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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Related quotes
Native Son
Ive seen many moons through these wrinkled eyes
The years have made me old but theyve made me wise
Now the white man lives where our rivers run
For now better days have passed
We walk the streets of broken glass
Our people vanished as snow before the summer sun
Like dogs we were driven from this place
Such injustice, time will not erase
All these changes cannot be undone
When you feel the anger inside of you
Hold your head high - let your aim be true
Though your heart beats like a drum
My native son
Once there was a time my little one
Before the wagons - before the soldiers guns
When this land was ours as far as the eagle flies
No white flag - no broken truce
With few words one can speak the truth - I dont hear it
Time wont heal it now
With each new day that comes to pass
Will the great spirit free us all at last?
He said we were the chosen ones
For all we had theres nothin left
We wont forgive - we cant forget
You know that your day will come
My native son
With each new day that comes to pass
Will the great spirit free us all at last?
What has happened can never be undone
When I was young - not yet a man
The sun rose and set upon our land
We were the chosen ones
My native son
song performed by by Bryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The True American Indian
Like a warrior I stand
brave and strong
and my wisdom
is like the mighty chief
my words are wise
that I speak
as I follow the vision
that is my destiny
to protect this sacred land
My soul is one with the wolf
and my Spirit is with the wind
I will never turn my back
on my Spiritual belief
but will fight for who are weak
from those who are wrong
in their ways of the white man
I will not run and hide
from the suffering and pain
that you conflict
in times that are black
I am a chosen one
a face you will never forget
in these days to come
And just like the rising sun
my people will rise again
in the end
we will walk free
for we are
the true American Indian
(Spiritwind-2010)
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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Well Its True That We Love One Another
Well its true that we love one another
I love jack white like a little brother
Well holly I love you too but theres
Just so much that I dont know about you
Jack give me some money to pay my bills
All the dough I give you holly
You been using on pain pills
Jack will you call me if youre able?
I got your phone number written
In the back of my bible
Jack I think your pulling my leg
And I think maybe I better ask meg
Meg do you think jack really loves me?
You know, I dont care because
Jack really bugs me
Why dont you ask him now?
Well I would meg
I really just dont know how
Just say jack , do you adore me?
Well I would holly but love really bores me
Well maybe we should just be friends
Im just kidding holly
You know that Ill love you til the end
Well its true that we love one another
I love jack white like a little brother
Well holly I love you too but theres
Just so much that I dont know about you
Holly give me some of your english lovin
If I did that jack Id have one in the oven
Why dont you go off and just love yourself
If I did that holly there wont be anything
Left for anybody else
Jack its too bad about the way you look
You know I gave that horse a carrot
So hed break your foot
Will the two of you cut it out
And tell em what its really all about
Well its true that we love one another
I love jack white like a little brother
Well holly I love you too but theres
Just so much that I dont know about you
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's True That We Love One Another
Well its true that we love one another
I love Jack White like a little brother
Well Holly I love you too but theres just so much
That I dont know about you
Jack give me some money to pay my bills
All the dough I give you Holly
You been using on pain pills
Jack will you call me if youre able?
I got your phone number written
In the back of my bible
Jack I think youre pulling my leg
And I think maybe Id better ask Meg
Meg do you think Jack really loves me?
You know, I dont care because Jack really bugs me
Why dont you ask him now?
Well I would but Meg, I really just dont know how
Just say Jack, do you adore me?
Well I would Holly but love really bores me
Well maybe we should just be friends
Im just kidding Holly
You know that Ill love you til the end
Well its true that we love one another
I love Jack White like a little brother
Well Holly I love you too but theres just so much
That I dont know about you
Holly give me some of your
English lovin
If I did that Jack Id have one in
the oven
Why dont you go off and love yourself
If I did that Holly there
wont be anything left
For anybody else
Jack its too bad
About the way that you look
You know I gave that horse a carrot
So hed break your foot
Will the two of you cut it out
And tell em what Its really all about
Well its true that we love one another
I love Jack White like a little brother
Well Holly I love you too
But theres just so much
That I dont know about you
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The British descended
The British descended
on the Transvaal and Orange Free State
from their island
on the other side of the sea
and in thousands
they came to ruin the land.
The British descended
on the Transvaal and Orange Free State
and from the sea they came
and an entire empire
send its soldiers to destroy,
to pillage and scorch the earth,
to rape, and imprison
the women and children
of the Afrikaner nation.
My great grandfathers rode on horseback to war,
with Christiaan De Wet, Cronje
and De La Rey
and they fought hard pressed,
to drive the British
and soldiers from all her colonies away.
My great grandfathers rode on horseback to war
and landed in prisoner of war camps in St. Helena
and although the second Anglo-Boer war was lost
and the Afrikaner nation paid the highest cost
in the destruction of the land,
the death of men
and the murder of innocent women and children,
a time came
that once more we were free.
My great grandfathers rode on horseback to war,
but one was from and with the enemy
and a highlander was he
and a more decent man
is still hard to find
and one that hated the English
for the dreadfull things that they did,
at times I see the restored Martini Henri rifles
taken from the British
during that bitter war
and the legacy and great spirit,
of my great grandfathers
still stays with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Avalanche-the White Death
The land is white
The name of the land brings you
to the land of nothing
The name is white
The white is dead
Sun shines pale, the land shades full of pain
Avalea doesn't bloom and fall in this drain
I'm going back alive again
But no one's crying for the dead
The land is still white
Ice and snow are still the same as yesterday
But the wind is stronger in the sorrow
The land is white
The white is dead
They weep wherever they blow
Forever love, cursed land
Forever goodbye, my lovely land
No more tears falling in this land
Even the sand doesn't know
why he doesn't round to anywhere
The land has frozen like stone
The air is blowed dead
The land is white
The name is white
The land called white is dead
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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A Zimbabwean asks a question
O Great Spirit,
You who in Your form of the Chapungu,
the great eagle with sharper eye than any aeroplane,
watches over us and knows all things;
who even descends from your great circles of flight
over our beautiful land of stone and earth and tree
to show a child lost in the bush
the way back to the village and to home,
please show us, too, the way back home, to You.
You know I talk to you each day in my heart,
but today a man has asked me to speak some words
that many people may hear.
So I speak for Zimbabwe, and for the Africa
of which we are so proud:
for we in Africa are proud; and proud for You:
that in a mad and busy world, we have not forgotten
that every blade of grass and flower,
lizard, singing bird, lion, elephant,
are You in all your great disguises
and that all that we see around us
is You in the spirits of our ancestors
who listen to us and guide us;
and so we know that we must listen
to every creature to hear news of You...
and in the evening of each day
(which, we cannot now forget, may be our last)
as the men come home from work
and the women and children back from the fields,
and the smoke from the evening fires
rises above the huts,
and the smells of cooking fill the air,
we tell all our children round the fire
the truth about You
in all the tales our fathers and grandfathers have told us -
told to these children who have so recently come from You;
by those grandparents who will so soon come back to You;
they have so much to share and listen to,
about You!
And would you not agree, O Great Spirit,
that the smile of an African child
is the biggest thing you ever saw - or made?
It reminds every mother and father of Your smile,
and tells every grandparent what is in store for them...
So we rejoice to think, O Great Spirit,
that we are still your children,
and that You know what is best for us -
And so I ask you, especially today, O Great Spirit,
for all who may read this:
Are the spirits angry with us?
If they are, please tell me why?
And so, what can we do to stay close to You?
Many men have many answers to these questions
in the reasoning of men;
but nothing from men quite seems to 'do the trick';
so now, I'm simply asking You
to speak in Your own way;
since nothing from men quite seems to 'do the trick';
and, O Great Spirit,
Chapungu,
it is Your world, which we look after, and not ours...
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad
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America, the Truth
George Washington
did not part the Red Sea,
and lead us into the
Promised Land...
God, not even a white God,
did not tell us to...
slaughter the Native Americans,
and take their lands by force!
we are not the 'chosen people'!
we're just people, people
like all other people
around the world!
first, and foremost,
we are citizens of the world.
any blessing we have received
comes with the responsibility
to share it with the world...
not to force our idealogies
whether for profit or pride...
if we stand for freedom,
it means freedom for all...
regardless of color, creed,
or nationality...
we cannot rise any higher
than our actions...
cannot liberate without
first liberating ourselves...
cannot build a future
without including all
of humanity, great and small!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad 'Aziz Moradabadi'
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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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Children Of The Earth
shaman guardian spirit
is protector of people
protector of sacred land
we must wait for white
men to learn
laws written in sand
by laws of mother nature
respected
must men live upon land
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Prayer To The Great Spirit
Great Spirit hear my call
and teach me of these things
I do not know
let me walk free with the wolf clan
so I may learn their wisdom
through the eyes of our sacred
of your creation
Give me strength to protect and preserve
what we have left of our Mother Earth
make me wise to teach others to follow
the path meant for us to take
by your grace
in this world now out of place
from our human race
I am only but one man
but guide me to help save
what we have taken away
with our ignorance and destruction
bring peace and harmony back again
for many generations to come
to end this misery of pain
so our children will live a life they deserve
Let me bring light into the hearts
of the shallow
and show them the ways of long ago
to walk in footprints of my ancestors
that for many years have softly tread
on the beauty of this precious land
Let these river's run wide and freely flow
with the presence of every touch by your hand
bring back what was for so long dead
let this sun shine on this sacred ground
that is covered in blood flowing red
with our hate and greed
Heal these wounds I bleed
make me a warrior a chosen one
to forever stand proud and tall
when times are hard and tears fall
from what we have done
Show me the way when my people forget
our true purpose and meaning here
so that I may bring better days tomorrow
of yesterdays forever gone
in these times of sorrow
one day we will all soon regret
Let me not walk in fear
in this moment of need
as I ask of your guidance on my vision
and my journey
you had given to me
Spiritwind-2010
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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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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Everything belongs to people
Everything belongs to people
Give back to the people
Give back their land their forest
Their hills mountains rivers
Give back to the people
Earth mines irons etc etc
Everything belongs to the people
Give the people the power
In democracy everything belongs
To people and democracy is
Of the people by the people and
For the people and people are
At the centre of power progress
Prosperity public funds
People are there just to forgive
And forget and do not take
The advantage of their ignorance
made the people know everything
Everything belongs to people
People are the people in this system
And the system depends on you only
You can make it coal
And people are there to group.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Rewi to Grey: The Old Maori Chief’s Last Message
We have lived till these times, brother,
We who lived in this;
We have not grown old together,
Soon our lives must close –
Rewi’s first! For I am dying
Ere I got where all is true
From my heart a wish is flying –
This is my great word to you:
Mine to you and those who love us –
Be they white or brown –
Let there be one stone above is
When they’ve laid us down;
Let us rest together, brother,
When our gods recall us two.
Grant my wish – I have no other:
This is my great word to you.
Let there be one stone above us,
Standing for a sign:
On one side your name be written
On the other mine.
In my heart your name is lying;
We shall meet where all is true –
From y heart this wish is flying
This is my great word to you.
poem by Henry Lawson
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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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Land, Ho!
I know ’tis but a loom of land,
Yet is it land, and so I will rejoice,
I know I cannot hear His voice
Upon the shore, nor see Him stand;
Yet is it land, ho! land.
The land! the land! the lovely land!
‘Far off,’ dost say? Far off—ah, blessèd home!
Farewell! farewell! thou salt sea-foam!
Ah, keel upon the silver sand—
Land, ho! land.
You cannot see the land, my land,
You cannot see, and yet the land is there—
My land, my land, through murky air—
I did not say ’twas close at hand—
But—land, ho! land.
Dost hear the bells of my sweet land,
Dost hear the kine, dost hear the merry birds?
No voice, ’tis true, no spoken words,
No tongue that thou may’st understand—
Yet is it land, ho! land.
It’s clad in purple mist, my land,
In regal robe it is apparellèd,
A crown is set upon its head,
And on its breast a golden band—
Land, ho! land.
Dost wonder that I long for land?
My land is not a land as others are—
Upon its crest there beams a star,
And lilies grow upon the strand—
Land, ho! land.
Give me the helm! there is the land!
Ha! lusty mariners, she takes the breeze!
And what my spirit sees it sees—
Leap, bark, as leaps the thunderbrand—
Land, ho! land.
poem by Thomas Edward Brown
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Mother Sky
Oh great mother of the sky
Hear your children’s cries
They have been taken away
By non tribal hands
To a place far from your eyes
Taken off of federal land
Your children now cry for you
Eighteen of your children missing
Their spirits grow weak
Has they are together trying to reach you
Wishing to be back home
Under your watchful eyes
Oh great mother of the sky
Hear your people’s cries
We wish to have our family
And our friends back home
Investigations continues for your children
The eighteen that are missing
Photograph taken of the site
Now are missing as well
Eighteen children missing
From our holy cemetery
Help us find your missing children
Whose tribe looks endlessly for them
We want them back home
Here in Kingman Arizona
Home of the Hualpai tribe
poem by Davina Vanessa Rivas
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The garment of Africa
We are all fibres making up the fabric of humanity
And only in our unity can we see the garment of destiny
We must remember that we are all inextricably connected
An issue affecting one affects us all unrelated
Some South Africans camouflaged their cultural identity
In an attempt to preserve their economical security
It is time children of this great land
To answer the call and form an unbreakable band
We are one people, in one nation, with one destiny
Aspiring to restore the mother-land to her former glory
Moreover, as children of light
Our responsibility is to brighten our corner with delight
poem by Astell Collins
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