We are one nation, one blood,
In times of sorrow, we calm each other,
In moments of horror, we cluddle together,
When we slip on the way, we hold each other,
When terror strikes, we defend together,
We are one nation, one blood.
We shed it for each other.
(Dedicated to my beloved Kenya in memory of Westgate attack. In times of difficult we have proved our unit and boundaryless love - God bless Kenya)
Ah love! Those days
Of long harsh winters,
Homemade pickles and dried vegetables;
Surrounding the flaming-high chola
And having kehva with cornbread,
My maternal grands and
In the nights their horror tales:
That world of fairies and giants,
Demons and ape-men;
My mom's dead granduncle's heroic
Catching cleverly the wild hens
By the bushes hatching eggs,
Chasing the fox in snowy forests,
And ambushing behind rocks
The lions slept-for-days in dens!
O! Before the uprising,
Before the guns and grenades,
Was a beautiful--mythical, religious world...
Oh God! Damn the Indians,
Chinese and Paks,
They all have
Together or one by one
Damaged our topography
And destroyed our identity.
Which nation of the world
Do I belong?
I belong to the nation
And freedom for all.
I belong to the nation
Proletariat and aristocracy
Disabled and abled
Woman and man
Young and old
Black and colored
People and nation
Right and rule...
I belong to the nation of peace
Across the land, the sea and the sky.
And peaceful stretch to the arboreal.
And Peace of souls,
Is my strength-
The rhythm that keeps me growing.
Though I was born a Nigerian.
Not I neglects being call
American, Ghanaian, Portuguese
Chinese, Korean, Indian...
Though I'm by virtue
Of land mass
Not do I dismiss
In unison unit
That type me Asian,
I belong to
An old man looking out his door,
gaze fixed on a distant shore,
reminiscing to a time, not of happiness,
or, the prospect of a bright future,
to when he was sick to his very core,
to when as a youth, he went to war
A time before infallibility had meaning,
patriotism and bravado the craze,
the future was still unknown,
vigor for life at its all time high,
a time for romance, partying, buying,
no thought of pain, deformity, dying
Too young to understand or question,
ship to foreign shore, medals abound,
will impress the girls next time in town,
sacrifice not temporary,
a legacy etched into a wall, few will remember,
flesh shredded, burned, torn,
A time, when he willingly went to war,
will happen no more,
all lost in youth, now unrelenting,
no blind obedience,
long life, his number one ambition
As he turns back from the door,
he thinks of the youth,
here now, soon no more,
lessons never learned,
the call to war,
to common the roar,
complacency the mood,
another generation removed
The old man agonizes
over what was originally not known,
war is preventable,
life too precious to waste,
the solution simple,
his vision, maybe too late
Send old men to the front to fight,
arthritis, heart disease, poor eyesight,
let the youth enjoy their life,
his near over, its only right
Send old men, to the front, to fight
ask them to give up their life,
patriotism and bravado, still alive,
will and desire would not last the night,
old men do not rush to death in their twilight,
failure inevitable, the old man smiles,
knows he's right
Wars not possible,
if old men, are sent to fight
The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.
A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.
When patriotism was not just a word
by what men lived and judged the worth of each,
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend.
An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station,
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet.
Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.
What greater honor, that when a man moves forward,
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was.
A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior,
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.
The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now.
Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember,
because he now resides forever in our hearts.
As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye,
as he draws upon his pipe,
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.
I’m from liberty and justice; kindness and sadness.
I’m from freedom and victory; presidential elections and offices.
I’m from celebration of freedom and fireworks; and a wonderful melting pot.
I’m from an eagle and an anthem, which happily plays on.
I’m from life and death, and of people of different descent.
I’m from the Show-Me State, upholding the motto “Salus populi suprema lex esto:”
The welfare of the people shall be supreme law.
I am of the Missouri Waltz, and of an Algonquian Indian word.
I am of farming and mining; aircraft equipment and cars.
I’m from an annexed Jasper County and Newton County; from Methodist congregation and zinc mining.
(A place I can hardly even remember, as it has been changed)
From Route 66, and historical background knowledge.
I am from devastation and destruction; death and injuries.
I’m from damage and regrowth; repopulation and help.
I’m from family and friends; businesses both small and large.
I am of silence and tears, and of federal disaster.
I’m from strength and dignity; perseverance and trust.
I am of murals and proud historic background.
Artifacts and messages, love and hope.
I’m from comedy and drama; friendship and bonds.
I’m from love and loss; football and cheer.
I’m from an academic and athletic strength; and from the A+ Program.
I am from Junge field, and brick structuring.
I am of theatre and JET-14; show choir, orchestra, and band.
I am of FTC and AP courses.
I am of loss and damage; devastation and irreparability.
I am from a temporary and split campus, and renovation.
I am from commencement, and uncommon maturity.
I am from a battered and bruised community, and a slowly growing voice.
I’m from experience and pain, hardworking and strong people.
I am of economic setback, and of pain and heartache.
I am of faith and trust, influence and beliefs.
I am of love and pain, sarcastic and snide remarks.
I am from life and death; adoption and birth.
I am from old and young; wrong and right.
I am from values and morals; beliefs and brief moments of laughter.
I am from tinkling of bells and the sound of dropped frying pans.
I’m from happiness and sadness; from the moon and stars.
I’m from Christianity; particularly of Pentecostal belief.
I am from the tinkle of a baby’s laugh and tears; of nieces and nephews.
I'm of friendship and hope..
This is where I'm from.
Open your eyes to the ever turning skies
I want to here with me through the night
My heart yearns into your soul
Burning as if newly lit coal
I bravely submerg the embers
That the time I have can be spent with you
And I remember each kiss every moment
I was caught in your love that for just this day I remember
So what happened was a chance for your love
A time that I kept in a locket tied with a kiss
I wanted you to feel, to love, to slumber
And to awake in my arms with that times kept bliss
I lay silient in an umber
From out of the west and the flaming Sun, an entrance he did make.
There’s none like this one, an American Eagle, make no mistake!
He’d served in all the Western wars… and cleaned up many a town.
What he was doing here in ours… Totally, held the breath of all.
It seemed the West had gone tame to him, all of a sudden, you know.
He was heading East on an updraft of Freedom, and Justice, for all…
To find just the right fight… where they needed him, to serve each night.
He’d gaze upon the Liberty Bell, stand where Washington had done right.
Still that would never be enough, when somewhere injustice struck.
Here, he was just passing thru… His shadow leaving its amazing mark.
None would ever forget, how he stood and flew so straight and tall.
He’s the symbol and shield our men serve under, in this glorious land.
When he flies over, stop and salute, our Flaming Son.
He and all those, who into battle, do steadfastly follow him.
For he is the leader of all those, who will forever steadfastly go.
Dedicated to my Son going into the Army on the Veterans Day.
(Veterans Day 2009)
Side by side, they stood at attention,
facing the American flag,
former Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines.
Not one muscle twitched, nor eye blinked
as the 3rd Grader stepped to the microphone.
"Because of you, I am free," she said.
In a clear voice, she continued to express
her appreciation and gratitude,
for their service to their country,
their sacrifice for freedom.
Though his legs trembled like Jell-O
beneath the knife-edge crease of his uniform,
Grandpa's pride filled his throat
as the little blond resumed her seat.
She had recited the entire speech
from memory, and later received
a note from her school principal--
Awesome job today!--
which now decorates the front
of his refrigerator.
He celebrated his enlistment
And proudly showed the pictures of his plane,
A screaming bird emblazoned with the stars
And stripes. He joked about our home fried chicken
And kissed his baby sister, promising
To bring back toys and treats from foreign lands.
He believed in freedom, said that all
The people of the world should have that chance;
The Viet Cong would rue the day
The soldiers of America marched across their land.
They brought him home in pieces,
Shielded in a casket closed, draped
With the flag he bravely served.
We take the roses to his grave,
Red and white and bound with ribbons blue;
We weep, not alone for him,
But for the “huddled masses yearning to breath free,”
And for the valiant efforts that may have been in vain.
From the past days of old.
At Seventh Street & Florence Avenue.
Vehicles in pristine finished.
Bragging Rights Mint Condition.
Proudly rolled by in a yearly tribute.
Very close behind did the present.
Spanking brand new, Virgilina's, VA.
Town's first responders debut their life-
saving vehicles of rescue.
Summer Fest proudly displayed.
Awesomely colored painted fine cars.
Including trucks and plowing tractors.
The drivers and passengers.
Cheerfully waived tossing smiles and candy.
I watched so many of the children laughing.
Enjoying themselves while playfully.
Scrambling to grab all and as many.
Of the tossed free candies.
So very comforting it was to see.
Neighbors, visitors, friends and family.
Standing side by side
In such a loving comradely.
History and our future.
Embracing one another.
In supreme harmony.
Refreshing the supportive celebration.
Veterans from old world wars of our past.
Keeping close in step were our gallant;
soldiers of wars in our present time.
Today's events were also in celebration.
Of the soldiers whom honorably.
Transitioned to a much peaceful home.
This was a very lovely quick get away.
Cotton candy, home made ice cream.
Scenie's Old-fashioned Peanut Brittle.
Freshly squeezed lemonade.
How fortunate to meet Ms Marion Woods.
Author of Uncle Jerdon's Farm Children' Book.
Thanks to my cousin Natarsha.
I am experiencing a very lovely.
Memorial Weekend Holiday.
My Uncle Joe Lassiter our beloved Veteran.
His daughter and my cousin Andrea Miller.
Stood in the longest line waiting patiently.
For what I learned was the town's best.
It's evening now I sit here as one.
Within this blissful time in nature.
Pleasantly at peace.
Relaxed taking in the beauty.
Of this picturesque piece of land.
On on this lovely day.
I joyfully have a writing instrument.
Very close at hand.
urban leaves turned
Autumn, sniffing around
for a place to settle
no Farmer's Market
in San Francisco today.
the existence of known solubles
be they spiritual, molecular or imaginary
derivations, vain or divine
By chance, plot or plan
take maternity shops for example
bill of rights?
looking up from our handheld
electronic god to greet passersbys
purge our souls
© All Rights Reserved
Refreshing drink – there’s nothing finer,
When you’re parched and really gasping –
Darjeeling tea in fine bone china,
Mark the subtle, fresh aroma
Spiralling up in wisps of steam.
It wakes the brain, assists with thinking
At breakfast time when spirits flag,
It equals good champagne for drinking,
Just when you need a morning lift.
So sip the amber liquid, slow
And feel the warmth of Asian suns.
That tannin bite will make you glow,
Awakening sleepy spirits, fast.
It’s full of life and constancy,
This British institution, TEA.
This expanse of land has seen things.
Things all of us can only see in dreams.
It's seen war, it's gotten it's fair share of scars.
Bombs bursting, bullets throwing sand into the air like it's a volleyball tournament.
The sand running red with blood silently mocking our arteries.
This magnificent stretch of land has seen heroes' tears fall; dropping to their knees while sadness envelopes their fallen brothers but also looking up to their beloved whilst carrying a ring in their hand.
It's seen bright days, the sun glimmering over wet sand, footprints of past loves being washed away as the sun smacks the horizon.
This expanse of land...has seen things we can only imagine.
I came here only but once
And that was not long ago
Hunger had brought me here
And I went my way satisfied
And fully determined to return
When I walked up the stairs
From the parking lot below
I was hungry and I was thirsty
And it seemed to me a long
Long walk to the Food Cafe
Today I flew up to the third floor
And hid myself behind litter bins
For the devil, nay, for the devils
Had struck! And struck and struck
Mercilessly, recklessly, violently
And turned this man-made haven
Of happy, chatty, and even noisy
Citizens- children and old included
Into a brazen God-forsaken hell
With brazen Godforsaken devils!
For Shots rung from everywhere
And people fell, or crept or cowered
While others jumped to their swift end
Or broke limbs, screaming and shouting
As they sought to flee the assassins’ rage
Many lives have been lost, dear friend
Much blood has been shed, dear friend
Much pain has been inflicted, my friend
Much fear has been instilled, my friend
Much loss has been incurred, my friend
These lives, this blood, pain, fear and loss
Visited, as it was, on innocent peaceful people
On a day which the whole world had set aside
To celebrate the International Day of Peace
Was meant to do what to the people of Kenya?
If it was to divide us, please know
That we are more united than ever
If it was to instill fear and sow panic
We are more courageous and calm
Than you and your lot will ever be
For the God of this land and nation is a universal God
Who loves little children like those whose brains
You wantonly scattered to the four winds
Who cares for life which you took
In your murderous adventure
Which I know will come
To a close in the
You will face in
In the not so
©2013 Gerald Kithinji
Some of us are watching the skies for works of fire
While some of us are quietly catching it.
Which are you?
Savaging words daggling tongues apprehend you sick and tired I’m based
Ruthless up seen
Pass end mean of a cardinal for a rein
I was a part of this but never will it end with me
Twitter, this and twitter that if it is a considerable option or a standing ovation,
Please hash tag “I Still Believe”, pause for mean...
When you know the difference between an, Nation,
And Countries you know your heritage, and
What you in inherited why not volunteer for a solution
My “Queen of Heaven”
Yes we need a revolution motion in phase.
Phase past the moonlight past to the frustration,
Of feelings of all the world problems
Digestion and looked at as a plagued like waves after waves mourning,
More graves after the taste how can we get to an even paid.
An suggest to reinvent a dollar,
For a day by day check but yet sleep under rage,
I am enduring much of the strain of one body
But multiple heard from the same strain,
Of that body of the spoken word wonder one day
What will it be the emblem of the praise.
Peace to siege, to leaf to leave from used to misused looking for a craving of the truth
And all but turn to acquit to left with Yamaka is what we received.
Was it all a gable then clear the smoke.
A ghost is here point to a host.
I ask but yet stated that
Poetry is still alive and if so maybe one day
They will hash tag “I Still Believe” as the world is changing
I hope I have not over stated my boundaries
But I thought in a democracy the people come first
Or what I have learned in a classroom was all a hoaxes.
I wrote for purpose instead of reason who is to judge me, may it be love! ! !
'We have a future king to make,'
Said the deep, resounding voice.
'But it is not a proper fit for everyone.
For a king must know first how to obey than to command,
And to abide rather than reign.'
'And thus, I need a volunteer.'
The eager little voices swiftly gathered ‘round.
'To have a throne and my own crown,' said a little voice with delight.
'A great palace for my home,' cried another, 'or a castle with tall ramparts.'
'I’d be above all others,' said yet another, 'that would surely ease one’s comparing mind;'
'And best of all, to be revered by everyone and through all time!'
'Don’t fool yourselves with thrones and crowns,' said a little voice from the side,
'Do not haste into a choice you may regret for all your life!
I’d rather risk oblivion and even want, but be free to choose my fate,
What is precious life for but to discover one’s gift and thirst?
You take that crown and throne, and you forever renounce the greatest prize you own!'
There were no volunteers at hand for that grand, distinguished life.
The once lively little voices now stood silent, with cautious glances in their eyes.
Yet they began to move a little, but not to volunteer their fates;
Someone was slowly coming forward all the way from far behind.
Soon, one single little voice stood ahead of all the others, and with a thoughtful stare, it spoke:
'I overheard a story once
Of a vast and balmy river
That braves across cold, stormy seas
So it can meet a fabled shore
And become one with it.
'Wearied from its long voyage,
It crashes beneath the sheer cliffs.
And as its froth caresses the jagged rocks,
It echoes the green, velvety meadows above
Which gently cuddle the harsh precipice.
'The wee, babe-in-arms coming king
Will hold that fabled shore in him.
For he, though one sole man
Will stand for an entire land.
And in choosing this destiny
Of that fabled shore I also shall be,
For it will be a part of me,
And I, humbly, of it.
'And then, there is the brave lad who in sheer fright,
Gathered all his nerve and leaped into the dark night
Over the unknown enemy’s laird.
Oh, how I would leap into the dark along with thee!
Though he is now long gone, he will live in me,
And I, humbly, in him.
'And the family who huddled deep beneath the ground
Through the terrifying shudder of the enemy’s raging rounds.
Then, to rise again, and not concede.
I was in that shelter along with them,
And so were a million others who were yet to be!
'Such as the young boy now walking to school on a quiet country lane,
To learn his Scott, his Shakespeare, his Milton, and his Keats.
I will follow him close behind, and my own feet shall grow within his footprints.
It takes no less than each of them to make a king,
And not more than lacking one to lessen him.
For a king, though one sole self, stands for all,
And all do stand for him.
'I know that in choosing this path,
I’ll forever relinquish command of my compass,
And may never find out what I could’ve become on my own,
Or what my true talent may be.
I will follow, instead, a course that has long been set,
By others, and not by me.
'But I have a strong hunch
That if I don’t put myself first,
Or what I feel I’m entitled to do and to have,
And choose, instead, to be fair, as best as I possibly can,
To those for whom I’ll be honored to stand,
I’ll eventually know who I really am;
And will meet, one day, the man I am meant to become.'
'Thus, I volunteer
To be the child who’s one day to be king.'
A newborn day blazed in the distance,
And a transformation was about to take place,
As momentous as the invasion of spring,
The rising of the harvest, or a mighty winter gale.
Nearly two thousand babies were coming to life on that land,
From that land, to that land, for that land,
And a single one amongst them exalted all.
Half a world away, a vast and balmy river
Was setting out on its long voyage to a fabled shore,
And nearby, radiant sunlight battled gray, stormy clouds,
So as to break through and paint in brilliant and broad brushstrokes
The lofty Highlands below,
And thus, be reborn as shimmering glens and moors.
You made a choice,
You broke the mold,
You raised your hand
Now you’re living bold
Oh, yes! You did.
Oh, yes! I did.
You turned your back
On pain and lack.
You said “No, thanks,
I’m not going back!”
Oh, yes! You did.
Oh, yes! I did.
When everyone else
Was still asleep,
You opened your eyes
And took a peek.
Oh, yes! You did.
Oh, yes! I did.
You saw the path
You made a way
You challenged fear
Now you’re here to stay.
Oh, yes! You did.
Oh, yes! I did.
Mama said “NO!”
Daddy said “No!”
Sista said “No!”
And so did your bro.
Oh,yes! They did
Oh, yes! They did
But you turned your back
On mediocrity and lack,
Said “Oh, no! This is it!”
I’m done with trouble
I don’t miss pain
I’m looking for joy
Personal growth and gain.
Oh, yes! You did.
Oh, yes! I did.
Yeah, you turned your back
On sorrow and lack
On worry and grief
On fear and blame
You took the steps
You fought the fight
Then you stormed the stage
On Saturday night!
Oh, yes! You did!
Oh, yes! I did!
You had a four step plan
In the palm of your hand.
You fought your fear
Courage brought you here
Oh, yes! It did!
Oh, yes! It did!
Now you’re happy and bold
You broke the mold
You’re living large
Fighting the fight
Taking your cruises
Changing your life
You’re done with the bruises
Oh, yes! You did!
Oh, yes! I did!
You’re soaring now
Taking life higher
Nothin gonna hold you
Did what we told you
Oh, yes! You did!
Oh, yes! I did!
The warmest of the warm
Came along for the ride
Shoulder to shoulder
They stand by your side.
Oh, Yes! They did!
Oh, Yes! They did!
Mama said “No!”
Daddy said “No!”
Sista said “No!”
And so did your bro.
Oh, yes! They did!
Oh, yes! They did!
You know it don’t matter
Roaches gonna scatter
You got new familia now
Go on, take a bow!
We got elevation
We’re all one family
Livin in the Nation!
Oh, yes! We did!
Oh, yes! We did!
by first the Chinese
and the Unites States...
or guerrilla warfare
supported by regular units...
Dien Bien Phu
Bernard B. Fall
"Hell in a very small place"
soon after 1954
America walked the "Street without joy"
The Viet Minh
attacking satellite positions
seven in all
such names as
former school teacher
later besieged Khe Sanh
saved only by B-52 air strikes...
What men will die for
makes less sense
as time goes by...
Perhaps it is
the unspoken honor
Still they soldiered on
60 years has passed
and around the world
the madness has grown...
~ ~ ~ ~
Remember those who died for us,
They left their families to save us,
They died and went to heaven.
Remember the twin towers,
They once were there but now are gone,
Remember those who went to work,
Who never came home.
Remember the God who gave us life,
Who can save us from death,
Remember He’ll never leave our side,
In sickness and in health.
They left their family to save us,
They died and went to Heaven,
Remember those who died for us,
for fallen soldiers
I watched the bad news on TV again...
A young soldier came home in a coffin.
He is someone's Son, Daughter, Grandson, Granddaughter,
Brother, Sister, Friend, Husband, Wife, Father or Mother:
who will never smile and hug his parents,
who will never love and kiss his spouse,
who will never enjoy and play with his kids,
who will never laugh and talk with his friends,
who will never wear his military uniform,
who will never, ever be again around us...
He, who gave his life, is an American Hero:
an American Son or American Daughter.
We will remember You, Soldier.
They pledged their lives, their fortunes
And their sacred honor.
With courage born of God and love
Of freedom, they stood against
The evil of the day. Nor would their lives
Have been preserved had they failed in their cause.
Today we cower in our comfort zones
Afraid to disobey the unjust laws,
The mandates of corrupted men
Who will control, who grasp for power,
Who deny they are the servants and
Betray the unearned trust of those they’ve fooled.
Where will we find the patriots of today,
Those who treasure freedom over life,
Who stand apart from unearned beneficence,
Who aren’t afraid to say, “I built this,
I own my own rewards and I reject
The socialist fraud of government.”
We the People hold our Freedom
In our hands. No secret patriots will arise
To re-declare the Independence sacrificed
To welfare gods or to Big Brother’s lies.
If we seek fortune over honor, Liberty will not be saved.
The Founders bones raise dust clouds in the grave.
I curse away one head to stabilize the thinking,I curse away the set of eyes that forever fall from the face to set a clear vision.I curse away the spear,the nation builder to educate the ***** controlled youth.i curse away your home and give the country a roof over their heads.
In the name of Hani,Sobukwe,Plaatjie and Biko I cast away the power hungry demons,I cast away the big tummied devils and I also cast away the raw fish eating kings.In light of peace,love and harmony I pray for justice,sense and sanity.I pray for the end of blood shed,xenophobic attacks and women bashing.
Black against black,white against white,black against white,our sense of sight has been racially removed.A rainbow belongs in the sky,I will continue to carry a gun and shoot everyone who looks different.Dompas memories,Bantu Stans living,Africanism disappearing I curse away tenderpreneurship.
Big beard,farmer clothing and a monkey hating gun.Game drives on police vans I will drag race with the monkey tied at the back.Blood spilling,dark screams as you touch base with your ancestors.1652,1990,1994 I curse away the Dromedaris.
"Black like me"
Cheeky black statements,arrogant monkeys,I call upon the mirror.
Mirror mirror on the wall prove that blacks are still stupid.
Mirror mirror on the wall hope the trick works again.
Green,Gold and Black
We hope for greener pastures,gold fields to rid poverty but we know black will always darken our futures.
My precious son, welcome home
Let me hold you, embrace you, for you are not alone
My how you’ve changed, what battle has done
From serving your country, my soldier son
Your shoulders are broader, your face is like stone
Your hands are all battered, ankles worn to bone
You’ve shed lots of blood, and flood many tears
For you are a man, who’s truly faced fears
You’ve done the unthinkable, and have taken a life
And prayed for the courage, to do it in strife
You’ve lost many brothers, in battle abroad
And know that they rest, in a place next to God
I know who you are, because Im the same man
Now sit back and listen, while I hold your hand
I’ll tell you a tale, of freedom and pride
For I am God’s son, like you I have died
You see I’ve been a soldier, since the beginning of time
Fighting for good, my mission divine
I’ve died for Gods children, which you too have done
Your master is thankful, my soldier son
You were not blessed, with riches or gold
But with gifts much greater, than can ever be sold
You see god made you, with one mission in mind
To protect his creation, your mission divine
I know you have scars, that run deep inside
That man cannot see, but from me they can’t hide
Now hand me those burdens, in me you confide
Lay them at my feet, I’ll wear them with pride
Your mission is over, so lets take you home
To meet our great father, the man on the throne
He loves you so much, for what you have done
I welcome you home, my soldier son
Rhett Connolly, Author>
Have you read the message from the east?
Iqbal is Called universal but here,
Insist to call him poet of east!
Do you know who said about purity?
By mere deed it can never be achieved!
If so, then these are even known by Satan.
He knows enough tricks to misdeed...
Do you know who said that he saw?
HIS presence in pagan’s heart,
But the poor soul is unaware!
Moral soul of our culture is kept alive,
Truly by these writings, they revive!
These writing versions so emote,
Our cultural values since birth float,
In-between Iqbal, Faraz and Ghalib,
Their literature quite candid!
And our culture is merely aided
By the projection of these commended!
coming out enchanting
a harp playing
from an irish sea
from the mist of hibernia
entering a cold mystical island
a lonely teddy bear out in an ocean
dressed in her forty shades of green
her lush finery
from the land of the leprechaun
king of the fairies
tales of a land of forever young in the fianna
magical blossoms shades her beauty
classical in her name eire
modern irish emerald green
jewel of her color
arising from the land
of eternal winter
quoting describes a cold chilling land
inhabitated by a bunch
of wild savages
who feast on the flesh
of their dead fathers
despite the cold
the grazing was so tasty
very lush sweet
that cattle exploded fat
if allowed to eat unchecked
in a new kingdom
used to fasten her shawl
son of the high king
his father was overthrown
killed in a revolt
by the king of ulster
who was daughter
of king of alba
britian at the time
because alba became
the name for scotland
later on fled to britain
with her son 20 years later
he returns to eire
defeating his father's enemies
turns in history
he became the high king
there he conveyed
in a conference
were he established
himself law in the land
he annexed territory
for each four provinces
creating central control
in the province of meath
four fortresses where built
one for each our green fields
span an irish republic
For USS Bonhomme Richard (LHD6)
We Have Not Yet Begun..........
Some experiences leave words
inadequate to describe them
Like standing on the flight deck
of the USS Bonhomme Richard
Witnessing at sunset
the lowering of the colors
feeling the reverence and respect
shown as the flag flutters to rest
The solemn escort of the flag
that demonstrates devotion
to high ideals and freedom
Here on a ship with a name, deeply
steeped in history I am told the
motto, "I have not yet begun to fight"
Proud words that rang out long ago
from John Paul Jones
And so tradition carries on-
in the awesome technology deployed
in the constant fight against tyranny
During this tour I have learned
a whole new language
Important messages like
"Don't give up the ship"
and how the resolve of these words
shone from the eyes of every crew member.
The feeling of team-ship was strong
among them- yet I felt
as I stood at the side of a
certain Lieutenant Colonel
on that flight deck, that I
was in the presence of an American hero.
I will long remember
my visit to the USS Bonhomme Richard
In the little booklet I was given
it stated many facts and figures;
snippets of information of a
but the smiles and conversation
the crew were so willing to give
will live -in my heart forever.
I will be thinking of them
"Launching into the abyss,"
attending to commands- like
"Darken ship" and I will bless them always
for their roles in defending
"WE.... have not yet begun....
to thank you for your fight
Dear men and women
of the USS Bonhomme Richard."
"Negroes" and pork pie hats
white shirts, black ties
sweat stains under their arms,
even wetter, the pressed handkerchiefs that wipe faces and necks.
Father Abraham looks down upon his children
and sees the words "I am a man" over and over again.
It is hot, and white girls with beehives and Peter Pan collars
cool their heels in the reflecting pool. Images of a monument to a slaveowner look up at them.
Somewhere a song plays
on a transistor:
"I Can't Stay Mad at You"
A dream is young at 50 -- compared to the kingdoms of Europe, that wall in China.
A dream at 50 won't die. Even now, it haunts the sleepless, promising a new birth of freedom -- to let men grow old together, hand in hand,
to let immigrants walk the hot streets of Arizona, work their lawn service jobs
and not fear being sent away.
Today, in the global freedom capital, tourists stroll clipped lawns and snap pictures of order and majesty, of white, doric columns, Greek temples.
They email the images back to starved souls in Odessa and Beijing.
That Skeeter Davis song still plays. You can hear it in the molecules of the air, the bits of history that have attached themselves to His marble feet, refusing to evaporate.
The wind carries a tiny echo about a dream and freedom
and America living up to its promise.
The hope of the world?
History is sticky, heavy ... like the sultry air of summer.
It won't go;
It makes our hearts heavy
and haunts our minds.
They wear their boots
For over 234 years, they have worn their boots.
They walked the mud of bunker hill
The snow of Gettysburg.
Through the valleys of Italy and France.
They wear their boots with pride across the world.
Each American in their own boots they do march..
They shine those boots to march down the main street.
With their heads all high and tall.
The American soldier fills those boots they wear.
Blood sweat and yes tears drops fall on these boots.
But they are worn with freedom they do design
Each soldier wants to die with their boots of freedom on
Coward, are those
Who are afraid of change
For change might deprive them
Their Freedom, their Democracy
The liberty to choose
The liberty to live
The liberty not to do such duties and obligations
The liberty to stir the law
The liberty to engage in such activities
That provides them the luxury of life
Coward, are those
Officials who implements the Law
For the National Security
For which this protected island
Free from oppression of the foreign entity
But not from their own race
People versus people
Officials Versus citizen
Equality is futile
Law is equality
Doomed are those who resist Law
Dead are those who oppose them
Coward are those who are living in the castle
An epitome of good family
A picturesque nation and rich culture
For their lives are at stake
Only and if only risks are taken
Have you ever seen any purest intentions?
Of promoting the general welfare
If life is the fee
For a glimpse of nationalism
Will you be willing to give all?
Declare war against the offenders
Be vigilant to the oppressors
Of own kind and own people
To carry out the true sense of leadership
Pity for no such word fits to anyone
For no one chooses to die
Coward, are those people
Who care less or nothing at all
Little they know
That the liberty of today
Sheds blood in the past
A little eloquence of your tongue
To make a stand
Nevertheless to choose between black or white
Was not an option
But to remain the tranquility of your existence
You are nothing compared to a feeble mule
Coward, are those youth
Who doesn't apply the sanctity of morality
Especially disrespects elder
For nothing you know
Nothing at all
That your freedom came into reality
If not because of the of the old ones
Whose beliefs your could architect change
Ever faithful to your caliber
Projects future in your hands
Was He who thought that
You are our last hope
Is an unsuccessful prophecy?
Coward, are those people
Who pretend to be brave
Mumble a lot and speaks crap
For braveness is pure and bold
It is selfless and competent
It comes inevitably
To those who willingly accepts
Hungrily fights and struggles their fate
He works untiringly and tolerates justice
For the salvation of liberty
To remain freedom
He defends the truth and righteousness
For the majestic good
Live in pain and agony
Let his soul be tormented
For his reasons shall prevail
For the sake of his belief, he shall be in despair
He welcomes death
That concludes his serene patriotism…#
‘BUILDING THE NATION.’
They sit every session, to negotiate their pay,
They talk of how much they need,
They complain how taxing their job is,
As they sit ‘building the nation.’
They had a strategy this time,
To increase the taxes, charges and rates,
To cover the ‘government expenditure,’
They also tripled their pay, and accompanying allowances!
And said they need it, in ‘building the nation.’
In the name of building the nation,
They made legislations,
To cut down ‘other salaries,’
And increase the indirect tax rates,
They saw it a necessary move, in ‘building the nation!’
I just want to be able to write to you
and tell you
I love you
I want to be able to tell you
that I want a better world
I want to be able to tell you
I don't want more than I need
I just want enough to live a decent life
so that I may be of service to my fellow man.
That's what I am telling you
from the depths of my American soul
That is the American dream
and that is the human dream
and that is the dream the true heroes of my country
intended for the world.
It's not your America or my America,
but our America.
Not a white, red
or an Asian America,
but a multi-colored America...
Not a straight,
gay or bi America,
but an equal America...
Not an America for men
or one strictly for women,
but an equitable America for both sexes...
Not an America for
the wealthy or middle class,
nor one that ignores the poor –
but an America without castes...
Not an America for the privileged,
but an America that privileges the hard-working
and creates opportunities...
Not a Christian, Islamic,
Jewish, or agnostic America,
but an America of vast traditions and faiths...
Not an exclusive or elitist America,
but a leading and welcoming America...
It's not a Republican, Independent,
or America of Democrats.
No, it’s The People who make up America...
And as long as We -
Her beloved sons and daughters -
Never mock equality, freedom, and justice
then our fair country,
shall stand tall and united as one America.
I stood atop the mount,
I watched the blazing snake consume,
And I realised that this was my land.
At first I thought I stood alone,
But then I knew she sat beside me,
Pondering the razing of this land.
I asked her how could this be so,
She said these stones were forged in blood,
Pools of blood that wet this land.
Gorging on the sacrifice,
The snake rears up and grins at me,
It knows that man has broke this land.
The Fianna are long since dead,
She sheds a tear, just one of many,
Easter’s soldiers too are mourned.
As iron fades away to rust,
A sad smile plays along my lips,
To hate and love the heart that hates.
She lays a hand upon her harp,
And I at once begin to sing,
These Gaelic lyrics to the land.
I poured my heart into the song,
The rains came down and quenched the snake,
Its death hiss haunts my dreams forever.
I asked her how could this be so,
She smiled, her hand against my cheek,
Those green eyes melting in my soul.
The land, she said, will heal in time,
Still she smiled and I smiled too,
This land is mine, and I, this land’s.
Who am I?
Fleeting shadow deathly still,
Intricate graffiti on the crumbling wall,
Fiery smoke in the silent sundown.
Who are you?
Music drifting out of reach,
Crested waves caressing sand,
Enchantress dancing on the rocks.
Leave me be here,
This dusty paradise,
To bask in its warmth,
And not your own.
Yet still she calls me,
Not you but her,
That Emerald Maiden,
Who ever holds my heart.
We take flight from this mountain,
Where the lions are filled with woe,
My Emerald Maiden calls me,
One day, not her alone.
I had tried to tell them
with the tip of my mighty pen
That it was useless, this war
I had, in fact, told them so
I had said it loud, louder than ever
Perhaps my mighty pen was not so mighty
Perhaps my shrill voice was not so vibrant
Perhaps the audience was not listening
Perhaps there was no audience at all
But wait a moment
I heard the cry, yes, I heard the wailing
I heard the death-screams, too
I heard so much that was revolting:
I heard your importuning voice, too
And you know what?
I saw so much ugliness
I even saw the raw flesh
Fed to the hungry guns
And the raw brains
Scattered to the four winds
I saw so much revolting stuff:
I saw your deformed face, too.
Come here, fighter, come
What was it you fought for?
What was it you bled for?
What was it you died for?
Come, come here; let me see!
Tell me frankly, what was the promise?
Deliverance, did you say?
Freedom and dignity for the people?
Tell me, was that the promise?
Come on, fighter, do not fidget, no!
Tell me what you fought for-
If not for these?
I will tell you, stranger,
Said the fighter,
I will shout it out.
I fought for my land!
I will build my freedom
My dignity and my wealth
On my land!
Dedicated to the Officers and crew of
USS Columbia (SSN 771)
We are welcomed by men in
Through a hatch
we descend a steep ladder
into "The Last Slider"
From a narrow corridor we enter
into the brain and nerves
of this vessel-
To my untrained eye the confusion
of cables overhead is bewildering
This black ship of stealth
tracks the world outside,
silently invisible itself
Rows of monitors, sonar devices
high powered periscopes
all with a myriad of buttons to push-
A marvel of technology -
yet men are the heart and soul
of this great ship
They are Submariners
They say goodbye to the sun
for months on end
Week after harrowing week they spend
day after day on grinding drills
where the only thrill is their daily meals
They are human- in a ship of war
but a ship that exists for freedom
The Officers guide us through each section
The ship at rest has released them
from an endless commitment but
with a practiced eye
they are still attuned to every detail
Commanders almost prescient
so in step with every procedure
they can sense malfunction in their sleep
I notice the commitment to excellence
I note the pride behind the
preparations for our inspection
Blue curtains with the ships insignia
are drawn on bunk beds
Shiny copper engine parts, clean bright paint
reflects the values of those who
keep their vessel, ship-shape
Now I stand in the nose where the
The metal tubes look benign
for all the power they contain
Ironically in rows, directly above,
the crew's bunks are located-
in tiers of three -even sleep
Photos of family are the only
human touch in
this dark, black, whale
of a vessel
The sense of duty for each individual
There is a spirit of complete trust
This is a world for honorable men
"Victory is Silence"
I try to imagine daily living
the steely discipline
the choosing to go forward in the face of
Precision and man - morphing
The pact between Submariners is
They move as one.
I believe in this ghost
because she has no wings
she will stay in her grave
till the digger finds her
she is very real unlike other ghost
flesh like my flesh, bones like my bones.
Sweat like my sweat, and blood like my blood
in this grave, on these fields.
I believe in this ghost
because she is very real
faithful and loyal to the chains that hold her
buried in this place, this grave on these fields.
On these very lands where my fathers toiled.
Grounds of my own, grounds of my birth
a people destined for greatness
with a dream that is but a ghost
buried under these rocks
rocks of corruption, rocks of bad governance.
Rocks of illiteracy, rocks of poverty
many many rocks of other things
these serve as chains across her grave
yet i hold my believe strong
because i know a time will come
when the digger-man will break through these chains
and this ghost long buried will rise to haunt.
If you ever heard of this story
If you ever felt the presence of a stranger
If his words were soft and kind
And you could see him smiling in his eyes
Lookout and be careful
The eyes are not the window of the soul
Nor are words as innocent
As you may take them
By crafty words men will deceive you
And for the lack of knowledge you will perish
Yes men will try to outfox you
Because it takes a fox to catch a fox
Men watch for me
Lookout I am coming
Just wait a minute
I’ll be right there
No wait maybe tomorrow
If I ain’t too busy
I’m sorry I had a lot to do today
Please be patient
Don’t worry my word is good
I’m not like those who speak with a double tongue
Think about the missions we’ve been through together
I have always treated you with mercy
Have I not?
A woman who was known for a love and passion.
The depth of her devotion for God she all adore.
Time has come to test her loyalty and faith.
All of her loved ones were killed by fate.
The only reason she still behold,
She moved with Naomi, left the home she'd lived.
With a heart full of kindness she didn't leave alone.
Share the rest of her strength and serve the old.
In a far away land, with no family.
Keep the faith so strong and praise God into thee.
The woman who can sacrifice a majesty.
Has become a good daughter with Naomi.
The rights not only men but women,
God rolled down the soil to make all men and women alike,
Air,light and water common for all,
Right to do and right to undo,
For men and women alike,
Why one to listen to other?
Why one to hear to other?
No one to bring force on another,
No one to take the life of another,
At par for all,
No above par,
No below par,
Each of the birds enjoys a set of wings,
To fly independently,
But they fly together,
Signing for a system under their wings,
A system to be together like galaxy,
One to listen to other,
One to hear to other,
Under a system all signed,
One to expect from other,
One to respect to other,
For the system to survive,
An universal system,
All to accept,
All to respect,
For the coexistence like birds,
For all the world,Human Rights,
For all the Governments,
A system all Government institutions in sight,
For all it's men and women alike,
To fly the flag of just in hike,
The strong structure of constitution,
Constructed for all by all,
The key of the structure in the hands of all men and women,
Access allowed but with the aid of the key,
No one can try back doors,
Theft of all thefts is thieving one's right,
All men and women to become watchdogs day and night to fight.
Constitutions of Governments are the very doors of HR homes!
An Englishman lost in afternoon tea,
Memories of a lotus flower love
Rajas and elephants in Delhi
Livingstone the explorer
Religion to convert
Laurence of Arabia
A leader of men
The Boers and the Zulus
Gordon and Khartoum
These are the things that shook the world
Silk and Cotton,
The wealth of Empire
Earl Mountbatten our man in Burma
The cry of Bombay and Ceylon
Oblivious to a young man’s dream
England was the world
Her Empire was great
For the sun never did sett
On her wealth
The jewel in this noble crown
Yet History was not kind
Exploitation her crime
Though civilisation came hand in hand
For Freedom we planted
Democracy you chanted
The union jack you did burn
And what have you learned
Greed breeds poverty in silence
Sectarian dogma your anthem
Murder by the chosen few
How flourishes your tree
When your morals all flee
With bombs in the souk
And murder by troops
The poor evicted
To make way for corruption
And tyrants consumption
Look to the horizon
For there lies Britain
It's empire gone
But our pride lingers on
Can your freedom say the same?
Or is oil to blame?
Who shall we accuse?
For your freedoms abuse?
Not the British
Love us or hate us
England brought you civilisation
And civilisation lives on
In this green and pleasant land
GIVES A LESSON
WITH A .357
DAVID SLINGS A ROCK
COP HOLSTERS A GLOCK
LIZZY BORDEN PACKS AN AXE
MAC HE PACKS THE KNIFE
BILLY BATTLES WITH A CLUB
TOMMY’S GUN IS A SUB
KELLY’S GOT ONE TOO
BAZOOKA JOE IS GUM
PETER GUNN IS NOT
COLT .45 IS NOT MALT
NOR IS IT A HORSE
CANONS HAVE BIG BALLS
DOC HOLIDAY HAD TB
ROCK HUDSON HAD HIV
NATILIE WOOD DON’T FLOAT
NATILIE HOLLAWAY DON'T FLOAT
THE TITANIC BOAT DON'T FLOAT
JAMES DEAN CRASHED HIS CAR
HANK WILLIAMS CRASHED HIS BAR
DIRTY HARRY HAD THE BIGGEST
THE DERRINGER IS SMALLEST
CAIN MURDERED HIS BROTHER
JULIETTE DRANK POISON FOR HER LOVER
JIM JONES KILLED WITH COOL-AID
SLASHING WRISTS WITH A BLADE
BOW AND ARROW KILLS THE SAME
AS BONNIE OR CLYDE BARROW
CHARLES MANSON IS ALIVE
MICHAEL JACKSON IS NOT
IRAQI RULER WITH A ROPE
JOHN BELUSHI TOO MUCH DOPE
SATURDAY NIGHT SPECIAL IS ORDINARY
FAST AND FURIOUS IS THE CRIME
PIRATE VICTIMS WALK THE PLANK
THINK! NEXT TIME I”LL BRING A TANK
HEAR THE WHISTLE OF MY MISSILE?
AFTER THAT WHAT DO YOU BET?
I’LL COME FLYING IN A FIGHTER JET
SMOKEY BEAR’S RIGHT TO “BEAR” ARMS
OR DID WE JUST ARM BEARS?
NEVER STIFLE MY RIFLE
THIS IS MY RIFLE THIS IS MY GUN
ONE FOR FIGHTING ONE FOR FUN
BANG - BANG - BANG - BANG - BANG - BANG
COME AND TAKE THEM
THE ONLY WAY FREEDOM OF SPEECH WORKS
IS BECAUSE THE 1st AMENDMENT
IS BACKED BY THE 2nd AMENDMENT
I stood up straight,I stood up tall,
As I took those final steps to "The Wall".
My hands were shaking,my eyes were blurred,
And,in my heart,my soul,I heard;
Tell my wife,tell my son,tell my Father too.
I left my blood in a foreign land,
As my country asked me to.
Don't grieve for me,I'm long past pain,
but I know the hurt is there.
Just remember what WAR has done,to people everywhere.
We're all here together now,the friends And the foes.
We've all got something to tell you,
And this is how it goes.
The spark of life,in us ALL,was given us by God.
Who is man,to take it away,by gun,by knife,by rod?
I shook my head,I started to cry,I wondered if it was real.
I felt the pain of a million souls,my stomach had a chill.
I knew then,what it was,that made me come here now.
It hit me hard,those words I heard,and so I made this vow.
I'll do my best,to give the word,to every one that listens.
When man makes war,and kills his brothers,
Rapes and plunders,and imprisons,
The final days up in Heaven,we are all together.
Right or wrong,no matter the cause,we are ALL linked,
Held by Gods sacred tether.
He is an old Vet now, weighed down by the years.
He walks slowly with a limp, and has grey hair, eye glasses and hearing aids.
Ah, but there once was a day when he was young and strong.
A day when he raised his hand and swore to support the Constitution and protect
A day he stood erect, proudly wore his uniform and gave crisp salutes.
A day he shook his fathers hand, kissed his mother goodbye and went off to war.
A day he stood firmly and bravely against aggressive foes and did not falter.
A day he saw things a young man should not have to see.
A day he did things a young man should not have to do.
And day he wept over the graves of his fallen comrades.
Yes he remembers all these things.
He stands as the flag passes by in the parade and he salutes it as he has done many times before...
And he remembers.
The guns and rocket launchers
are being fed to the furnace,
to be changed to hoes and rakes.
Military training fields are being changed
to playgrounds and amusement parks for kids;
it doesn't matter the political party
their parents belong.
People are coming together to commemorate
the fallen - rebels, government soldiers, innocent souls,
and brave men and women who fought for peace.
The Nation is chasing away the darkness in her past,
creating a space for daylight in the future; a bright
tomorrow for her sons and daughters.
Fireworks slide down the back of my tongue
Some went north to imitate stars,
knowing all to well they wouldn’t even make it to the stratosphere
A fire can’t breathe with no air
Ask that man in the alley why he has to shoot black skies into his veins to see them.
You probably have more in common than you might think.
Satellite transmissions making waves like the oceans they cover
Healthy food is expensive, while poison is damn near free!
There is a storm coming
Grab your blankets and I will tell you how it ends with a new beginning.
There she stands with torch in her hand.
Beaconing freedom throughout the land.
Welcoming those who come to this land..... of the free.
She doesn't care what color you are.
Whether you come from near or from far.
Many an eye has shed a tear.
To see her so Proudly welcoming you here.
This lady we call Liberty was a gift from France to you and me.
She stands on an island called Liberty, all on her own.
Letting one and all visit her home.
Greeting people of all nations who come to this land.
Liberty is the name she is called.
And Heaven help us if ever does she fall.
SERMONS IN MY NATIONS
Lucky are the elected,
For they shall have all chances,
To change the law and favour themselves,
To increase their pay and rob taxpayers.
Favoured are those with tribesmen at the top,
For they shall find no hindrance,
In any office they shall seek,
Neither shall they be jobless nor be job-seekers.
Great are those with power,
For no law shall be above them,
They shall kill or rob or justify the unjust,
And the law will always be on their side.
Happy are power owners,
For they will reap where they had not sown,
Through corruption and scandalous embezzlement,
Of the common man's hard earned funds.
The rest will just watch in silence.
I watch the peddles fall but my eyes are dry
I just can’t remember a better time
Now the skies grow dim and birds won’t fly
Yah there’s nothing I see that’ll make it shine
I see rolling balls and empty hands
The world is shameless for those who can’t even stand
And the man in slacks who speaks on the podium
His lies preaching out how we’re not alone.
So wake up and die
Dig out your graves
Prepare for the laughter
Through the haze
Too much loss
Prevented your gains
Rise up with your brothers
Cause we’re all the same
The bars are easy to fill and life’s been too hard
So quick to get into and not too far
Drinking wasted taxes and politician’s lies
Hiding back your distaste right behind your eyes
Singing about the railroad and the power of love
Shoulda brought them together before they sung
Now they’ve chased them back to a life of pain
Their lies preaching still how we’re all the same
we can’t accept the past
we hope we’ll last
run by lords
we see power from their hands
walk by love and
we’ll take a stand
US horizons shine
For today, is the 4th of July
As cracks of guns and fireworks
To celebrate American Independence!
This freedom loving nation
A bastion of heart warming citizens
Today, sing in unison so valiant
Despite dozens in streets protests rippling
Under the sunny emblem.
Now, too, coincide, it reopens
The Great Statue of Liberty, an eye opener
Of the sacrifices proud in wars without and within
The Great Defender and very raring Westerner
Resplendent of its glorious past with
armor despicably shining.
Oh, America, my country, My motherland!
You are one up to this day till end
Come our way , addressed and destined
Followed by allies ,enemies and among nations
Truly unwavering and caring at its helm.
SUPREME EMBLEM, TODAY, the
4TH of JULY OUR INDEPENDENCE!
This is a land shared
By the many nationalities of this world
Whether it is the French, the Irish,
The Germans, the Dutch, the Italians, or the Russians
This land is everyone’s
It does not matter who came here first
Whether it was the Native Americans,
Christopher Columbus, Walter Raleigh, or any of the Spanish conquistadors
This was a nation by the people for the people
And it has been that way
For the last three hundred years
And if it had not of been
For men like George Washington,
Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson,
And all the other Founding Fathers
This would be a land
Still under the rule of tyrants
But when it comes down
To the United States of America
I support this nation and its people power
The battle had begun,
Thought that I was devastated,
Blood oozing out like an ocean of pain,
Thought that I was shattered,
To pieces by a storm,
I was running out of hope,
In the very garden of my dreams,
The sun was crying through our sweat,
As if it had been a witness to this trauma,
Innocent buds were crushed down,
To a doomed graveyard underground,
Where even sunlight would not go,
To resurrect them,
Then, there was a ray of light,
From the moon,
Guiding us from darkness to light,
Bringing us new hope and a new life,
That would be started afresh!
An ancient story
from the emerald isle
the jewel of every
Irish heart treasured
unwrapping it's beauty
waves of green
like a tidal wave
Core of our ancestors
plucking them straight
from the ground
a little scarce
Taking them home
of great pride
as I wash them clean
putting the cleaned shamrocks
in a glass
as taught down
from my guardian parents
Come our saints day
I will have a massive
knowing i could
sell a big chunk
to a few friend smiling
with spare ones
left at home
laughing out loud
to our great
on our day
from our soil
is truly magical
amongst the Irish
the blessed trinity
a tale of lore
in Tir Na Og
meaning in English
land of forever young
Our true Irish flag
is the harp and shamrock
dating back to the fianna
warriors of a king
he is Paddy
and i am one
very proud patron
On this wave
of green rises
for our great Saint
raising my glass
drowning Paddies shamrock
in good style
Unblinking as the sun rises.
Always thinking before venturing.
Falling through the lines of a cornfield.
Starting in front of the Battlefield.
Crying into the night as a lost soul.
Fighting for their goal.
To unite all in the peace that surpasses.
To keep a vigil on a hill that rises.
To the flickering of a candle lighting.
This is a special case to many.
Most of whom are unknown to us.
Most share in the common goal.
What could it be.
What drives them forward.
What keeps them true.
What keeps them brave.
Helps us see into our selves.
Keeps our young in a loving embrace.
Keeps our people united.
Brings in Peace throughout what.
The only answer "US".
Everyone in the world today.
Everyone to come to live here.
The entire Universe that awaits.
Keep the hope, love, and faith.
Without that then all is waist.
Now go on and let not you be lost.
This goes to all the people.
All the nations of the world.
But most of all this goes to the Soldier.
May the higher power be with you.
This is also for those of 9/11.
Passing on one
less side order;
less grease in the junkyard
of a stomach
One less hundred dollar shirt
One less orgasm for the pretentious ego,
can maybe feed
our neighbors and blood
A stone throw away
stands children up to our knee's
Choking on their salivia
gnawing at only finger nails
Young eyes should be taken with
But vanity cannot be slapped down;
we were chosen to live in the gold
and watch others drown in mud
The rich and proud
live in a fairy land
walking on a soft
Sleeping on a cloud of pillows
Complaining that our food is too
the city is closing for the night
stores draw their blinds one by one
every street is dark save for the dim
Downtown streetlights bending at the neck
like weighted stems of steel. Rockefellers
and Carnegie have built the city in layers:
clinics, factories, the rounded arch hotels
what is not there than fortune? Further Downtown
has changed with neon lights flashing from
4th Street Bar and Grill on The Corner Alley where
they serve stylish late dinner at night so before you leave
Downtown have a day at West Side Market, howl at the
Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, visit houses turned galleries
and other places that make Cleveland a great City
of course, the great Lake and Tri-C welcomes
you to adventure and a brighter future beyond pine trees
yet, drifting along silent paths alone is a soul walking
to a desolate corner of the city where alone with the family
their souls swirl like clouds of birds vanishing into the sky
and soon will fade like a smoke into thin air
pacing down the road rolling silently through the frost
in the dark after the nightshift is this soul with his head in his palms
the neon lights of Downtown ended where his air smells of salt
and his lover’s body was once found in the cold snow
it’s his third job of the day but you can’t find eggs on his dinner table
in Cleveland there are many young beech-trees on the edge
trembling to stand still beneath their pale skies and they shudder
like leaves in the light air afraid of the star beyond their reach
and my heart fills slowly with tears that will never dry
Those who stretched out their chests like lions
in front of the pipes of guns are now the kings of highways.
Those who died helplessly jumping into the gape of the invading shark
are now alive in the din and bustle of life.
And those who escaped hiding themselves into the darkness
of their cunning are now mere oblivion,
mere broken graveyard surrounded by dreary emptiness.
Actually those who have learnt to contempt the eyes of vulture
have the right of living only.
Only those who have learnt like pincers to uproot the poisonous teeth of cobra have the right of love.
Those who know how to show thumb to the carnivorous animals
have the right of life.
Freedom and sovereignty are only for those who have learnt to play with life like chopper and spear
and who have learnt to shed one river blood
for flowers and poems,
for man and soil.
Behold, those who were alive are now mere ghosts
having died and got rotten utterly.
But those who sacrificed their lives in the inflame of love
are now reigning in the realm of life.
Truly the detestable death of man is in his foolish living;
life is only in war and death.
pessimists say weed, highlanders say emblem,
summit of strength, protected by spikelet's and hardiness,
bewitching and captivating flower, irresistible to man and deity.
armed stem defends and supports, tipped with the pride of Scotland,
coverage of clover hardened by the elements and stone,
the luck of the Irish forged by four petite leaves of green,
beauty of the landscape holds the power of this innate country,
tough together, alone are inspired by the magic of Ireland.
welsh pride holds the immense beauty of this tubular trumped flower,
colour of the sun, kissed by raindrops, blessed by a lush green land,
elegant and graceful, this adept nation holds this flower in their hearts,
the proud stance exclaiming its right to its land of the fathers.
Memorial Day 2000
Those Left Standing
Written: by Tom Wright
Fashioned of assorted granite stone,
As if in manicured rows;
To friends and loved one's gone,
Their numbers uncontrollable,
For each year it always grows.
Oft times from deep in solitude,
In sadness, I'm reminded,
And at mere sight
Of one small flag;
I swell with pride
And oft by tears am blinded.
Desperately trying in my spirit,
Not to brag.
I, in deepest thought,
On this 2000 Memorial Day,
Am silently taken back
To the place of Flanders Field,
Where neat white crosses
Stand by the way,
As if cloned, among red poppies,
It's only living yield.
I see a Moving Wall
Meticulously chiseled in granite black;
Bearing Viet Nam casualties,
Each, remembered by name;
I think of those yet living,
And about their lack;
As for their treatment,
We all must share some blame.
Once forced to fight a war.
Said by many,
To have been unjust;.
But duty bound to country,
In that land afar,
In God's hands,
Put their lives and trust.
To those of Desert Storm
Having experienced combat days,
I shall endeavor to remember
Those who fell,
Yet baring scars of war in another way;
Those haunted by tormented faces,
Scud Missiles and deaths smell.
Hero's who served,
And gallantly died;
To those I cannot express,
The trappings of my heart;
To those who served,
And returned with pride
Let thanks, gratitude and prayers,
Be my humble start.
It is the noblest honour to serve,
But the most natural thing to love,
I present to you this conundrum,
Which is better to love or to serve?
To love is natural, to serve is noble,
Yet there exists no greater foe than these,
Man must choose,
If love triumph nobility is sacrificed,
If service triumph passion is sacrificed,
To ask man not to serve is blasphemy,
To ask man not to love is inhumane,
Shall we become stone’s to serve or
Become traitors to love.
True service enlists love, and there can
Be no love without service.
For which is better the love of a women
Or the admiration of men.
My weeping is two-fold,
One for never dreaming and
The other for never loving.
The Blood of Martyrs
“He stood aloof the Negro youth
What of his future?”
When the guns thunder
In Cameroon or Côte-d’Ivoire
In Mali or Burkina Faso
Beads of blood still pearling
Running from the martyrs’ hot bodies
I vainly ask to know:
Why are the ill-stricken dictators so greedy
And their peoples so eloquently silent?
Gabon- Togo-Cameroon- Tunisia- Egypt-
What is going on?
What of our time? What of man?
Nothing but words.
Words of those who see with
Those who have gained
Nothing of their heritage
If not Samory’s puzzle.
The spring keeps growing
Swallowing creeds to bear greeds
In spite of Ebola and the wars
In spite of Aids killing thousands of people
In spite of the minority who with the help
Of the majority eat from the fruit
Of the majority’s vote
In spite of growing desert….
N’Gaoundéré, 16th February 2010
he’ll go riding with the horses
and then cook up some snags
grab some beer for the cricket
wait, here it comes…
loves the tennis and his footy
loves to surf the Byron waves
enjoys a parma at the local
where everyone’s his mate
pumps up Barnsey in his V8
when he’s headed down the street
and even though they’re strangers
still smiles at everyone he meets
loves nothing more than camping
the smell of gum trees in the air
eats vegemite for breakfast
there’s nothing that compares
his home is his castle
his favourite songs True Blue
as dinky di as they come;
he’s an Aussie through and through!
So here we are in the 21st century
acting like a flock of birds that suddenly went blind
and flew into a red brick wall.
We have to worry about the outbreak of Ebola,
and ISIS murdering and taking over the globe,
and climate change that’s melting the ice,
and why there’s no sure-fire cure for Lyme disease,
and why our politicians favor their own personal agendas
over helping us citizens live a happy and healthy life.
Maybe we’ve become an illogical species
that treat the facts about how we behave
as a can of recyclables like a plastic soda bottle
or an empty can of peas or beans
or an unread newspaper gathering dust in the trash.
Maybe we think our current behavior
couldn’t be reincarnated as an instrument of our demise
even when we act like a distracted driver of modern-day car
that kills a Raccoon crossing the road to visit with his lover.
They call it
Government no comment
keep us guessing
Keep us stressing
Just to eat
Now they arresting
8 Million jobs lost
within a year
around the corner
Is it near?
America the beautiful
The most powerful
by head authorities,
Worst job lost
falls on the minorities
I guess America will always
have your back
Unless you are a
Well lets just call it
Between the vale, the mountains that surround me,
The grass seems greener though the frost does slightly cover,
The mornings dew, drops as once did the tears from my eyes,
Like the winding trodden path, my life seemed to lead to nowhere,
Now like the mountains tree's, I'm standing tall and strong,
Where once was trapped, You've opened the gate to pastures New,
Like the collieries, the mines which once was thriving with fuel,
Now empty inside,lost and abandoned, no fuel to light the fire within,
Now there is fire, fueled from your words, your gentle soul provides,
You've made me the red dragon, the symbol of hope, strength and pride...
Forgive and Forget my sins
Pardon all of my regrets
For if I die this night
Here’s my confession
I’m the face
That launched a thousand ships
And sent a hundred more to their death
I can’t say beauty is a curse nor a gift
It’s only something you live with
At some point you stop looking in the mirror
Don’t want to face the truth
Rather be the one with the sword
Than have it your throat
You follow the rules
Until you break them
Forgive and Forget my sins
Pardon all of my regrets
For if I die this night
Here’s my confession
I’m the face
That launched a thousand ships
And sent a hundred more to their death
I can’t say what I did was right or wrong
Obviously I never thought of the consequences
I led a war without thought
Coincidently we lost
Soldiers driven with fear
But patriotism they fought
My heart is coated in their blood
This is my Eulogy
Sons of peasants
Insolent and craving
For Grandeur, nay for
Trampling to death,
Proud, oh! Too proud
To see death beside
Just waiting the
Officers and officials
Pale, empty, worldly
Certificates at shaky hand
Oubliettes, wine and whores
They prefer to our flags
And behind they lag, rank
Forgetting the killing
Chadians of early sacrifices
Heroes of the resistance
Who for freedom died
Here or there
Martin Paul Samba
Félix Roland Moumié
Who said that these
Were not brave?
Let new heroes emerge
From the North
Let heroes come home
Singing our national anthem
O thou land of our fathers!
To glorify the leading star he obits the big named performer
with blank face in shabby clothing and for his part is so minute
it doesn’t matter whether he exists or not.
Although, he falls under the sword with gushing blood,
killed by a single gun shot without a word, or dies
by a thrusting spear with a short groan, no one cares
to cry for his tragic death, because he has no name, no tomb.
A day of extra’s life is to learn how to wait and to survive
through one day at a time. He roams around the studio patiently
for his given day and, while roaming around the empty studio
he becomes a dim shadow under the darkening sky,
and when the sky getting darker and darker he follows the sets
with a moon, with the stars, to the location where the scenery
that is to shot and glorify the big name, as the truckloads that
move along in a long formed line.
If you spend a day in Hades, it will shorten a day of given life.
For death is proof of the contrary to the living, and waiting game
is the part of extra’s life, though the life seemed to be worthless, and therefore, no cast of a play is given for his sake, the extra, the leftover life, also is the existing being until he falls under the sword, killed from a single bullet, trusted to die by a spear.