Natives who beat drums to drive off evil spirits are objects of scorn to smart Americans who blow horns to break up traffic jams.
quote by Mary Ellen Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beat! Beat! Drums!
BEAT! beat! drums!--Blow! bugles! blow!
Through the windows--through doors--burst like a ruthless force,
Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation;
Into the school where the scholar is studying;
Leave not the bridegroom quiet--no happiness must he have now with
his bride;
Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, plowing his field or gathering his
grain;
So fierce you whirr and pound, you drums--so shrill you bugles blow.
Beat! beat! drums!--Blow! bugles! blow!
Over the traffic of cities--over the rumble of wheels in the streets:
Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? No sleepers
must sleep in those beds; 10
No bargainers' bargains by day--no brokers or speculators--Would they
continue?
Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?
Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the
judge?
Then rattle quicker, heavier drums--you bugles wilder blow.
Beat! beat! drums!--Blow! bugles! blow!
Make no parley--stop for no expostulation;
Mind not the timid--mind not the weeper or prayer;
Mind not the old man beseeching the young man;
Let not the child's voice be heard, nor the mother's entreaties;
Make even the trestles to shake the dead, where they lie awaiting the
hearses, 20
So strong you thump, O terrible drums--so loud you bugles blow.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Dateline Mesopotamia, 3500 B.C. That's when the multi-faceted sounds we call music got its humble beginnings. It seems clappers were sent out the the fields to scare evil spirits away. These clappers started getting into the beat of their duty and, bingo, you got drums. From there, horns, strings, reeds, the whole orchestral gestalt. So, born in staving off death, music continues to nourish us in a variety of forms as different as the colors of the spectrum.
quote by Jeffrey Vlaming
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Beat Goes On
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Wait till you have reached the age
Blah blah
History has turned the page
Blah blah
We still want to hear a brand new thing
Uh huh
We still need a song to sing
Uh huh
And the beat goes on (6x)
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Love is a thirsting, lasting on my mind
From tomorrow until the end of time
And the beat goes on (4x)
And the beat goes
And the beat goes
And the beat goes on
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
We still move to a rhythm just like this
We still dream of sharing our first kiss
And the beat goes on (4x)
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Well our kids are turning faster everyday (everyday)
We still want to dance the night away
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on...
(to fade)
song performed by by Britney Spears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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and on life's highway
there are many traffic jams
snarling the traffic.
quote by by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crosstown Traffic
You jump in front of my car
When you know all the time
That 90 miles an hour Girl Is the speed I drive
You tell me it's all right
You don't mind a little pain
You say you just want me to take you for a drive
You're just like CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
So hard to get through you CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
I don't need to run over you CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
All you do is slow me down
But I'm tryin' to get on the other side of town
I'm not the only soul who's accused of hit and run
Tire tracks all across your back I can see you've had your fun
But a-darling
Can't you see my signal's turn from green to red
And with you I can see a traffic jam straight ahead
You're just like CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
So hard to get through you CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
I don't need to run over you CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
All you do is slow me down
But I got better things on the other side of town
Yeah Yeah Crosstown traffic
Look out LOOK OUT Look out Baby
Coming through CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
Yeah Yeah Look out CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC
Yeah Yeah LOOK OUT Look out Look out Baby
CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC LOOK OUT YEAH
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Drums of Battersea
They can’t hear in West o’ London, where the worst dine with the best—
Deaf to all save lies and laughter, they can’t hear in London West—
Tailored brutes and splendid harlots, and the parasites that be—
They can’t hear the warning thunder of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Misery—
Beating from the hearts of men—the Drums of Battersea.
Where the hearses hurry ever, and where man lives like a beast,
They can feel the war-drums beating—men of Hell! and London East.
And the far-off foreign farmers, fighting fiercely to be free,
Found new courage in the echo of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Beating for the free—
Beating on the hearts of men—the Drums of Battersea.
And the drummers! Ah! the drummers!—stern and haggard men are those
Standing grimly at their meetings; and their washed and mended clothes
Speak of worn-out wives behind them and of grinding poverty—
But the English of the English beat the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of agony—
The big bruised heart of England’s in the Drums of Battersea.
Where in fields slave Englishwomen, Oh! the sound of drums is there:
I have heard it in the laughter of the nights of Leicester Square—
Sailing southward with the summer, London but a dream to me,
Still I feel the distant thunder of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Liberty—
Rolling round the English world—the Drums of Battersea.
Oh! I heard them in the Queen’s Hall—aye! and London heard that night—
While we formed up round the leaders while they struck one blow for right!
And the old strength, that old fire, that I thought was dead in me,
Blazed up fiercely at the beating of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
They beat for victory—
When above the roar of Jingoes rolled the Drums of Battersea.
And where’er my feet may wander, and howe’er I lay my head,
I shall hear them while I’m dreaming—I shall hear them when I’m dead!
For they beat for men and women, beat for Christ, and you and me:
There is hope and there is terror in the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of destiny—
There’s hope!—there’s hope for England in the Drums of Battersea.
poem by Henry Lawson
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At The Sound Of The Drum
ARE you going for a soldier with your curly yellow hair,
And a scarlet coat instead of the smock you used to wear?
Are you going to drive the foe as you used to drive the plough?
Are you going for a soldier now?
I am going for a soldier, and my tunic is of red
And I'm tired of woman's chatter, and I'll hear the drum instead;
I will break the fighting line as you broke your plighted vow,
For I'm going for a soldier now.
For a soldier, for a soldier are you sure that you will go,
To hear the drums a-beating and to hear the bugles blow?
I'll make you sweeter music, for I'll swear another vow--
Are you going for a soldier now?
I am going for a soldier if you'd twenty vows to make;
You must get another sweetheart, with another heart to break,
For I'm sick of lies and women and the harrow and the plough,
And I'm going for a soldier now!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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My Name Is Reckless
My name is reckless;
I’ve passed my test
so I know how to drive.
I ignore all the honking horns
as I weave through the traffic
in the sports car I bought last week.
I’m the greatest driver
you ever want to meet.
You see my name is reckless;
I’ve passed my test
so I know how to drive.
No one can beat me
as I race down roads everywhere.
The speed limit
mean nothing to me,
that for only learners
Because my name is reckless,
I’ve passed my test
so I know how to drive.
I took my mate out
for a spin to show him all I new.
We raced around the roads.
I’d driven down them before
so I knew them like the back of my hand.
My name is reckless;
I’ve passed my test
so I know how to drive.
As we raced along
an articulated lorry
was stretched across the road.
I knew I could go under it
so I told my mate to duck.
My name is reckless;
I’ve passed my test
so I know how to drive.
My mate didn’t hear me
as the music was so high
so when the roof came off so did my mate as well.
I escaped with minor injuries,
but my mate died at the scene.
They told me they were charging me
with careless driving,
but I soon told then a thing or two.
My name is reckless;
I’ve passed my test
so I know how to drive.
Unfortunately, my statement
didn’t wash with them.
The judge sent me down
for a three-year stretch.
He took away my licence
and threw it in the bin.
I protested saying.
My name is reckless;
I’ve passed my test
so I know how to drive.
poem by David Harris
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Tell It
Tell it horns,
Tell it drums
When they worth less than mules
Bareback on plantations
In the blazing sun.
Tell it whips,
Tell it spits
How flesh burns
How it bleeds.
Tell it seas,
Tell it ships
Lost of the mother-tongue,
Muted songs from the mother-land,
The packing,
The hunger,
The liturgy of death;
The stench;
Tell it.
Tell it earth,
Tell it skies
Of freedom stolen,
Of dignities crowned with scorn.
Tell it abeng,
Tell it spirits
Bodies left for vultures;
An heritage splintered.
Tell it dungeons,
Tell it flies
A sordid history
Of a human race.
Tell it.
poem by Buxton Shippy
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Beat Goes On
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Wait till you have reached the age Blah blah
History has turned the page Blah blah
We still want to hear a brand new thing Uh huh
We still need a song to sing Uh huh
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Love is a thirsting
song performed by by Britney Spears from ...Baby One More Time
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are no traffic jams when you go the extra mile.
City Of Angels
Shafting sunbeams. misty eddies,
towering, sculpted, shining chedis,
thundering traffic, six lane highways,
swampy, shabby, back-street by-ways,
mangoes, sticky rice, dom yams,
squeezed into the Mother of all Traffic Jams…..
www.bamboo-leaves.com
poem by Brian Taylor
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Crosstown Traffic
You jump in front of my car when you,
You know all the time that
Ninty miles an hour, girl, is the speed I drive
You tell me it's alright, you don't mind a little pain
You say you just want me to take you for a ride
You're just like crosstown traffic
So hard to get through to you
Crosstown traffic
I don't need to run over you
Crosstown traffic
All you do is slow me down
And I'm tryin' to get on the other side of town
I'm not the only soul who's accused of hit and run
Tire tracks all across your back
I can see you had your fun
But darlin' can't you see my signals turn from green to red
And with you I can see a traffic jam straight up ahead
You're just like crosstown traffic
So hard to get through to you
Crosstown traffic
I don't need to run over you
Crosstown traffic
All you do is slow me down
And I got better things on the other side of town
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are no traffic jams along the extra mile.
quote by Roger Staubach
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Life Is What It Is
Why do we have to go and face the same routine
And the traffic jams and crowded streets a real
Neurotic scene
I dont know, why do we take it each day, yeah
Why does my girl tell me shes got to
Have her way
Out all night, come home to fight
What am I to say
I dont know, why do we take it each day
Life is what it is
Who wants to try not to believe
Thats the way it is
Oh, oh
I dont know why what you feel inside
Days go on
Love is something that you just cant hide
If its wrong
Then youll want to know, you dont know why
I sing a song
And it helps me yet Ill get by
At times
Lost in time sometimes your mind unwinds
Sun does shine
But no pleasure from your beautys mine
Like champagne wine
A bitter taste thats so refined
Life its fine
You always pay for whats behind
Why do I have to go and face the same routine
And the traffic jams and crowded streets a real
Neurotic scene
I dont know, why do we take it each day, yeah
Life is what it is
Who wants to try not to believe
Thats the way it is
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For instance, if you're playing a record with drums - horns would sound nice to enhance it so you get a record with horns and slip it in at certain times.
quote by Grandmaster Flash
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Dance To The Beat
Dance to the beat of the world
Dance to the beat of the music
Dance to the beat of the floor
Dance to the beat of the drums
Dance to the beat of the rhythm
Dance to the beat of the wall
Dance to the beat of the clock
Dance to the beat of the guitar
Dance to the beat of the table
Dance to the beat of the computer
Dance to the beat of my voice
poem by Daniel Vango
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Crosstown Traffic
You jump in front of my car when you,
You know all the time that
Ninty miles an hour, girl, is the speed I drive
You tell me its alright, you dont mind a little pain
You say you just want me to take you for a ride
Youre just like crosstown traffic
So hard to get through to you
Crosstown traffic
I dont need to run over you
Crosstown traffic
All you do is slow me down
And Im tryin to get on the other side of town
Im not the only soul whos accused of hit and run
Tire tracks all across your back
I can see you had your fun
But darlin cant you see my signals turn from green to red
And with you I can see a traffic jam straight up ahead
Youre just like crosstown traffic
So hard to get through to you
Crosstown traffic
I dont need to run over you
Crosstown traffic
All you do is slow me down
And I got better things on the other side of town
song performed by by Jimi Hendrix
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When a procession marches by
When a procession marches by
with shrilling trumpets, horns
and drums with a muttering beat
and cheer to an unknown god
repeating its name
time and time again
until it resounds in my ear,
I have no fear
and my spirit is clear,
my eye is set
on the sky
to watch if the coming
of Christ draws near.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Are these the Americans? People remain silent and placate the Americans. By God, they only deserve scorn. We slaughtered them yesterday and we will continue to slaughter them.
quote by Mohammed Saeed al-Sahaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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