt that is covered peeks through the ground
Destroying what was once beauty
That was pronounced by the glistened snow
And all I can do is wonder
How this world become simple to lay
When sleep takes us on we lay
And all is deeply quiet
Our dreams become our wonder
Weather we stand on solid ground
An undefined map layer out by snow
Creates to us sleeping beauty
But what is this beauty?
And where does it lay?
What is understood to be a lie as white as snow
And all has become a false quiet
Life, which puts our burdens to the ground
And here we are left to wonder
To whom to we place our wonder
The one who holds onto your beauty?
Who picks you up off the ground
And will be contempt as you lay
This is the lovely quiet
Dawn, of our love as pure as snow
To ask what is this snow
Pure, grace, love to which we wonder
Making this moment freeze in quiet
Holding unto this betrayed beauty
Which pours unto us as we lay
To the emissive ground
To become as pure as snow is beauty
But do we wonder under stars we lay?
And all was quiet as the snow flake touched ground
Love, Dreaming of Death
I dreamt my little boys were dead
And I was sitting wild and lone;
On closed unmoving knees my head
Lay rigid as a stone.
And thus I sat without a tear,
And though I drew life’s painful breath,
All life to me seemed cold and drear,
And comfortless as death:
Sat on the earth as on a bier,
Where loss and ruin lived alone,
Without the comfort of a tear—
Without a passing groan.
And there was stillness everywhere,
Ensphering one wide sense of woe;
The stillness of a world’s despair,
Whose tides had ceased to flow.
Yea, so eternal seemed my grief,
Time moved out, neither slow nor fast,
Nor recked I whether periods brief
Or centuries had passed.
It was as if to marble cold
My loss had petrified the air,
And I was shut within its hold,
Made deathless by despair.
Made deathless in a world of death,
There ever sitting wild and lone,
With all but one pent painful breath
Transmutted into stone.
And more the gorgon horror crushed
With dry petrific pressure in,
Till forth my waking spirit rushed
With agonizing din!
And oh! What joy it was to wake—
To cast that haggard dream away,
And from its stony influence break
Into the living day!
I sought the objects of my care,
And felt, while I embraced the twain,
How much even from a dream’s despair
A father’s love may gain.
When this dream-record long ago
I penned, how little did I deem
That yet a distant coming woe
Was shadowed in its theme.
For ah! Of that beloved twain,
The lips of one, then warm with breath,
I since have kissed unkissed again,
For they were cold in death.
A swift wild death! And when I think
Of all that I have lost thereby,
My heart hath pangs that seem to drink
All Mara’s waters dry;
Yea, pangs that would my life destroy,
Did faith not whisper oft between:
“Peace! Sire of an immortal boy
Beyond this mortal scene.”
poem by Charles Harpur
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Five Years
Pushing thru the market square, so many mothers sighing
News had just come over, we had five years left to cry in
News guy wept and told us, earth was really dying
Cried so much his face was wet, then I knew he was not lying
I heard telephones, opera house, favourite melodies
I saw boys, toys electric irons and t.v.s
My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare
I had to cram so many things to store everything in there
And all the fat-skinny people, and all the tall-short people
And all the nobody people, and all the somebody people
I never thought Id need so many people
A girl my age went off her head, hit some tiny children
If the black hadnt a-pulled her off, I think she would have killed them
A soldier with a broken arm, fixed his stare to the wheels of a cadillac
A cop knelt and kissed the feet of a priest, and a queer threw up at the sight of that
I think I saw you in an ice-cream parlour, drinking milk shakes cold and long
Smiling and waving and looking so fine, dont think
You knew you were in this song
And it was cold and it rained so I felt like an actor
And I thought of ma and I wanted to get back there
Your face, your race, the way that you talk
I kiss you, youre beautiful, I want you to walk
Weve got five years, stuck on my eyes
Five years, what a surprise
Weve got five years, my brain hurts a lot
Five years, thats all weve got
Weve got five years, what a surprise
Five years, stuck on my eyes
Weve got five years, my brain hurts a lot
Five years, thats all weve got
Weve got five years, stuck on my eyes
Five years, what a surprise
Weve got five years, my brain hurts a lot
Five years, thats all weve got
Weve got five years, what a surprise
Weve got five years, stuck on my eyes
Weve got five years, my brain hurts a lot
Five years, thats all weve got
Five years
Five years
Five years
Five years
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Do These People Think They Are
Who do these people think they are they take far more than they give?
They rule the World through their Bureaucracies and they tell us how to live
The tycoons of the twenty first century their financial nest egg grow and grow
In a World where millions live in poverty of poverty they do not wish to know.
They believe in free markets and their pet subject free trade
And in their dealings with Third World Countries millions in money they have made
But they do not believe in the free movement of people or in homes for refugees
When confronted with these subjects they do seem ill at ease.
They control big Government and tell them what to do
And that money speaks all languages so happens to be true
And whilst they grow rich and richer and more financially secure
The have nots of the World so sad to say grow poor.
Who do these people think they are for to satisfy their greed
They take and take and too few of them think of those who are in need
And most of the World's assets with the very wealthy few
And the poor keep getting poorer only happens to be true.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Song of snow ranges
Song of snow ranges
Far from home, towering peaks and white slopes,
I gaped as sun rays quietly danced on snow;
Folded hands piously as mountains prayed.
Some clouds glowing, in bluest sky did sail.
Sun had traced patterns, myriad shape and size.
Shaded my eyes, with my hand, feeling a bit blind.
The rays diffused as the sun slowly climbed;
A glimpse of folks, perhaps of an ancient tribe…
A raven perched on far off hallowed peak;
It didn't seem to move or open its beak.
Heavens must have opened up while I slept,
In white satin sheets was draped rough terrain.
It was still, till I heard temple bell ring,
Resonate through the contemplating hills.
Despite layers of clothes my skin felt cold,
For what I heard, had never been fore told.
Snow leopard stepped out of a crevice
Eyes on summit, whiskers with thin ice stiff.
Winter shimmered in a mantle pristine
Snow ranges sang of progress of pilgrims.
Snow still soft, rolled it globe like in my hands.
Far from home, I felt at peace with myself.
Went on my knees, softly started to sing
A long cherished family anthem and hymn.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Two Sonnets
I
SAINTS have adored the lofty soul of you.
Poets have whitened at your high renown.
We stand among the many millions who
Do hourly wait to pass your pathway down.
You, so familiar, once were strange: we tried
To live as of your presence unaware.
But now in every road on every side
We see your straight and steadfast signpost there.
I think it like that signpost in my land
Hoary and tall, which pointed me to go
Upward, into the hills, on the right hand,
Where the mists swim and the winds shriek and blow,
A homeless land and friendless, but a land
I did not know and that I wished to know.
II
Such, such is Death: no triumph: no defeat:
Only an empty pail, a slate rubbed clean,
A merciful putting away of what has been.
And this we know: Death is not Life effete,
Life crushed, the broken pail. We who have seen
So marvellous things know well the end not yet.
Victor and vanquished are a-one in death:
Coward and brave: friend, foe. Ghosts do not say,
"Come, what was your record when you drew breath?"
But a big blot has hid each yesterday
So poor, so manifestly incomplete.
And your bright Promise, withered long and sped,
Is touched; stirs, rises, opens and grows sweet
And blossoms and is you, when you are dead.
poem by Charles Hamilton Sorley
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God's Christmas Tree
The traveler told me,
That He had walked far.
And He knew,
He had not much father to go,
Than He asked me,
Did I see the Christmas tree,
With a bright star,
covered in blankets of snow,
Fighting for life,
against nature and man's war.
Needing to find peace for the soul,
Touched by a angel's tear.
Standing alone out in the cold.
Once there was a little Christmas tree,
Adorned with a heavenly star,
Covered with soft blankets of snow,
every year,
The little tree would grow.
Sometime someone would come along.
Leaving footprints in the falling snow,
When they are far from home,
Somewhere out in the cold.
They could see the star on the tree,
Covered with soft blankets of snow.
The little Christmas tree seems to glow.
Decorated By God's hand.
A gift for every man.
A soft light,
in the dark night,
Offering peace for the soul.
See God's Christmas tree,
Adorned with a heavenly star,
A reminder of love,
A star from above,
For the world to see.
God's Christmas tree.
He didn't choose the tallest.
tree in the forest.
He saw that little tree stand alone.
A place where the soul can rest,
While the traveler walks home.
Did you see?
God's Christmas tree.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
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How Long
When you look into a childs face
And youre seeing the human race
And the endless possibilities there
Where so much can come true
And you think of the beautiful things
A child can do
How long -- would the child survive
How long -- if it was up to you
When you think about the money spent
On defense by a government
And the weapons of destruction weve built
Were so sure that we need
And you think of the millions and millions
That money could feed
How long -- can you hear someone crying
How long -- can you hear someone dying
Before you ask yourself why?
And how long will we hear people speaking
About missiles for peace
And just let it go by
How long will they tell us these weapons
Are keeping us free
Thats a lie
If you saw it from a satellite
With its green and its blue and white
The beauty of the curve of the earth
And its oceans below
You might think it was paradise
If you didnt know
You might think that its turning
But its turning so slow
How long -- can you hear someone crying
How long -- can you hear someone dying
Before you ask yourself why?
And how long will it be till weve turned
To the tasks and the skills
That well have to have learned
If were going to find our place in the future
And have something to offer
Where this planets concerned
How long?
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thought Broadcasting
Silence is a silver ship
Traveling at the speed of the darkness,
Black holes are the edifices in which I
Build my thoughts-
Word by word,
Each and every syllable forms upon my lips,
And then broadcasted, aloud-
Thoughts are killers- thoughts can harm-
My thoughts can be heard from afar.
Within this room I write my thoughts
With a pen that is void of ink, or a pencil
That has no lead,
Invisible they are, but somehow,
These thoughts are broadcasted aloud.
Thoughts are killers thoughts control-
My thoughts can be heard from afar.
A silver ship with its sail to the wind,
A wild horse that canters across vast terrain, or
Pebbles that roll off of my fingertips,
That splash into the creek, one by one,
You can see, you can hear, as
My thoughts, broadcasted aloud.
My thoughts can be heard from afar.
My thoughts are a flame that only I can quench.
I am in control of what comes into my mind,
As my hands build the world from
The bricks of Time,
My thoughts control the world.
My thinking destroys those, whom I abhor,
My thoughts control the downtrodden.
Silence is a silver ship, or
The dome beneath which I dwell-
I build my edifice beneath this dome.
No one dares to enter, as
I have broadcasted a message to the world,
My eyes order the world away;
My thoughts are broadcasted aloud,
A bad thought can destroy, as good ones
Create and control,
My thoughts control the world…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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So Many Poor Souls And Not Many Who Care
So many poor souls and not many who care
Are doing it quite tough in the big World out there
The homeless and hungry teenagers of poverty street
Are searching in rubbish bins for something to eat
The gap is increasing in the social divide
And millions are Stateless and Homeless and hungry World wide
The victims of droughts and wars and disease
In the refugee camps millions of refugees.
The marginalized are doing it quite tough
On poverty street they are sleeping rough
People should not have to go hungry in the World of today
But such is not the case that does seem sad to say
For one wealthy person thousands in poverty
Those who need far more than words of sympathy
People who look old before they reach their life's prime
To be born to poor parents is their only crime.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Sound of Snow
The sound of snow......
it is all of these together
or separately
or combined
and sometimes
none of them at all,
like a dark still night
where sound just doesn't belong.
....it is a kitten landing on a feather pillow,
a single thin piece of paper
floating from side to side
then settling on the ground in one graceful slide,
it is a wind through a spider's web,
long silk hair tussled by a breeze
....snow is not silent it is discrete,
hiding in the open
....a three year old's sleeping breath,
a tear of joy escaping down a red round cheek
....the sound of snow is
the moment between sleep and consciousness,
fuzzy and both empty of thought and full of promise all at once,
snow is the sound dreams would make if we heard them while awake,
snow is the sound an angel makes as it guides a soul to rest.
The sound of snow
...it's all of these together
or separately
or combined
and sometimes
none of them at all.
Millions
We smelled your soup on the fire cooking
We saw your toys and your pencils looking bright
So bright and yet they come from oh so far away
We heard your flags and your banners flapping
We felt the air from from your hands all clapping time
In time, Im sure your time is not so far away
Millions, all moving forward
Millions, all babbling crossword
Millions, all flow at water
Millions, all bright with laughter
He make you glowing
He bake you golden like the yangtse mud
I saw your writing on paper landing
Your stamps showed bridges and temples standing still
So still, and yet theyre standing oh so far away
I saw you asking for western thinking
I say its poison that youll be drinking
Stay as east, as far away as dreams will let you be
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Finding
you found me broken and bleeding
left to die in the middle of the floor
you walked through my blood
mended my heart and helped me up
you put a bandana around my bleeding wrists
you held my hand as we walked through the mist
crushed and broken my world was
everything you touched darkend and died
thats the way i like it
you brought my blood red moon and river back
and my dead trees and black roses
surprise surprise my world is dark again
it makes me happy to know that you care
to know that you love me
and want me cause i love it when you stare
poem by Sandy Vanity
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Painted Veil
Millions of bubbles; bubbles, bubbles, bubbles.
Who could have thought that so small
could be the curse of all,
and source of all our troubles?
Microscopic seeds
encasing nuclei of fire.
Each germinates and breeds
subtle filaments of desire.
Desire slides in and overpowers,
making our best intentions fail
and weaves the warp and weft of the painted veil
which shrouds this world which is not ours.
Lift it?
It proliferates with every minute.
See?
Our eyes are trapped within it.
The world?
The world's a vast, empty machine
which thunders on,
blunders on,
silent and unseen.
poem by Brian Taylor
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