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Ballad History Poems | Ballad Poems About History

These Ballad History poems are examples of Ballad poems about History. These are the best examples of Ballad History poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ballad | |

Running Tide

Knee deep in surf
The water clung to her
Changing silk gown
To wrinkled shiny  skin
Never had I envied ocean water so
But then t'was I who'd let her go
Drowning in green eyes
With fear of clinging ties
Holding me back

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Bruise Me

You always try
to break me down
you always try to knock me out
damage me with just your words
not physical but it still hurts
and all you do is make it worse.

You bruise me
Cut me with your tounge
Brutalize me, cut and binding
as my blood pours from the scars.
You bruise me
and it's really nothing more.

Berate me
go on hate me
it's something you love to do
yell at me, because now i see
there's nothing left for me with
Your eyes so cold, words are old
nothing else that you can say
times running out, it's over now
and your the one who bruised
it away.

You bruised me
Cut me with your silver tounge
Brutalize me, cut and binding
As my blood pours from the scars
You bruised me
And really nothing more.

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Clan Call

Tearing gusts of highland winds dim the sound of pipes
No one knows and no one sees and no one sets it right, 
Heavy hearted sadness carries, other souls who went ahead, 
Ghosts of kindred spirits living now or living dead, 
Running through the gorse and heather wishing for a horse to ride, 
Disregarding wind and weather, Grim, the reaper by my side. 
Places I would rather see.... Home's still where I yearn t' be, 
I'll never have you there with me... 'tis lost...
both love
and pride

Jonji ‘s dance within my mind
and well within the ken o’ men
I just prepped the canvas

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The Ballad of Pearl Harbor

Just sitting there mighty 
The ships and the people.
Flying American
Flags and the eagle.
Just sitting in harbor
That Sunday morn,
Oblivious to battle
And coming forlorn.

Drinking their coffee
And eating their breakfast
Things were going
Right along with their wishes
When suddenly a soldier
Did speak up and say,
"They're some blips on the radar
And they're coming our way!"

Then the officer said
"Now look here you see,
They're our boys coming home
In their B-17's.
So don't get all worked up,
No excitement today,
So get back to working
And resting and play!"

Now planes flying by
Were soon to be heard
But a shout soon went up
"Hey! Those are not our birds!"
Explosions to follow
Soon filled the sky
Now stand up and fight,
Or lay down and die

Guns fired back,
The battle was on,
But pretty soon after
The battleships were gone!
They were stuck in the harbor
With no way out,
And smoke's hanging over
The harbor in clouds

A valiant defensive 
The defenders put forth
Desperately trying to
Even the score,
But their goals completed
The enemy turned back
Leaving behind them
Devastation and black

Many men died
On that fateful day
But a little luck came
The American's way!
Their carriers were still,
Far out at sea,
And part of the battle
They never did be!

Pearl Harbor will live on 
In infamy
Stories of those who died
To keep their land free!
Their ultimate sacrifice
Helped the whole world to see
That America's the land
Of the brave and the free!

Details | Ballad | |

Poem by Kasiananthan on the Tamil Diaspora and Eelam, trans by T Wignesan

The Parrot and the Woodpecker may turn...
    [Sung by TEnicayccal Cellappa]        Translated by T.Wignesan
mAnkiliyum marankottiyum                    The parrot and the woodpecker

   kUtutirumpa tatayillai                             their nests to regain  nothing waylays

nAnkal mattum ulakattilEyE                    Only we  in all this world

   nAtutirumpa mutiyavillai                        our homeland to seek may not turn      

   nAtutirumpa mutiyavillai                        our homeland to seek may not turn

                            [Above refrain repeated twice]

cinkalavan pataivAnil                               From skies filled with Sinhalese planes

  neruppai alli corikiratu                             fire tumbles down in seething showers 

enkal uyir tamil Elam                              Our lifeblood   our Tamil Eelam

  cutukAtAy erikiratu                                      a simmering graveyard on fire


tAykatarap pillaikalin                               While mothers rave in pain  children’s

 nencukalaik kilikkinrAn                             breasts  the oppressor tears apart

kAyyAkum munnE ilam                           Long before they might ripen    tender

  pincukalai alikkirAn                                  the buds crushed from burgeoning


pettavankal UrilE                                   Those who begot us back home

 Enku rAnku pAcattilE                              tossing  turning in their longing for us

ettanai nAl kArttiruppOm                       For how many days might we linger on

 atuttavan tEcattilE                                  in the other man’s refugee land

unnavum mutiyavillai                                Without proper food

 urankavum mutiyavillai                              without sufficient sleep

ennavum mutiyavillai                                Unable rightly even to think

  innumtAn vitiyutillai                                  when will the day dawn for us


kitti pullu atittu nankal                              We who played at kitti pullu*

 vilaiyAtum teruvilEyE                                  joyously in the heedless streets

katti vayttuc cutukirAnAm                         There now tethered  others lie felled

 yAr manatum urukavillai                             no  no hearts pain for us

Ur katitam patikkayilEyE                       When our eyes light on letters from home

 vimmi nencu vetikkitu                           sobs prise open our brimming breasts

pOrpulikal pakkattilEyE                         By the flanks of battling Tigers

 pOkamanam tutikkitu                            there to be  our hearts throb and yearn


Note: * A competitive game played by hitting a small stick with a bigger one, the goal being to cover the greatest distance. Also called in Tamil Nadu and Malaysia: kavuntA kavunti.                                      

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 1995. From the collection: “Words for a Lost Sub-Continent” (2001). Excerpted from “Kasi Ananthan: Poet Laureae of Tamil Eelam” by T. Wignesan in Hot Spring: A Journal of Commitment, Vol. 3, No. 9 (London), December 1998, pp. 17-18.

Details | Ballad | |

NO MAN STANDS ALONE - The Ballad of Barney Ross

No man stands alone
in the street, the ring or the combat zone
some lay in the gutter
some sit on a throne
but no man stands alone

At the age of fourteen 
he had a dream
to become a rabbi 
Chicago 1924
then his dad was killed by men
who tried to rob the family store
his brothers and sisters were sent away
to an orphanage where they would stay
and though his faith was blown away
he vowed to bring them home someday

To God and man revenge he swore
he walked with gamblers, 
hoods and whores
he fit right in 
then on a whim
he walked into a boxing gym
he fought Canzoneri in ‘33
for the lightweight title victory
he made up with God 
and finally
he could reclaim his family

Those McLarnon fights 
were the stuff of lore
the only man 
to ever put him on the floor
he won two out of three, 
then in the Armstrong bout
he nearly died 
but was never knocked out
then in 1941
the Japanese pulled a sneaky one
so he joined the marines 
and he got a gun
and he sailed into the rising sun

On Guadalcanal, 
he fought so brave
overmatched like old King Dave
he put twenty attackers 
in an early grave
for the one marine 
whose life he saved
in a hospital bed 
for months and days
they kept him in a morphine haze
then sent him home 
strung out and beat
to the pushers on the mean, mean street

Hollywood was very keen
to put his story on the silver screen
but they focused on the drug abuse
he tried to sue 
but what’s the use?
Barney Ross was brave and strong
they couldn’t keep him down for long
his rabbi said that he must try
to be a model Jew in the public eye

but from the public eye he slipped
like a phantom radar blip
they say he hunted Nazi criminals
and he ran some guns to Israel

Barney Ross was brave and strong
I thought that he deserved a song
he did some bad
he did some good
and he saved the world
the best he could

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The Alien

The Alien.
"Here's the village Idiot
Here comes the loony fool"
So many taunts did follow him
Oh kids can be so cruel!
The Alien, his face all cowed
With caution treads his way
As the gossip done, invades him every day.

He's a shade too short on mighty brawn
He's a pilgrim of the soul
He's a Sailor floating through his dreams
And he has no worldly goals
And when those kids kicked footy balls
And swore and carried on
The alien got lost  within his own song.

He's been told that he be nothing
By so many through the years
And now his body broken
Still wading in his fears
The wings have made to open up
So the butterfly may rise
And so the mighty Phoenix 
must head he for the skies.

Dec 22 2003.

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The Forgotten Ones

Forgotten somewhere in the midst of steel and concrete. 
Bound by shackles and chains even in our sleep. 
Living like wolves preying amongst lost sheep. 
Concrete tears and pains so mindfully deep. 

Forgotten by those on the outside. 
We cant even run no where, we cant even hide. 
No choice left but to sit and fight. 
In here only the strong minded survive. 
Truth be told in here what is wrong is right. 

All most os us got is wasted M&^*&F*^&&ng time. 
We sit back and work out and write heartfelt rhymes. 
Not to be a victim of prey we all trying. 
Many stories are told, songs are written of truth over lying. 

We are gone for the moment but not truly forgotten so the hurt we must not show it.
 We are to old while we young to be crying in front of full grown men for this is a time we must out grow it.
 There aint no way out this hell hole and we all know it. 
Feelings of hopelessness surrounds te heart to the point where we can no longer control it.
In here there is only time no fun. 
Darkness fills night no light shone in here from the sun. 
Only by our own selves we may be out done. 

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I am the face of misery
My life, a dissonance of autumn and spring,
The years are written in the same
Lugubrious, nostalgic grey
How can it be the author to blame?
I cannot scream this all away…
Burn nor Bleed this all away…
To Death I am Ordained

Lacuna ever growing
With Velvet sheets of life flowing
Aeons apart of my "royalty"
Under the mask the cannot see...
Can you dispel this tragedy:
Antigone - Epiphany failing

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,

No words of hope
No words of hate
Do I have Lenore to send to me:
The sordid child of Thebes
Caught In the longest nightmare
life - the slowest way to die

I know this is my life 
But I'm not under control
under the mask the will see
Just Another Human

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,

Can you dispel my life; this tragedy?
Can you control the storm in my mind?
I'm asking you: can you rid me
Of The Curse of Antigone?

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He was out of Woodie Wonder by the stallion Sunset Hue, 
A freak thought breeding purists, who would surely end up glue. 
For greys were so unfashionable he'd never get a start, 
But this colt was a fighter with a truly valiant heart. 
His origins were New South Wales, but sold up Queensland way, 
'Twas Pippos, Coorey, Bishop and McMicking bought the grey. 
A Goondiwindi syndicate, who gave the colt his name; 
Gunsynd ...  the punter's darling ...  who raced his way to fame. 
He'd never be a Peter Pan, a Carbine or Phar Lap, 
No Tullock or a Galilee, but still a gallant chap. 
Bill Whelow was his trainer and John Edmonds rode The Grey, 
Till finally at Eagle Farm this colt was on his way. 
It was the Hopeful Stakes that day in nineteen sixty-nine, 
Young Gunsynd flashed from thirteenth place to cross the winner's line. 
His trademark was his courage, his will to want to win 
And how he made the crowds all stand to cheer the grey horse in. 
They loved The Grey's performances;  a showman through and through 
And though he never always won they saw him as true blue. 
Before and after races, he would play the press and crowd 
By standing to attention while they clapped and cheered aloud. 
With twelve wins to his credit Tommy Smith was now the chap, 
Who trained Gunsynd while Langby won the Epsom Handicap. 
He was the punter's darling, for he never squibbed a race, 
That's why the folk all loved him, for he never did lose face. 
The white and purple colours were well known at ev'ry track, 
Australia's best known jockeys sat astride old Gunsynd's back. 
The likes of Olsen, Higgins and young Langby rode The Grey 
And flashed to blist'ring finishes, he raced no other way. 

In over fifty starts Gunsynd had twenty-nine great wins; 
Some eight point five times second placed, but took it on the chin. 
Six thirds and unplaced in ten starts throughout those grand five years, 
His name was up there with the best who'd raced to great careers. 
Though sold to stud in New South Wales, Kia Ora down near Scone, 
Queenslanders all adopted him and saw him as their own. 
He'd put old Gundy on the map and right down to this day 
Gunsynd is still remembered as The Goondiwindi Grey. 

Details | Ballad | |

The Rebellion of '57

'''tis Power that rules men,not men-- When they but have misused That Power, to abduct their soul-- For It then stands abused.'' So at such time when Anguish With rage, had undone The bonds that with-held the blaze In hearts of everyone, To over-throw the unjust rule, There was an uprise; To win-over our Liberty, There was The Uprise...: A feeble Nation rose to fore, To fight the unjust Company, And India--She rose in uproar-- Indians rose to mutiny. With swords and shields, hearts of gold, A clan of Warriors rose, Against a mighty cannon-force, The Clan of Warriors rose. Here, wars were waged, There battles won, With valour-ridden thought; Then lives were lost in the field 'gainst the forces of distraught. The final picture was of Death-- Of the stabbed, the beaten and bruised, For against gun and mortar-bolt Sword and stick was used.....

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On Roman ruled British isle, to the deacon and his wife fair; 
On a beautiful morn, our Patrick was born, in a forth century lair 

Young and bright as a button; taken by knavish raiders - not fair
At tender age sixteen, long time not be seen, a dutiful slave to Eire

God spoke to devoted Patrick in a dream on this Emerald Isle
Boarded ship and set sail, in Britain to tell the tale; Gaul: priesthood and file
In 432, back to Eire to convert the pagans worshiping even a rock 
To explain the Holy Trinity, enlightening them till affinity, he used the shamrock

Pat inspired the Irish festival, history tells his colour was blue,
The wearing of the Green, even if one can't keen - Skyfest invites all parties true

Sung by a tone deaf (they all were) mistrel, tanked up on green beer

See the About section for details on which this poem was based. Thank you.

Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms:
This metre (BALLAD METRE) may also be interpreted (and sometimes printed) as a couplet of seven-stress lines, as in Kipling's ‘Ballad of East and West’ (1889):

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In the Library of BMCC

Surrounded by heavy tomes 
Chronicling the history of 
   countless generations 
One can only feel a sense of 
    awe that the weight of 
the past has upon the living 
  A brief look around me 
allows me to see the coming generation 
   Working diligently 
to achieve their goals 
   What will become of these youth 
in the next few years?
Some may die fighting on foreign shores 
Otheres will die young due to bad habits 
Some may achieve great success 
  Picking up my pen 
I try to evoke the scene in the library 
of the Borough of Manhattan Community College 
Where many different 
Merge into a quilt of hope!

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The old man and his grandson viewed 
A barren bladeless ground. 
When to his left the young lad's eye 
Saw bleached bones scattered 'round. 
'Twas more than one beast's bones that lay 
There exposed to the sun. 
It seemed more like a battlefield 
Where only death had won. 
The old man saw the young lad wince, 
He reined in close behind. 
As memories of what took place 
Came flooding through his mind. 
A century turned, but not his luck, 
For rains had failed again. 
He slowly watched the dams dry up 
While cattle died in pain. 
A little water still remained 
Though sought by feral stock. 
Some brumbies which came down at dawn 
Still often used the block. 
In good times no one cared that much, 
But not so any more. 
The young lad's dad and this old man 
Both knew what lay in store. 
A high log fence closed off the dam, 
The timber they had sawn. 
Suspended gate it lay in wait 
For piccaninny dawn. 
Then as the last mare ambled through 
Wood gate it dropped like lead. 
A wood rail race seemed their escape, 
But death lurked there instead. Their capital had all dried up, 
No cash for lead and gun. 
To execute the feral stock 
Took knife and old man's son. 
With legs astride the wood rail race 
Son grimaced as he drew 
That blade of death 'cross jug'lar vein, 
Then slapped the victim through. 
Each fleet foot spirit faltered there 
A hundred yards away, 
While blazing eyes showed fear of death, 
Mouths gave a weakened neigh. 
Then one by one their weak frames fell 
Onto the dusty ground. 
The racing hearts of those poor beasts 
Then gave their final pound. 
The slaughter did not save the stock 
For all the dams went dry. 
It fin'ly broke the old man's son, 
He watched the grown man cry. 
All this the old man told the lad, 
The picture was now drawn. 
On why his dad then took his life 
One piccaninny dawn. 

The young lad then took from his head
his father's sweat stained hat
And as he wiped the tears away
He said, Gramps thanks for that."
I'd always had my doubts you see
About the way Dad died,
But now I know the truth at last
I'll wear this hat with pride.

Details | Ballad | |


I will laugh as loud as I can..
Laughter that comes within me..
Laughter that shakes even me..
Laughter that may end up to tears..

I will smile as wide as I can..
A smile showing evenly my teeth..
A smile that goes all thru my eyes and lips..
A smile that may melt and encourage you to smile..

I will sing as like a nightingale..
Hitting the high and low notes..
Dancing even in carefree..
Until, I own a space of mine..

I will care as much as I can..
Remembering that Caring is act of charity..
Putting into mind that life will be better..
Doing it now not tomorrow..

I will forgive as I much I can..
For God from heaven, forgives me too..
For this will keep peace into the world..
For this will end feud or war..

I will love as much as I can..
Bearing into mind that this what my God wants..
Showing unceasingly without asking for return..
Knowing this will tight the world's bound..

by: olive_eloi
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Details | Ballad | |

Deadman Wonderland

Now that you're becoming Undone It's time to have some fun In Deadman Wonderland Khoon Tu Kao Khoon Tu Kao Khoon Tu Kao The setting Red Sun of Kali Shows it's time for your life to Pay We are the Kind to be feared -your friends We look like anyone you see Thuggee--Death's Devotees Face our treachery Bhowanee we must please She needs more--we have found our mark, our mark Won't you be the one to save humanity? Can't you see this is Deadman Wonderland Khoon Tu Kao Khoon Tu Kao Khoon Tu Kao Sacrifice! For The Black-Skinned Queen Sacrifice! For Our Mother Kali Sacrifice! It's Not Enough Sacrifice! No Mercy! This is Deadman Wonderland Deadman Wonderland This is Deadman Wonderland Deadman Wonderland

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Cap'n and the Wench -part the fifth-

Cap'n & the Wench *part the fifth* Says the Wench to the Cap'n " We'll dabble in Real Estate!" So says the Cap'n to the Wench " 'Twould seem 'tis our Fate! As Tales are often Told from Time to Time & Again~ So doth it go twixt Wenches & those very Bold Men~ This Great Saga of the Cap'n & that Wench so Very Dear~ Had been begun then to continue Year after ever Year~ But all Sailors well know if'n they've oft Smartly Tacked~ Yer in Irons fer certain if'n yer Royals are Backed~ Makin' speed astern would allow such One chance to Box~ Mindin' Gales gone a'lee creatin' Naught but Fear~ Only a keen SeaWolf might again Sail as would the Fox~ All surely believin' his Great Ship could naught but Wear~ 'Twould be a course destined by Fate were the Helm hard a'Lee~ Maidens of the Depths gatherin' as Winds did'st now Howl~ Yet t'was a plot laid by SeaWolf as his heart Set him Free~ For Great Winds & Waves now did'st appear & Truly Growl~ From Deep Down under this Tormented Surface~ Came now to the ears of all Those now Enraged~ Softly with Empathy & Fanciful Purpose~ Silent Sounds heard well ~ all distinct Reason had Swayed~ Lee Rail's buried beneath Wind Torn Sea~ Gale a Howlin' thru the Riggin' & Spars~ From SeaWolf nary a word nor any Certain Plea~ His Eyes & that 'sprit a'fixed on Far Stars~ This Tale oft whispered in Taverns & Pits....... Ye'll hear it fer certain Bit by little Bit..... Pay Heed to Lessons Learned thus Herein..... 'Twere it to be Pleazure in life yer Truly to Win~ For Never Again Will Be Seen that Great Ship at Sea~ Only possibly for some who truly Set themselves Free~ In Dream Foggy Nights fiesty with Calm Swells~ Listen Well off in the distance for that Great Ships Bell! SeaWolf ©

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He Knows So Much

To haave a conwerstation,
is out of the question,
because he knows so much.

Forever by his self,
your love is on a shelf.
because he knows so much.

His every move he makes
you know what it will take
because he knew so much.

Just want to laugh and play.
have him listen to what you say,
No, because he knows so much.

Going out of my mind,
for just some quality time,
but, that is just too much.

So alone I sit,
without a word to fit,
because he knows so much.

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The sunyassin

As far as I know this is a true story about Alexandra the great...Peter

The Sannyasin.

Alexander said to Dandamis
"Old man you come with me
For I need me a sannyasin
To take across the seas.
Hey you be just a beggar man
I'll make you rich indeed
You'll live a life of luxury
With everything you need.

Dandamis standing naked there
With silence in his essence
He had no fear at all did he
In the mighty leaders presence.
He said "I'll give you nothing friend
And there's nothing that I need
So Alexandra drew his sword
Tried to make the beggar plead.

Dandamis laughed and said these words
With power in his voice
"You can put that sword right through my heart
My friend, that be your choice.
But I left this body long ago
I have no use for it
So pierce this heart my fine young friend
It won't harm me a bit.

Alexander he was beaten
By a fearless beggar man
Though he had won most of the world
Dandamis foiled his plans.
The beggar said "You say you're great
But that's not true at all
For any man that thinks he's great
He be merely a fool

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From The Lament of The Lucretian

Bear-away, Charlie,
Back her up!
She's filled to the rim like a saltwater cup.
Heat up her engines
Into the lee—
Do you hear that sound?
All hands hoay!
Poor old Lucie's run a ground—
Too late, Charlie,
Let it be.
There goes another man plucked by the sea...

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On Roman ruled British isles,
   On a sunny morn
Forth century on the day of Ides  
   Our Patrick was born
To the deacon and his wife fair; 
   A beautiful morn
And priest grandfather who care’
   Their Patrick was born

He, young and bright as a button 
   This could be clearly seen
Was Patrick the lad and glutton
   Tall for his age at sixteen 
 Taken as a slave to nearby Eire 
   At tender age sixteen
by knavish raiders – this not fair
    Long time not to be seen

God visited Patrick in a dream 
    On this Emerald Isle
 When revealed to him to stream
   Patrick broke rank and file
He boarded a ship and set sail 
    left this unwelcome isle
In Britain to tell all the tale
   Then Gaul - priesthood and file

In 432, back to Eire to convert them 
   A land green with shamrock
From their polytheism to stem
   Worshiping even a rock
To explain the Holy Trinity 
   He used the shamrock
Enlightened them till affinity
   They accepted *The Rock

To explain the Holy Trinity 
   He used the shamrock
Enlightened them till affinity
   They accepted The Rock
They are wearing the Green
They are wearing the Green...

*Rock of Ages

21 January 2013


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Men were given total dominion
over all living things, and when
they subdued their enemy:
they were granted immortality!

Beside every great warrior of old, 
there was a strong woman of humility,
who gave him a victorious  sword;
and helped him change the course of history! 

Emperess Theodora was one of them to show adversity;
when Noka's revolt broke out:  she decided to stay,
while her hushand, Justinian, fled the city;
what an admirable act of feminity!

Beside every great warrior of old,
there seems to be a look of invincibility,
a defying moment to obtain glory;
and the cost for a golden crown is well-known!

Be the warrior of modern times, treatened by fear and fragility, 
seek out the man you were destined to be;
trust that woman who posseses internal beauty,
and beside this warrior, her courage will guide you with dignity!

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yellow walls of the ceiling stained from the smoke most who inhailed are nolonger drinking in the same looking down from above or maybe up from below listen to the sound and still the smell of stained wood floor beer that soaked from history of the years the voices of the past for once this bar was filled with singing, screaming, fighting, now your all bared they never came back, ghosts in a empty is bar .

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The Sea-Farers And The Sea

Flow! Flow! Flow!
Thou sea of silence
Carrying friends and foes
The gentle sounds of 
Waves lapping thru the
Evening like a moving
 Blow! Blow! Blow!
Thou east wind,thy 
Tender hands caress our 
Gliding bark as we break 
Into the warm waters.
Look! The sun gazes at 
These sea-farers whose 
Quest we know not.
Far beyound the horizon
Lies treasures of untold 

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Big beautiful eyes that capture my heart
Dark brown like her mothers
Can't tell them apart
She talks up a storm of baby word sounds
And we all repeat them, astonished and proud
Her birthday is coming it's gonna be swell
Her parents are acting like children as well
They argue and fight and put her through hell
They think it won't damage her
She's too young to tell
That mommy and daddy don't fit like a glove
And she'll grow up and pick out the same man
to love. They'll fight and they'll argue in
front of their child and they won't
understand how now they're reviled.   
It started way back before she was one; so please stop
the cycle and look what you've done.   You're
repeating mistakes that your parents have
made.   No turning the clock back the bed has
been made.   Another generation is sleeping in it.

Copyright ©2000  Karen  M Feist

Details | Ballad | |

Reviled Castaway

A mom tucked in her child one night In bliss he fell asleep Her horror grew at day’s first light She could not help but weep A changeling lay in her son’s place With wings, large hooves and tail She scorned the babe who sought embrace “Lord, curse the troll,” she wailed For in the night a being crept Through her New Jersey home A fiend was left as she had slept A gift from Satan’s gnome Her handsome son, such envy sparked Now resting in a troll’s domain The changeling’s face by Satan marked And love she could not feign This curse she felt was envy pure She could not bear its sight A hateful child she’d not endure Such scorn did he ignite To Mother Leeds this thirteenth child Became a castaway It flew into the pines reviled And to this day seeks prey
*Based on the legend of the New Jersey Devil. Changelings are infants that are replaced overnight by devilish imps from trolls or elves according to Irish legend. Entry for the “Creepy Irish Creatures” contest.

Details | Ballad | |


Like the folded petals and bud, I'll bloom and flower..
Like the worm, I'll change and I on metamorphosis...
Like a seed, I'll grow and bear fruit..

Like a baby crawl, little by little I'll stand...

Life is a constant continuous progress..
Even our age passes the time..

Time a nonstop reminder of events..
Mirror a reflection of unstoppable changes..

Yet, deeds and actions leaves irreplaceable  imprints..
Through even decades sprint...

by: olive_eloi

Details | Ballad | |


I love my Mousey,
She lives in a field in BrushCreek, Tennessee,
Walking with her her of cattle,
As happy as she will ever be.

Without this there would be only she,
And i could make her as happy as me,

I miss her immensly, for thee i wish well,
For everyday i wish she wont sell, 
And I could show her in the Dekalb County Fair,
I would sell never an ounce of her.
Hehe not even one of her little white hairs.

Even when all the way over there,
Mine she is for no one but me to share, if I do so happen to dare.

Cute as a button,
A button her nose may well be,
Where I first touched her sweet little body,
Not once but twice sweetly,
For wherever she goes I could spot her, along with her sister and mother.

Many a mile away, for she is not at all,
Not at all what you would say a little grayish thing.

But a heifer who grows daily,
Only to shove the motherly tears away.
In my eyes though, she will always be, forever and always, my baby girl, my sweetie,
my beautiful girl, my Mousey

Details | Ballad | |


Thus the world was ruined, By the sin of a single man. A tiny twist in the story, Brought about a change in God’s plan. For out of the garden they were thrown With nothing but rags to cover themselves; But with wisdom so dangerous yet powerful That opened the gateway to hell.

Details | Ballad | |

Steel Silk and Thunder

Steel Silk and Thunder

You ask me to condense this time, you say –
You ask how well I can squeeze and squander all
This day.
These thoughts are days and weeks full with moments
Stretched across the sky.
I see this all too clearly, how your will is brought
How unrelenting love can be; it drives the eyes
To see such fury – such wondrous spinnings in
The void; all one seeks chases now in folly;
This word appears again: Folly.
For foolish is the cover source of eye to shield.
All simple bleak remorse and cannon content
Bleeds within; a sleek sliver of truth confines me this
Moment; this baleful, primordial day’s mourning;
Oh, God I have loved thee so, I see you in the
Trees and skies, yet all slips through my hands
In measure; all is lost in fleeting pleasure – in
Movement, in matter of fuss and confusion; in
All I see amid horizons forming nothing, but 
This must be as it is this day –
I accept your dimly wrought decision.

Details | Ballad | |

Robert the hood Knight of the wood part 1

Honor among thieves in the twisted tells of greenwood                                              William do tell of arrows and marks met well, the hood                                                 The revenge of maiden Marion’s death                                                                       Robert the hood Knight of the wood                                                                                A Scottish hero or an English outlaw, where do you rest                                                  To start a war or defend what is yours, my friend                                                             I shoot the sheriff  for he was to blame                                                                           Robert the hood the knight of the wood                                                                       The hood,  the story of how it became                                                                           In the dark wood the plot of revenge                                                                            We capture some clergy, wolves in sheep’s clothing                                                       We borrow their cloaks, too do the same                                                                          Robert the hood Knight of the wood                                                                                  * part 1                  

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Called Moses by Her People

Called Moses by Her People
Harriet Tubman was the very one.
In the year of 1851.

Called Moses by her people
a slave to none.

Returning from freedom
Braving nineteen runs.

Three hundred people
Their chains undone.

Confidence, bravery,
And fearless of death.

Built the Under Ground Railroad.
She conducted by faith.

 Abolitionists, Quakers, and Senators too.
She commanded allegiance. They all were true blue.

A soldier, spy,and Civil War nurse.
Her personal safety was never put first.

Called Moses by her people.
Their daughters and sons.

She knew God wanted Freedom
For everyone.

[ Poet' View: FEBRUARY Is National Black History Month ]

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La Sibylle Blanche du Rhin

La Sibylle Blanche du Rhin La Msytique est la Specatatrice du Divine Elle Parle au mot que je ne comprends pas "Soilel vous deffinissez est mien Pourtant vous, vous laisser il saigner Comme un nouveau vin Triste - ons ne Saurant Jamais Triste - ons ne Verront Jamias" Parle a moi, si prestine La Mystique La Sibylle Blanche du Rhin La Specatatrice du Divine Ton Voix sefane dans Le Chanson entrain de Mourir

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State of the nation

This world is getting tougher to survive everyday.
The cost of living is more than my pay.
It's going to get worse that's what the old folks say.
The bad times are here and here to stay.
Just look at the shape of the U.S.A.
we're afraid to let our children go out and play.
Maybe we all need to get on uor knees and pray.

Jobs are getting harder and harder to find.
What I own ain't worth a dime.
Inflation is up and so is crime.
Alot of real good people are in a bind.
Can't even get care when your in your prime.
Most everyone you know have fallen on hard time.
I can't help them out when i'm worried about saving mine.

Career politicians keep sucking us dry.
They tax everything we own and anything we buy.
Most of us blue collars will work till the day we die.
While the rich skate through life and don't have to try.
We all have to stop living this goverment lie.
It's about time we let that eagle fly.
Remember who made this country, it was you and I.

We the people can bring her back, and put this nation back on track.
We made her strong and that's a fact, and
Noone will ever be able to take away that.

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Welcome To The World Of This Certain King

"Bring Me Wine,Myrrh and My Sweetheart Daughter Anabella,
My Little Anabella Loves To Listen To The Voice Of Salome,Her Lyre and Her 
Happy Serenade..
Tell My Scribes To Be Fast About Compiling The Exploits Of Their King In His 
Last Battle Campaign..What Is a King Without An Updated Chronicle..
Send In My Little Prince For His Voice As He Reads Through His Texts Of 
Poetry..Lures The King His Father To a Closer Salient Walk With The gods..
Tell The War Generals To Give Me A detailed Brief of Our Next Campaign.."

At Morn..
"Send In The Finest Of Thy Young Warriors..So I can Test My Stealth In The Very 
Face Of Battle and Danger...
What Have Young Men Turned Themselves into..So Lazy,Wanton and Unmanly..
Off My Sight Before I Seek Thy Skulls This Very Instant..
(In Privacy With The Head Warrior)..Oh! Sarskaas Your Young Boys Are one of the 
Best in The Region My Training Sessions Are Truelly Refreshing..Tell this not to 
them Lest you build the Fruits of Pride and Treachery in their Young Minds..
Do Usher in My Seductive Belles to Show Off Their Waists in Acts of 
Poetry,Dance and Linguistic Body Embellishments..."

At Noon..
"You The Dreaded Most Notorious KING Of the Valley..A Demi god,Invincible and 
Indestructible..As I Speak Kiss The Sole Of My Feet and eat this dish of Camel 
Dung mixed with fine desert sand..
Ax-Man when he finishes his dessert Bring me his Head on My 'Royal Golden 
Usher in the Wise Men of the South..For I want to converse with them in this 
same spirit of Saliency..
Stuff the roast Calf portions with a lot of herbs and Spices..You well know its the 
Obsession of the Men from The south.."

At Sundown..
"Usher in the different contingents of Musicians to Entertain my Salient Guests...
Wrap My 'Lotus Fumes' Quickly so I can Smoke this Life's Troubles Aways..And 
See Through the One Eye of the gods in Solemnity and Blissful Thinkings,
Head Eunuch Do Send A Servant to The Harem..He Should Tell My Queens to 
get A-Ready For Their Lord is in Good Shape for Royal Rumbles and More..
Oh! My Faithful Knights your War plans were excellent..Go Now Enjoy and Excite 
your souls as much..Retain your honour and have the War at the Back Of your 
Depart In Peace..Many A-Waists in The Harem are Restless.. 
I go in to Satisfy My Very Own.."
Welcome Again To The World Of That Certain King..

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I realize: I must not complain..
For all I have, some wants to attain..
It's not to much nor to plain..
Yet, it is enough for years to gain..

I'm neither rich nor poor..
Nor I am sick lying in bedroom..
Nor I am a person under odorous fumes..
Nor I am a being not in timely tune..

Trials stripped me off from comforts..
Obstacles lead me to tackle each effort..
Disappointments made me all the more on rapor..
Failures didn't keep me long bended injured...

I don't speak as to be proud..
I want to tell the whole world..
I have my God beside and around..
Keeping my feet totally still on ground..

by: olive_eloi

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Good listener, please lend your ear
To share my history
Before I take the poison drink,
I’ll tell you my story.

They’re coming even now to take
The city that we love
And hope is often lost and so
My tale i’ll tell you of.
	When Carthage took upon itself
To find by light of day
A general? Well your in luck!
Great Hannibal did say.

He planned to cross the mountains great
Twas thought the only way,
But first to cross the river Rhone,
Great Hannibal did pray

The river Rhone rose up and warned
	Don’t cross my waters grey!
	No way to cross? Then all was lost
	Great Hannibal did say

	Then at once stood Hannibal
	We’ll cross by th’end of day!? 	Take down those trees to make a raft
	Great Hannibal did say 

	Over the water blue they went
	Lined up in an array
	And now to Rome and battle great!
	Good Hannibal did say.
Due north he found an obstacle
	That willed him to give way,
	The northern tribes with battle cries
	Great Hannibal did slay.

	The biggest problem now was here
	Across the mountains stray
	“Great danger now we face, my men,”
	Great Hannibal did say.

	Across the mountains none did think
	That they would last a day
	Just one more hill or mountain top,
	Great Hannibal would say

	The crew were weary lost and torn
	That made them curse the day
	“But we are almost there, you see?”
	Great Hannibal did say.	

	And soon enough the walls of Rome
	Rose up as if to say
	Who ventures here with war in mind?
	Come greet us at our gates!

	But in the Roman city there
	Scipio here to stay
	“No one can beat us, no one can,”
	Great Hannibal did say.

	At Rome’s great gates for 15 years
	He waited patiently
	We can’t stay here, for food is dear,
	Great Hannibal did say.

	So he turned back to Carthage’s gates
	But met along the way
	Scipio and his army great
	Hannibal could not slay

	When all was done his quest was lost,
	And Rome would live too great,
	A treaty signed so punishing
	That Carthage lost its gate.

	And Hannibal the general
	That lost the city too
	Was forced to go to lands beyond
	And help as best he could.

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Best Buds Forever

I still remember that day when you were a kitten,
You were so small and fit in my hand like a mitten.
I knew when I held you I would raise you,
The love I felt was more than true.
I was with you at my grandma's till I could take you home, 
Then the journey of raising you began...

We brought you home and I showed you our house,
I still remember when you saw your first mouse.
You jumped out of my arms and made your attack,
I stood there and watched you get your afternoon snack.
Then we were deciding on names for you,
I just felt something with dexter and knew it was true.
I was only 8 and didn't know any better,
I did some things that I still regret.

I tormented you so bad,
Looking back it makes me sad.
But I grew up and knew how to take care of you,
Even though what I did when I was younger made me feel blue.
You grew up so fast,
I never thought me and you as buds would last.
But it did I'm so proud for that,
Because in the end your my cat.

Then came the day we would move into a bigger house,
But you never again got a hold of a mouse.
You were so scared but I took you under my wing.
I showed you around the house and you were so happy.
I redeemed myself from everything I had done.

Things got better between us as the days flew by,
The love strong that were flying so high together in the sky.
You greet me when I walk through the door,
I feel so touched that I fall to the floor.
I cherish every second that your on my bed or just saying hi in my room,
The smile that's on my face brings a tear that would make flowers bloom.

Now your all grown up and still getting older,
The temperature in my heart has gotten colder.
So cold because I know your time is soon up,
I'm struggling to figure out how full is my cup.
I only wish you could live longer and we still be together,
But we will always be best buds forever.

Details | Ballad | |

A Question of Honor

Dedicated to Noor Al-Maleki You Try, You Try so hard To put Your will Over Me But I will Remain Free I am So Dirty and So Very Unclean So Please Condemn me Sentence Me The Crescent Is A Lie The One I shall Try To Defy Is it Just To Dispose What Has Dishonored You and Your Radical Views You Have set me Free, Can't You See I Won't have to face a Tyrant anymore Your gaze used to Stun But Now It Just Burns Under the Sun Never Enough to Be Myself Never Enough to Be Free I will not Bow to You I will not Kneel Before You Smothering Liberty Condoning Freedom This way is unjust This way only brings out our worse Hatred and Mistrust War and malice no know law You Try, You Try so hard to put Your will Over Me But I will Remain Free I am So Dirty and So Very Unclean So Please Condemn me Sentence Me The Crescent Is A Lie The One I shall Try To Defy Is Just To Dispose What Has Dishonored You and Your Radical Views I am The Flame you Greatly Hate I am The Flame you greatly fear Some cannot handle the truth It shows they are the Criminals You are one of them You're the problem This misdeed will not live on without the hate of your name Honor Is not real It's just an emotion that only you feel You're another bulwark Against the truth No one Will Bow No one Will Kneel You Try, You Try so hard to put Your will Over Me But I will Remain Free I am So Dirty and So Very Unclean So Please Condemn me Sentence Me The Crescent Is A Lie The One I shall Try To Defy Is it Just To Dispose What Has Dishonored You and Your Radical Views You Fear The Truth You Fear the reality you are the criminal against all humanity We must end these lies Before Honor Will Strike again You Try, You Try so hard to put Your will Over Me But I will Remain Free I am So Dirty and So Very Unclean So Please Condemn me Sentence Me The Crescent Is A Lie The One I shall Try To Defy Is it Just To Dispose What Has Dishonored You and Your Radical Views

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The charge of the heavy mob

Half price sale, half price sale’
Half price sale today.
Into the town centre on a bus 
Rode those to be plundered.
Forward the crowd as it swayed
“Charge on your card! The cry
Into the town centre to shop
Rode those to be plundered

Shoppers to the right of them
Shoppers to the left of them
Shoppers all in front of them
Brolly and handbag drawn, at bargains 
They wondered.
Storming the shelves they yelled
On to the tills they fell
Into the jaws of debt
Into the hardest sell
Charged those that were plundered

Where are the deals they made?
Oh how they did some trade
All the town wondered 
Would bill’s ever be paid
In the homes of those
That were plundered.

Charlie Milne 2008

Thank you and sorry, Lord Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892), 

A great poet from a time of the greatest poets.

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Veterans Honored Everywhere

My daddy served till I was six.
A Navy man.  He loved his ship.

Rejecting Hero he would proclaim.
"Those who died should have that name."

Sailed many times across the waves.
Rescuing prisoners from cells as graves.

A Coxman warning of things to come.
That sound still echos to setting sun.

Blow the whistle as bugals blare!
Today Veterans shall be honored everywhere.


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Night before battle

Optio's! Centurions! Lend me your ears
But finish your rations and down your beers

For tommorow awaits the adventure of a life time
We battle our enemies for many bloody crimes

So tonight go home and bed your wives
Because some of you will lose your lives

Fill your bellies and admire your friends
For they will follow you to all your ends

Details | Ballad | |

Robert the hood Knight of the wood part 2

We enter in the sheriff’s court unnoticed at first                                                            But never close enough to quench my thirst                                                          Discovered by the twelve knights                                                                                  We retreat to the forest to fight                                                                                 Robert the hood Knight of the wood                                                                              As they draw their sword and chase in accord                                                                  The herring is on the line the foxes they cannot find                                                      We circle back to reclaim for what we came                                                                With kings men beating the brush. The castle we rush                                                Robert the hood Knight of the wood                                                                               If it were an acorn upon my child’s head                                                                          I could not have had truer aim, arrows fled                                                                    Hit it’s mark the eyes of the sheriff  twain                                                                      With his death war does ensue by my hand                                                                 Robert the hood Knight of the wood                                                                              Be brave hearts outcasts of both lands

Details | Ballad | |

The Battle of Hastings

The cold wind north, fate took its course
As fate is fain to do
For kings fall down, that bloody crown!
And still the eagle flew.

The time had come, to cross the chasm
To stop the king untrue.
From France to Wales, through storms and gales,
And still the eagle flew.

They manned the sails ere sun grew pale
For twas a hardy crew
With thousand score of men aboard 
And still the eagle flew.

Men grew weary, sea was dreary
Til land was within view 
They were ready, swords a - steady
And still the eagle flew.

In days of yore, upon the shore,
Both silent and subdued
For who says aught afore they fought
And still the eagle flew.

The marched o’er peaks til days were weeks 
The Normans, they all knew 
It would be soon, before next moon
And still the eagle flew.

In foreign land they must withstand,
With death to pay their due.
From the forest, the battle crest!
And still the eagle flew.

To conquer all, Harold will fall!
The Normans marched on through, 
Ready to kill on Senlac Hill
And still the eagle flew.

While juggling swords, he sang the words
Of Roland brave and true.
Twas Taillefer, the jester fair
And still the eagle flew.

Dead soldier there by Taillefer
Then Harold’s soldiers slew
The jester’s head, first Norman dead
And still the eagle flew.

Then time seemed froze, no swords nor blows
But blood would fall anew,
As fights broke out, with gore throughout
And still the eagle flew.

Then time resumed, all men were doomed
For such is war I knew.
Swords were flashing, knights were clashing
And still the eagle flew.

The Normans won, the battle done,
The mighty King they slew,
That great Harold, that king so bold.
And still the eagle flew.

The conqueror, the saviour
Twas William, king anew,
Upon the throne, Britain his own
For now his eagle flew.
The eagle flew with doves unto
That field of gore wasting
For thus ended that “noble” deed,
The Battle of Hastings.

Details | Ballad | |


Said she was Sitting Bulls great, great, great
from Bill Cody's rodeo days in Germany ~
I did see a resemblance ~ pix, side by side!
Germany ~ before and after ~ Nazi's!

Now Monica a left-over immigrant to USA
proud in stature, limping, leg twisted
all alone on a RV campground ~ Winter!
Froze up plumbing, living on hand outs!

Husband in the Secret Service ~ military
murdered in his own bed ~ at home
used to fly to Monica's side ~ helicopter
only week-ends ~ secretive!

A green barret instructor to U. S.
Never found out why ~ no evidence
Monica now  ~ on German pension, 63
last Birthday, celibrated with friend & me!

Each Sunday ~ after church
I picked her up ~ her RV ~ loaded w/cats
Her family ~ pix of German folks
all over ~ flowers ~ stacks of goods!

RV ~ crammed with poop ~ couldn't flush
No one wanted Monica on their premise
The Santee Sioux ~ campground, near Casino
Sitting Bull's relative ~ now stuck!

The Sitting Duck predicators
used to be the Indians ~ hunting, self taught
now educated Internet gamblers & the like
What a revolution of choice!

Local hardware ~ wouldn't help no one
open her frozen lines ~ all Summer
Til now ~ backed up with poop & cats!
Finally Monica OD'd,  a diabetic!

RV blew up, she threatened to do often
Hospital, Psychiatry, Santee moved RV
To County garage, Center, Ne.
Want her story ~ it's up for grabs!

Details | Ballad | |

September 11th

Today’s the day
When it all went down.
The pain and sorrow,
And the worlds big frown.
It shouldn’t have happened,
All those innocent people,
Who had to be there,
Now have God as their keeper.
It wasn’t their time to go.
I feel horrible for their families.
I just want to ask you,
 To pray for them please.
The terrorists that did this
Will get what they deserve.
They’ll get Satan’s kiss!
They must be heartless
To even think of this!
There are people to thank
Like the firemen and cops,
And a lot of people gave blood.
Even if it was just drops.
When the towers got hit,
The world thought it was an accident.
No one would’ve guessed
That it was really terrorists.
So don’t forget this day.
Its part of our painful history.
It’ll be in the books.
But why it happened,
Will always be a mystery.

Details | Ballad | |

Small Town Big People

I look in the mirror and see the years gone
I can look beyond the glass out the window
To the yards of my childhood
I can smell the flowers and feel the grass ‘neath my feet. 
I can hear the music blasting on the radio
Mama callin’ me for supper.  

I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again. 
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town. 

The town is small and so are the events
You’re everyone’s business 
You can get a break and can’t get away
You don’t even have a say
You go to and from and people protest
And those same people will still put you to the test

I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again. 
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town. 

I made it to the big town K.C, 
Got myself a husband and a son and a place to live
Settled in and made a life, got a career
I swear I’ll never return to my best friend
Comfortable where I stand, 
Happy where I am 

I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again. 
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town. 

Well times are hard,
And people are ruthless in this cut throat time
Jobs are scarce and bills run high
You never know what you’ll hear at night
The people are small in this big town
Yeah people are small in this big town

I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again. 
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town. 

I guess the town is small
Just good ol’ boys and girls havin’ fun
Small place, small town, small world
People may talk and people may watch
But the biggest thing in that small town
Are the people after all. 

I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again. 
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town. 

-Heather Birdwell 9/22/2009

Details | Ballad | |

Immortal View of Time

Immortal I stand at the dawn of time watching as history unfolds what will become of 
mankind. War and evil is said to be man made, but it was created by the Ancient of Days; 
long before the snake will entice the mortals to slay.

The land is green with promise of that which is unseen, seize the day while it is young is the 
battle cry of the old, carpe diem is dead and cold. Potential is something that is most not fully 
realized, and never surpassed. History is the story of man never learning from the mistakes 
they have made before; there is no new problem under the sun.

Little spiders in my brain running at the speed of light, each carries a little thought some of: 
joy, hope, fear, and delight. Another fly dies food for thought is consumed fueling my mind 
through out the night.

The war within is the one not without belief, that these ants, spiders, and flies live and die for 
something larger than what they are in this life. “Veni Vedi Veci” Caesar cried but what was it 
for that this ant died? Shakespeare wrote, he spun and weaved but with his web of beautiful 
words is he really anything more than a spider to me?

The Brink of the dawn until this point in time: you’re born, you live and die. Is there a point to 
try? The pages of history are all the same, but do your best to live it different in each day. We 
will put it on your grave that you dared to live for the new day, which never came for you 

Immortal I stand at the setting of the sun it seems like yesterday time has just begun; but 
now it’s done and these mortals had a good run. They have managed to find grace in the 
eyes of the Ancient of Days.

Details | Ballad | |


Santee Sioux now all stuck ~ Casino, road
under water !~ Missouri River, talkin' big
it needed water, the River valley dried up
Governor's howling, blaming Corps!

Our nation always at odds
Monica brought her silverware ~ Mom & Dad's
on Sunday ~ Spring to now ~ eating - talking - laughing
3 languages ~ Italian opera director!

Organizer ~ Secretary for Military Academy
Father ~ German military ~ stood up to Hitler,
wouldn't salute ~ up his ~ Father demoted to Norway
he had his pride ~ after War ~ selling on road!

With Monica & Mother ~ sleeping in car 
then their own RV ~ all over Germany, Italy ~ finally free!
The "long fork" is in my belongings ~ part of family set
Monica's long fork found a home, with me!

She wanted back ~ Her trails and trials in America
her longest fork 
in the road ~ you see ~ Indian looking homeword
left to perish all Winter ~ no water, diabetic!

While her cousins played, reaped & sowed
gambling just up 300 yards
Sitting Bull's rodeo days in Germany
& Monica ~ a longest fork ~ of returning home!

Details | Ballad | |

This is the making

This is the making This is the 
 the making of something, 
 the basement of  something,  
 the foundation of something, 
 something grand the re  doing of 
 a young poet named Robert c 
 Bessel Jr., everything new,  
 as i sit back and start to build 
 this huge imp ire im restarting  
 from the basement, 
 the first step is placed with 
 granet finishing  isn't even in my 
 mindset but
 stamping checks now were 
 talking  ligament business, so 
 getting the next is history what 
 history in the  making is.

Details | Ballad | |

This Time

Kiss me softly,
Don't hold back.
No stopping,
No thoughts,
No inhibitions.
Hold me with this,
Feeling that you give me,
That one you used to use to make me...
Stop thinking,
Pause breathing,
Heart beating,
No, throbbing, feeling.
Give me this moment,
Give us this time.
Love me once more,
And please,
Leave me peacefully this time.
No hurt,
No pain,
No explanations.
Just leave

Details | Ballad | |

His Name is I am the Creator

His name is I am, I am on the mountain tops were wild
flowers live, in the blusish green villages were wild myrtle
is born to grow, He is, He is, He is I am, awesome and
divine He is he is were in forrests the wild berrys and wild
fruit grow, he is first and last, he is he is I am in Wild Beauty
or beautiful America, he is he is I am, in the flat lands of
yellowish blue grass in the green green lands of  US of A
he is A In wild America the Wild Beauty, may the icly cold
cold fringe World your flag wave on and on , on his 
Mountain tops for evermore Glory, Glory Hailaloula to
old Glory Hailaloua to our awesome Beautiful America
and his Lady of night of cold icly nights of World her flags
wave on and on for he is here for our Glory hail to the Hail
to our clouds Hail Hail to I am for divine means choice or
to  some chance. 

year 2007 the icly cold World by Diane Henning

Details | Ballad | |


As we close our eyes in the midst of battle
We chant and praise his name
We raise our swords with honour in our hearts
Then charge forward to eternal fame

With Steel in hand and love in our hearts
We charge down the enemy at hand
With mighty roar we slay the beasts
With hope of going to our promised land

The promise land where the Einherjer rest
The fearless the brave the few
They drink the mead of Odin
And eat till they've had their fill

They wait for the final battle
When Heimdal sounds his horn
They will fight the enemy before them
Until the world is no more

Out of the ash's comes promise
Vidarr and Vali stand true
To protect the new world before them
And to forge our existence a new

Details | Ballad | |

Africanus: A Ballad on the Conquests of Scipio Africanus

From ship we see the foreign shore
The lookout’s first to sight
The Carthaginians have no clue
Of coming Roman might

The expedition’s full of men
Our forces proud and grand
We come to conquer Africa
This hot and humid land

We hit the coast, a stranger comes
An old and shriveled man
His voice is raspy like a blade
His skin is dark and tan

He squint’s round at my armored troops
His eyes take in the ships
He queries as to my own past
And other Roman trips

I answer “I am Scipio
The Roman general
I conquered all Iberia
These men are at my call” 

“Arriving from Hispania
We conquered all the tribes
The Carthaginian rebels too
Our feats I shan’t describe”

“More recently we gained allies
That may help us again
They are the best riders around
Numidian horsemen”

“But soon we must prepare to march
To meet the Carthage foe
Through sand, and fields, and mountains too
Whichever wind may blow”

“The expedition’s ready now
Our forces proud and grand
We’ve come to conquer Africa
This hot and humid land”

As we set off, the tension mounts
Our blades are sharp and keen
The banners fly, the troops are set
Our enemies will scream

We crest the hill and see the man
The famous Hannibal
Crying orders, gath’ring troops
We’ll crush this animal.

Zamá’s the place, as morning dawns
The elephants attack
The battle’s fought, the men are caught
In arrows, screams, and rain

The expedition’s weary now
Our eyes are full of sand
We’ve come, we’ve conquered Africa
This ancient, bloody land

Details | Ballad | |


He wasn't like any other ordinary boy
of his own age, but an explorer so passionately
enamored with the sea,
 which once almost drowned him; 
he was criticized and mocked for his idea,  
and yet he tried to persuade them
that the earth wasn't flat, but round...
and they called him crazy!

The redheaded explorer, with a rugged face,
continued to persue that dream,
through rejection and impatience,
he pushed forward to accomplish his mission
with his brothers on his side,
and God to guide him through his struggles;
after years of persistance and persuasion,
he was finally granted his wish!

He had an unbreakable trust in God,
and often asked his men aboard to pray,
and a miraculous circumstance
suddenly hindered his munity;
visible weeds from the coastal waters,
and shrilling fowls flying overhead
 had sure  and immediate signs of land...
and Columbus looked to Heaven in praise!  

The redheaded explorer lived in a time of constant change,
and he changed the destiny of many
by discovering a rich land...
different from the one he had ever imagined;
and he was certain of having found
a westward route to Asia...
but he wasn't aware that his discovery
was another continent later to be named," America." 


Details | Ballad | |


A snow white flower shines in the soft light of a silent meadow. The words that you speak I shall forever echo. A lost love in the dark of the night. They all look your way, but are you blind? Can you not see the beauty of me? I echo your words, I echo your call; can you not hear the silent voice of me at all? I cannot whisper your name, my voice is gone. Silent I shall ever stay, until you speak again. My laughter shall sneak from my lips, until the last word has been spoken, Silent shall I stay again. Silver snowflakes fall in the glory of the dawn. My words are forever caught up hanging silently in my throat, strangling, dangling horridly on my cold lips. A mirrored reflection stares coldly back at you. The water paints a beautiful picture, golden and shining in the crystal spectrum. Will you fall to the hopeless masterpiece inside? Don't give into the lies that haunt your mind, can't you see that you're beautiful again? Beautiful until the end. You see me standing, afraid to think; so you speak. Can I echo your name? Can't you see that I'm afraid to breathe tonight? I'll always recall your words. With you, I shall never be alone. I won't let you go, though your desire is to be gone. In my heart you will forever live on. Farewell you bid unto the world. Farewell I echo to you. I choke in the invisible tears. The reality kills me as I drink in the truth of my deepest fears. Why Narcissus? Why my true love? Why you? Silver snowflakes fall in the glory of the dawn. My words are forever caught up hanging silently in my throat, strangling, dangling horridly on my cold lips. A mirrored reflection stares coldly back at you . The water paints a beautiful picture, golden and shining in the crystal spectrum. Will you fall to the hopeless masterpiece inside? Don't give into the lies that haunt your mind, can't you see that you're beautiful again? Beautiful until the end. I found a flower near the enchanted pool. You placed it there for me, didn't you? Forever the echoes cry out in my mind. Farewell Narcissus, until we meet again. Farewell, I'll see you whenever my time here comes to an end. Farewell, we shall be together again.

Details | Ballad | |


Fires burning, burning bright.
Not for warmth or even light.                        
Burning flesh seared to the bone. 
Was this the sense of martyrdom?

Mary Tudor was the Queen, 
return of Popery her dream.
Henry's child without a doubt,
her fathers deeds to turn about.

Men and women, loosing life,
butchers son and bakers wife.
Bishops, clerics, Lords and sires,
Not one spared the holy fires.

Thomas Cranmer was her aim, 
he caused her mother so much pain.
Anne Boleyn's most errant knight,
causing Mary's own sad plight.

Hooper, Ridley, Cranmer too,
English folk, all good and true.
All subsumed to appease her bile,
sacrificed on the stakes woodpile.

Fourteen score souls finally died,
entering the flames with pride.
Heretics, each and every one.
Assured of joining God's own son. 

As death became well-nigh routine,
The people cried God Save the Queen.
But they, in their hearts, were wary,
amongst themselves called her Bloody Mary.

Details | Ballad | |


Many wonderful voices are heard...
the brighest star is seen;
o joyful bells ring in glory!
In the blue Heavens....see
the angels proclaim God's Word;
this night is cold for those 
sheperds watching their restless sheep
on the Bethlehem's hills.

A shining angel startles them,
as he tells them...the Child
prophesied long ago, 
has born! And that star will lead 
them to the manger, where He
sleeps so calm and mellow;  
doesn't Mary know that Her baby
will soon save Humankind?

O joyful bells ring in glory!
Let every angel praise
the glorious birth of a Prince,
who'll be the Sheperd of many...
whose hearts have longed for real joy!
O sweet child sent from God,
you've come to redeem the sinful world!
O joyful bells ring in glory!

Details | Ballad | |


Many wonderful voices are heard,
the brightest star is seen...
o joyful bells ring in glory;
in the blue Heavens...see
the angels proclaim God's Word!
This night is cold for those
shepherds watching their restless sheep 
on the Bethlehem's hills!

A shining angel startles them,
as he tells them...the Child,
prophesied long ago,
has born! And that star will lead them
to the manger, where He
sleeps so calm and mellow.
Doesn't Mary know that her baby
will soon save Humankind? 

O joyful bells ring in glory!
Let every angel praise
the glorious birth of a Prince,
who'll be the Shepherd of many...
whose hearts have longed for real peace!
O sweet Child sent from God,
you've come to redeem the sinful world! 
O joyful bells ring in glory!

Details | Ballad | |

Confessions of love

         Confessions of  Love

As a nation in mourning,prepares for the war,
A way of life is changing,it can't be like before.
People feel sorrow,for all that has died,
Thousands of people dead,thousands of tears cried.
I listen to stories,as the visions are still fresh in my head.
Confessions of love,were the last words said..........
One brief second,to say goodbye,
Then the next moment,the people just died.
The dying words of many,was to say I love you.
To comfort their loved ones,when they could see it was through.
I think of those phone calls,the final goodbyes,
As a nation vows vengence,for all that has died.
Monuments of progress,lie in ruins on the ground,
As they sift through the wreakage,the bodies are found.
I think what was,and what's up ahead,
I try to understand,just too many dead.
As the leaders plan,their coarse of attack,
A sorrow starts to grow,there's no turning back.
I think of those last words,a phone call back home,
Then the spirits were extinquished,the loved one's left alone.
People light candles,hope for the best?
What happens next,is anyone's guess........
The mighty fortress of civilization,is now rubble on the ground,
More people dead,more bodies found........
The bell starts to toll,as the death toll grows higher,
Yet their dying words,were those of desire.
To try to comfort the upcoming loss,
Confessions of love,by the souls that were lost.
I think of what happened,it's just stuck in my mind,
I wonder of the future and cry for mankind.
When will all of this destruction just end?
I see it become perpetual,with intentions we send.
The acts must be punished,but when will it stop?
Then confessions of love,just rise to the top.................

Details | Ballad | |

So-Cal Life, It's Our Life

Waken' up to a brand new day. Hitting up the crew to see what's new.
Hitting up the homies. Let's see what they want to do.

As time grows by, the group gets bigger. 
Then someone will eventually pull the trigger.

A good idia will lead the way,
and only kooks are left to stay. 

As we roll-out in our only cars,
driving high to reach the stars.

Now in this point in time, 
we reach the caves and ascend our climb.

Hours pass since we left our start.
Now here comes the best part.

Cracking open the case of brew.
"Here, have some. Take one or two."

Suddenly, here comes a stranger walking our way.
He soon spots us, smoking a "J." "Yo, can I get some? I can pay."
Just come smoke with us. Relax and stay.

The sun then lowers in the sky.
We all now are pretty high.

We begin our trek back to the car. 
Having so much fun, we pass the bar.

"Hey, my buddy just got out of the barber."
So we swooped him up and cruised to the harbor.

If I kept writing, I'd loose so much time.
Our lives are too big, for this tinny-ass rhyme.

So now, our story has come to an end. 
This is our life. This story I'll send...

Details | Ballad | |

The birth of a star

This wall stands stronger
Stronger than any man
Yet so difficult
It was to defend

Completely out matched
Thunder came in the dark
But those on the wall
Put up one hell of a fight

The wall never ended
Nor was it straight
Yet inside those men
Had doom as fate
Those who are left
With nothing to lose
Immortally fight

As if death they choose
After days and nights
Sleep came to none
Fate had came
At the rise of the sun

Heroes are made
In this very spot
This place where our ancestors
So valiantly fought
And fight they did
Taking far more than given

Unstoppable sit the man
Who is cause driven
Surrender they could
Lives may have been spared
Where would we be today?
If our men had been scared
Heroes and legends
Were made at this spot

This spot where our ancestors
Oh, so valiantly fought

A tribute to those at the Alamo 

Details | Ballad | |

Let's Talk Shoes

Way back in 490 B.C. in a place called Marathon,                             
the Persians invaded Greece with forks and spoons.                    
The Athenians fought back with courage and bravery,              
warding off the no-good Persians back to the sea.   

A young lad, Phidippides, to announce the great victory   
then sprinted to Athens some fifty kilometers away.                        
There in the city's gate to the people he pronounced                         
“Nike, Nike!”, then promptly fell dead, unannounced.                       

Any joker versed in Greek mythology shall have known                      
that “Nike, Nike!” really means “We won, we won!”                         
But what I can’t quite figure out as I pace the floor                    
is what damn Reebok and Adidas really stand for!                                  

Details | Ballad | |

The Old Bridge

There stands an old bridge just west of town
now the iron is all rusted and worn and brown

People traveling will always get their kicks 
when crossing that  bridge on old route 66

People in Bethany love that  bridge still
and just driving over it is still a great thrill

Visit Bethany and then drive  west of town
pass that old bridge and then turn around

Then look for a while and just get your kicks
and drive across that old bridge on route 66



Details | Ballad | |

Songs of Louis Capart

Songs of Louis
-by Bob Atkinson

simple phrases

although messages
pass me by

deep within the
voice of sentiment

moves a heart toward

driving again down a

ample farms of crops

to Dijon up from

could have been just
any place

City of Light still

six story limit
gives up an aura

possibilities for

room for sidewalk
dining tables

Treff am Rex written
on pages

a story told of
feckless craving

someday bright
screen will show

how heart's desire
grows and grows

Capart's voice
transcends my mind

could be from any
decade past

language used to
paint the sun

drives in toward all
meanings of

past good times or
future fun

satisfaction sipping
a coffee cup

successful endeavor
or busted run

no matter, has all
been fun

no matter now, all
will wait

for this album to
run its pace

settled feelings of
quiet grace

all bodes well, no
wild cast rage

thank you Capart for
morning mood

of my time within
mind's groove

language meaning
escapes my thought

yet this feeling
ever locks

me into awareness of

allowed this morning
from reaction

to words describing
your desire

to entertain with
heart filled fire

Details | Ballad | |

A Son of Erin

Oh Mick McGrath, man of daring do
What will the family make of you?
A forgotten ghost from the past,
Standing trapped in a die well cast.

Oh Mick McGrath, will they hear your name?

Born to peasants in a land of famine
You sailed the terrible seas from Erin.
A southern land of promise found
Only to find the bias still bound.

Oh Mick McGrath, can you feel the shame?

Starving on a selection too small
Relying on native wherewithal.
Mick, you ranged the mountains at will
Seeking the mark, the chase and thrill.

Oh Mick McGrath, were you in the game?

 The traps thundered to Campbells Creek
Seeking the McGraths and others weak.
And so you came before the law
An old hand had up the mantel you bore.

Oh Mick McGrath, were you to blame?

Your fate sealed they squealed long and loud,
This Tipperary man remained unbowed.
You argued your case with alacrity,
Though all was forfeit to her Majesty.

Oh Mick McGrath, no gaol cell could tame!

Suspicious eyes peer down the years
Hands loose clasped your fiery gaze sears.
Ten years on the roads - justice done,
To Berrima a stranger to the sun.

Oh Mick McGrath, Ma still burns the flame!

Ten years off what should’ve been
Because of the things  you had seen.
Droving  in the families’ employ,
A broken and unwanted toy.

Oh Mick McGrath, so you went insane!

With no monument lost in the past
From new pages your place held fast.
A grainy picture in shadowy relief,
A man who kept his family’s belief.

Oh Mick McGrath, now they know your name!

Details | Ballad | |

Feet, feet that walked away with the toes

Heavy the hoods of the eyes
  that laboured the scan of horizons
Heavy the course of the thoughts
  that sat unstirred on the sill of the stare

Heavy this ancient bottomed nose
  sitting in judgment over this meat
Endlessly shunting the frenzied workers
  now sniff-drunk and steam-bellowed in the street

This the scull careered through rutted scars
  the primeval hair bushed in pathways
Where long tribes with long lances
  prod the undergrowth for signs of lost bones

These the ears that heard the wake of worlds
  wandering in the ever irretraceable tread
Ears though that admit the silent secrets
  ever still and hospitable to the panicky refrain

This the assembled machinery, forging fire
  have dropped the tongs
Down the corridors of investigation
  hurtling in darkening diseases

These the loins, companion of time
  stalked through fire, filth, and foam
Baked in the hot ovens of empires
  wearied some morning in blurry depredation

Wobble-eyed, knee-tied, dragged with pacing company
  through yesterdays that are forever lost indemnity
Heavy the larvae lipped throb, kiss and consider
  heavy the molten strata ooze, consider and kiss

These the organs that prodded nations
  and shrivelled up to curse them all in pain
Pursed its potency, convulsed the course of the vein
  this the dismembered member of the tribe

Heavy, alas, these feet that thump
  jog and reel in the dancing rhythm of millenniums
Trod on the will-less face of faiths
  twitched their toes and walked their way

 ©:  T. Wignesan, 1957 (from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)

Details | Ballad | |

Birth of a Nation, Revisited

Birth of a Nation, Revisited.

Yo, In this birthing of new imagination,
Competitive flows stifle my creativity,
But in the inertia of lifting my sisters,
I am catapulted to new day and night dreams of joy,
My budget is tight cause’ I care more about poverty than riches,
And my freestyle flow is kinda weak, cause I’m a geek from the suburbs,
But God loves me still the same,
Tupac, Breed, Clapton, Mayard, prophets spanning generations,
Barak, a new kind of king that trades his crown for true democracy,
Democrats prayin’, Yo that’s a new day dawning,
Cause now its all over,
Cause when progressives start seekin’ the Divine,
That’s the whole code cracked,
Yo this path I walk is tired,
Yo this path I walk is tumultuous,
But when I see Barak steppin’ out of shells of racist idolatry and uniting a nation,
Then I know I chose correctly.
Yo this path I walk is tired,
Yo this path I walk is tumultuous,
But when I see apostles speekin’ of justice, mercy, and faith instead of straining 
over gnats of imposed sexuality, and swallowing camels of foreign fears,
Then tears flow, and I know its all worth it baby!!
Just me and Jesus, Just you and Jesus, Praisin’, Worshippin’, and putting up 
free swim centers in the projects,
What a Nation!
Not quite yet, but in the makin’
I can’t quite taste it, but I can see it,
And seeing is the beginning.
Yo can it be, I ask you?
Can it be, that we be the first Rome to voluntary step off its thrown of hubris,
To step off its thrown of unjust domination,
Economic silos destroying other folks sense of belonging,
And say to the World, “Yo God loves us, However you conceive of her, she loves 
us, and that’s enough, so let’s party!!”

Details | Ballad | |

' Legendary ... ' ( Part 1 (of) 4 )

        ‘ Legendary … ’    ( Part  1  (of)  4 ) 

Step with me into History
Step with me, to ‘Days of Yore’ Pageantry
Let Time and Mind, March Back Momentarily
Let Mist and Musings … Merge in Front of Thee …

… On Mare, or Mighty-Destrier … Ride Along with Me
In Rich-Carriage, or Hay Wagon … Come Along with Me
Thru The Forests … See The Hunters, Plying Falconry
Thru The Elms, See Caravan … of A Girl-Gypsy

Over Sunny Knoll, and Shady Dale … Onward We Journey
By, Merchant-Trade, Lo’!... We Made – A Medieval City !
… Now, Hear Drummers, Beat Cadence … Dramatically
Hark, The Trumpets, Blare Forth, Thunderously

… Hear A Herald Invite: “  Hear Ye’ - All Heraldry “
Come to The Ball; Lyre and Mandolin Pluck Persuasively
 a Lone Flute, Floats a Tune … so Melodiously
Perchance … Join The Dance and Step Accordingly

 Twirl and Whirl, Do A Bassa’ … then Bow and Curtsy
Forsooth, from the word ‘Court’, comes such ‘Courtesy’
And Tis’ Adamant, for Manners, Donned in Such Finery
Swirling in Silk Gowns, Vests and Veils with Embroidery

… Gemmed-Cloaks, Headdress and Hose, Bedecked in Luxury
bearing Crested-Medallions and Daggers: There is no Subtlety
amid Scented Candles, Flowered Columns and Alcove Settees
and Banquets, where Sweetmeats and Puddings were made Ready

… also Victuals of Venison, Fruits, Cheese, Wine and Meade Aplenty
for The Wayfarer and Time-Traveler, who Ventures Back With Me …
And Now … may Troubadour … Spin A Tale, So Precisely
Aye … May Bard, Weave Thee Well, into This Tapestry …


           Sweet Wine On My Lips … Drip In Ecstasy
      Sweet Touch On My Hips … Smooth as Warm Honey
            Sweet Love of My Soul … Last An Eternity
             Sweetheart, Be Thou Bold … In Bravery …
… and if Sweet Talk, Be A Token … and Language Be Spoken …
               … Be Legendary … Be Thou Legendary 

                          ( Part  1 (of) 4  )

Details | Ballad | |


Old Brass City
with massive gothic chuches,
abandoned rail-roads
and run-down factories...
we still glimpse into that bygone glory
which made your name so famous!

O Waterbury, no Christmas 
can be compared to yours,
when Main Street glitters under the fluffy snow
and everyone hummers a carol!
O Waterbury, those starry nights
are too surreal and make lovers fantasize!

Old Brass City,in ninenteen-forty-two
lads and gals were sent to war to fight the Cruel,
and mothers cried as their sons and daughters
left this once-happy-town of friendly and kind folks!
And despite all the sorrow and pain yet to be,
they proudly marched off to defeat the enemy!

O Waterbury, your monuments inspire hope,
and remind all of your past glory and leadership;
and the brave soldiers who sacrificed all...
became those heroes we've engraved into the soul!
Some returned, many died to seal their fate,
and their courage and valour put an end to all hate!

Details | Ballad | |

The Eagle's Gift

A being of ill-decree,
there, thoughts of 
loves, lost to betrayal.

Taking remembrance, a 
dove nestles amongst 
some branches.

The love and glory
of thine own, embarked
upon the mystery

As vigor pursuits
of fulfillment ensue,
let redemption entrail.

The mischievous bard,
did let on, a 
curious, chance of labor.

For the sorrows
of valor's past
so subtley mistaken.

A faint glimmer in
his eyes, suddenly
gave way to a 
slight interest,
o'er God, 

Let the perils
of failures of 
our past.  
Blessed. . .
not find, traitor.

Twilight settled
upon the lonely
desert setting, of 
rugged palms 
and mystic wallow.

With a whimsical
embrace to surety
and the galliance 
of the setting sun's 

A plan of divine
right.  An expression
of knowledge shared,
our El Dorado.

As the bard's 
spirit did chime
of righteous
victory.  Yes, victory
was sure to follow.

For vises of sweet
mysterious tidings,
due to his own accord.

The mistress gypsy,
there spied swaying,
as the Eagles rose 
and soared.

Details | Ballad | |

Poetic Justice

Visualize my children and you shall look
Upon the voyage of Captain James R. Cook;
It was the eighteenth of January in Seventeen Seventy-Eight;
Hardly a Hawaiian can forget the Date;
What befell upon the Islands was a terrible Fate.

During the Makahiki festival, Cook was thought to be Lono;
He would never live to see how he upset the (Balance) Pono;
The false god blew smoke from his mouth and had skin so pale,
Arriving on a floating island with a giant sail,
So Cook told them he was a God, never thinking this deceit might fail.

At first it went good they celebrated together,
But upon leaving the island, Cook hit nasty weather;
One ship had some problems and broke its foremast;
If they didn't turn around, the ship wasn't going to last,
So they headed back to the island faster than fast.

The Hawaiians had been generous and were generous again,
And even as the author holds this pen,
He knows "boys will be boys" and "men will be men,"
And the Hawaiian resentment, was starting to burn
For "this god who ate so much, but gave so little in return.”

When loose tools were stolen, men got even more irate;
Both sides Hawaiian and Haole began to fill with hate;
So Cook’s men stole a canoe and there was a small fight;
Nobody died, but the European sailors remained on shore for the night;
When they awoke, another of their large boats was missing from sight.

Cook was angry now and wanted his large boat back;
He marched on shore with marines, in an attempt to attack;
He grabbed him a hostage Chief Kalani'opu'u; 
In the wake, a riot began to ensue;
The Hawaiians got their clubs, while Cook waved in his crew.

Guns were fired, Hawaiians charged, and the Marines ran back to their boat,
And alone stood Captain Cook in his British red coat;
Cook was hit with a club, stabbed numerous times and killed;
Still more than two hundred years later the void can never be filled,
Like a cavity that's so deep it cannot be drilled.

What could the Hawaiians do?
It seemed as if the prophecies were coming true;
Death and demise would come from across the sea,
Though it never said what or who it might be;
Were these white foreigners, devils or the missing key?

One hundred years later, the Native Hawaiian Population was decimated;
Disease and materialism only helped to destroy all the Hawaiians created;
The US took their harbor and went on vacation on their white sands;
Now is time for change, the choice is in your hands;
Discover the truth, help return stolen lands.

Details | Ballad | |


Don't let the past hinder you
when sailing life's wide, open, blue
Make sure that you have paid your debt
so you can rise above regret
Blind not your eyes with useless tears
for past mistakes of yester years
The past shall bury of its own
then down that path you shall not go
Keep moving on, for all things fair
await the souls that do and dare

Details | Ballad | |

Last Stand

Night turns to day
Day turns to night
Past the past
But that’s all right
It has come once at last
Our final calling
Our final stand
We’ve came so far
With the stroke of a hand
With the thought of the mind
Finally shown
 Is the unappreciated sign
Of which one can leave
All the past behind
All that is true
All that is pure
Is now gone
Experts are now sure
The last hour is upon
Now what is to be done?
 Where shall we go?
Time surely will show
Yet what time is available?
What peace is left?
What is next?
Life is a never-ending test
Of our gift of will power
And choice making
Yet the wrong some
Are always taking
Decisions of war
Decisions of peace
Mean nothing
Till the killings cease
Only then shall our race
Find true peace

Details | Ballad | |

' Lengendary ... ' ( Part 2 (of) 4 )

‘ Legendary … ' ( Part  2 (of) 4 ) 

And Now … may Troubadour … Spin A Tale, So Precisely
Aye … May Bard, Weave Thee Well, into This Tapestry …

… of Starry Skies, Blazing Fires and Dark Mysteries …
Inside Halls of Castle Walls Built Solidly
Where Banners and Pennants Unfurled Breezily
Come to this Threshold of ‘Once Upon A Time’ and See …

… Here Be:  Glittering Crowns and a Throne of Royalty
Look Upon King and Queen, Sitting In Majesty
… but tis’ not Their Tale, to be Spoken of Verily …
Tis’ of a Maid and Her Knight of Renown-Chivalry …

… of A Silver-Armored Knight, and Cobbler’s Daughter, so Comely

… Twas’ a Masque-Ball, where none knew … Any Other’s Identity
Whence the Knight, took the Cobbler’s Daughter… Adorned as Nobility
Yea … none knew the wiser, behind the Costumes and the Frivolity
… None, except an Earl … who loathed the Knight, Vehemently 

The Earl, wast’ the Knight’s Avowed Foe, in Unmitigated Rivalry
In Jousts, the Earl, could nay Win; for the Knight was best in Weaponry
To the Earl, this wast’ an Affront, to His High-Born Dignity
For the Knight, of Prowess and Fame, was still, Low-Born in Family

… So Upon This Knight, laid the Plight, of Improving His Kin’s Prosperity
To Another, He Had Been Pledged to Wed… for a Wealth-Match Fortuitously
Tho’ the Lady wast’ Fair, The Knight had nay care, saw it as Honor-Bound-Duty
Alas, whence He met, the Cobbler’s Daughter, Beth, Both Hearts bonded Instantly

Now, Both Knew for a Surety, of the Futility, yet still they Loved Hopelessly
Even tried to Forget, whence they met, but twas’ much too much, Melancholy
Many a Fortnight, they did fight … Pangs of Conscience and Substance-Compulsory
But, as it were, each Heartbeat of Theirs, Threatened to Break Terribly

For The Cobbler, had received an Offer for Beth, from One, More Grandly 
So, Neither Family wast’ Abjuring nor Conferring Blessing on Their Unity
But A Love So True and Undying Too … wast’ Worth Any Adversity
… and On Night of The Masque, among Genteel-Guest, They were in Pact, To Marry …


       Sweet Wine On My Lips … Drip In Ecstasy
Sweet Touch On My Hips … Smooth as Warm Honey
        Sweet Love of My Soul … Last An Eternity
        Sweetheart, Be Thou Bold … In Bravery …
 … and if Sweet Talk, Be A Token … and Language Be Spoken …
        … Be Legendary … Be Thou Legendary 

                            Part  2  (of)  4

Details | Ballad | |


They slowly walk to Ground Zero
to grieve for someone they lost or know,
I came to this site for all the fallen;
great sadness mixed with supreme joy,
because they've reached the ultimate glory...
in that place where no one is alone!

My poem is for those I didn't know,
for someone who needed help, but wasn't there;
I would have given up the very breath of this life
to have saved,at least, one soul...
not to make another bell toll!
This loud and deep voice
would have called out to them with infinite grace,
to pull their trapped bodies out of the flames;
and they would have answered me with a whisper...
to lead them, from the mortal darkness, into the living light!

Seasons change colors,
and every year one seems
different from the other;
I stay the same forever...
remembering that nobody 
is safe anyplace, or anywhere!
Be alert and vigilant as they couldn't be...
our enemies are full of treachery,
and trepidation is a sign of sure weakness;
they intimitate us with another menace!  

My poem is for those I didn't know,
and being that stranger I feel even more;
I would have offered my kind arms,
and let their wish,to stay alive,
fall in this caring heart flowing with kindness:
I would have taken their place and gladly died!

Details | Ballad | |

The Spirit of the Great Ones

I may not have any blood in me
Of the Seneca, Creek, Apache, Navajo,
Or even of the Seminole, Nez Perce, or Cherokee
But I do know what I at least have

It is disgust and anger
For this country called the Land of the Free
And the Home of the Brave
This nation was and is still too blind to see

What we have done to these people
Why did we have to act like such fools?
Why did we have to go ahead?
And put them in all these nightmarish prep schools

All those many years ago
But what would all the Great Ones say?
I wonder what Red Cloud, Geronimo,
Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, or Osceola

Would think or say about over how today
They have put every Native American on to reservations
That has little water in their supply or even very much land
I think it is time for all the Native American Nations

To once again rise up and take a stand
So they will not have to be pushed around
By any important, big-time white man
Who orders them to pack up and leave their home

Details | Ballad | |

What's This All About?

Buildings crumble down much like castles made of sand.
The circle is unbroken, the brotherhood of man.
Flames burst out, they seem suspended in the sky.
They can’t stop the terror, no matter what they try.
Then comes a calm, like after a storm.
The people feel the sorrow, as they begin to mourn.
Although I wish that things, could be like before,
As the flames are extinguished, their beings are no more.
Step to the ledge, poised to make that jump.
Jolted from the path, it’s a pretty big bump.
A cloud of destruction shrouds the way back to the path.
I try to add up the numbers but can't do the math.
Smoke so thick, you can cut it with a knife.
It becomes much like a plague, as it takes another life.
The sun returns, but things don't look the same.
Sometimes I wonder, are we getting better at this game?
Darkness returns, with silence by it's side.
You're tossed and turned about, it’s a pretty rough ride.
You try to find your way but it gets lost in your head.
It's seeming to get harder, to just get out of bed.
So you stop and look around but you can see that you are lost.
The autumn leaves start falling, as they float down towards the frost.
Coldness starts to grow, you need only to feel warm.
Try to find shelter, to get out of the storm.
I can see the winter up ahead, trying to get out.
Then I'm left here thinking, what this all about? 

Details | Ballad | |

The Ballad of Mary Morgan

Two hundred and three long years have flown
  Since you swung in Gallows Lane.
Now only two rough and mossy stone
  Memorials remain.

And one recounts the sin and shame,
  The ignominious death,
The bastard child, the guilt, the blame,
  Judge Hardinge's righteousness.

But the other recalls your suffering;
  Its gentle words intone:
'The one among you without sin -
  Let him first cast a stone.

But why did you take the knife, Mary,
  Out of the kitchen drawer?
Your baby just wanted a life, Mary,
  And you asked for little more.

Did you take the knife to cut the cord?
  Did you panic when first she cried?
That wailing everyone ignored?
  The blood you tried to hide?

When they dragged you out of the tiny cell,
  After a winter in Presteigne gaol,
You shivered and stumbled and nearly fell,
  Your fear too great and your heart too frail.

But no-one watched you cross the street
  To the place allotted for retribution;
Your hair flowed over the winding sheet
  They'd dressed you in for your execution.

And no-one watched as you hung and swung,
  For the law was not well served that day.
Was Mary Morgan fair and young,
  Silenced by one who'd led her astray?

They thought so when they cut you down,
  And claimed your body as their own;
Your legend lives on in Presteigne Town,
  Judge Hardinge's grave long overgrown.

Details | Ballad | |

2007CG Creator and Angels fight for Freedom

By the mountain tops men like gaints in USA air land and seas like
a lighting strikes his mind fight on sharp all books of lanuages for
them to find the code the plans their love that keeps them fighting
on is the woemen and baby what is your quest what can we give 
to you and your men but honor glory as the grapes of rapture stands
we honor the and troops for evermore like the evergreen our love
is good even in the snow ice cold LOVE for your troops are like
the roses that have grown on the evergreen in mist of icly cold
America we love you all.  Our men in America our like gaints that
stand by the eagle and songbird that are on Mountain tops
our bird red with white wings and blue eyes our songbird and
of course eagle that fly for evermore our fountain of youth the

Details | Ballad | |

Aquarain Dream III- Children of Concordia

Used to be Controlled by a Tyrant of lies Then one day The swift unseen knights Came and stormed all who Deteste the Aquarian Wish Be Free and live long we are the Children of Concordia Nothing shall be in our way Comely as what a Siren signs Bravery of what a Lion brings The Grey Haven lies beyond the mist The Children of Concordia They have no word for trist Will you let me join your world? Will you open up the doors? A people of concord and more than they seem They live in the shadows of an Aquarian Dream A place of Liberty and Harmony Ruled by magic and Lore Deep in the Golden forest of Clarity Filled with enchanting tales Of Immortality and evil’s causalities You can find Eden’s people she said what humans were meant to be Comely as what a Siren signs Bravery of what a Lion brings The Grey Haven lies beyond the mist The Children of Concordia They have no word for TristWill you let me join your world? Will you open up the doors? the safety of your real that could never fall Comely as what a Siren signs Bravery of what a Lion brings The Grey Haven lies beyond the mist The Children of Concordia They have no word for trist Will you let me join your world? Will you open up the doors?

Details | Ballad | |


Upon your eyes did I look, upon the tree of destiny, where Love Crucified hung so desperately. Awaiting your judgement. Friends watched. Soldiers mocked. Townsfolk jeered. I saw you through my eyes, drowning in solitary tears. Your arms spread out so openly, your spirit fading. The day became the night in the blink of an eye. A temple's veil torn in half. At your Father's one command you let out a cry, slowly, silently, slipping from your life. I gazed upon your lifeless body. So lost am I, frozen at the pinacle of the cross. Shepherd me home where I am again safe with you. Save me, Bread of My Soul. Body of My Life. Savior, Lord Jesus Christ. Echoing your one ascending name, again shall you rise. Dancing away with all of my sins, God of the Skies. Giving me the chance to live again, Redemption, sweet Redemption.

Details | Ballad | |


In the bible there is a story,about a man ,
who brought his people out of slavery
He led them to a promise land,
So all his people could be free.

In the bible there is a story.
 about a man and his family.
Who built an ark in the desert,
and GOD change the desert into a raging sea.

In the bible there is a story
about a man as strong as he could be.
Until he met this girl,DELILAH.
Who brought him tragedy.

In the bible there is a story,
about a man from GALILEE.
Who shed is blood on the cross,
for all of our souls,such as you and me.

Details | Ballad | |

The Dream Team of The Cariboo

Way back in the nineteen thirties, 
they where mighty hard to beat.
The Hockey team from Alkali Lake,
Who would not accept defeat.   

You know there wasn't very many of them ,
so they could not often change their line,
The other teams had about twenty guys,
Alkali just nine. 

Mathew Dick , he was the goalie, 
 Clemine and Johnson  played defense,
Sylista  was their center,
and man he was intense.

Pat Chelsea and Alfred Sandy ,
Where Sylista's two main wingers
Joe Dan, Gaby Jack and  Sqinahan 
  where back up  the second Stringers.

They went by team and wagon,
gone at least three days for every game.
No matter who they played that year,
it ended up the same. 

In ragged wore out uniforms,
and old skates with buckskin laced.
They where the Champions of the Cariboo
and whipped every team they faced!

They even went down the coast,
and played against  the best.
and lost that series by just one goal,
against the All Stars of the West!

Just nine young Indian Cowboys,
Who came from Alkali,
But boy, they could play hockey, 
Put on them skates and Fly. 

The New York Rangers, tried to hire Sylista,
But their deal he wouldn't take,
 He said "Might be,  I already got a job,
I cowboy for Alkali Lake."

Details | Ballad | |

Dire Need

The Saints marched in
And in the din
So many dollars spent.
The stadium roof
Can stand a hurricane--
A category five.
What about the residents?
What will keep them alive?
Football is a pastime, yes,
An important one, it's clear.
The folks of ward nine might say,
"Where was our support this year?"
People live in trailers, provided
By the government, it's true.
Where did my Red Cross check go,
Mr. President, Mayor Nagin, I ask of you?
You on top say "you feel their pain."
I doubt it and this is why--
Unless you've lived on peanut butter
And macaroni and cheese--
Until the Saints march in and help--
"The lowest of the low,"
Don't show me a giant football field
When folks have nowhere to go.

Details | Ballad | |

4th of July flare

This morning I awoke with great pride and honor for today we celebrate our 
independents made possible by the men and women who died over there,
we take our long weekends  to camp,BBQ, hang out with friends and family as 
we drink get drunk and enjoy the fire works flare,
today I will awake with a prayer to out troops a thank you to all the mothers, 
fathers, husbands, wife's, and children who lost love ones over there,
I won't take for granted my freedom, my rights, or shame the land others died to 
protect with heroic flare,
I will tell my kids what all the solders in all the wars did for them for this country 
from sea to shinny sea how they did their best over there,
we take for granted our history we look forward to time off rather then time to 
remember this isn't U.S.A.'s flare,
other countries honor this day while we desecrate it with intoxication do we not 
care for our brothers and sisters over there,
Please I erg you to take a moment of silence and a moment of prayer remember 
each color of our flag and show your red white and blue flare,
in your hearts remember all solders who gave you freedom gave their blood, 
sweat, and tears and above all their life over there,
raise your head with pride, give thanks where it is seldom heard look up to the 
heavens and with American pride salute  our brother and sisters  with 4th of July 

Details | Ballad | |


As the years and times will change this bustling city,
once almost invisible from Heaven itself,
we'll remember it as it took on the face of death:
giving each other comfort and asking why
would anyone hate so much this nation...
to demolish what took years to build with devotion!

Our presence will greatly attest,
and send a message so strong and sound
that their ears will not miss;
angels still fly over that sacred place,
and watch it with their smiling faces...
to please God with all their will,
because they know too well 
that our sorrows can't be measured!

As the seasons and the days slip away,
only that memory remains timeless:
faint voiced of family and friends
wailing in the thick smoke and burning flames,
and as helpless as they are, where they pray,
they think of us as their Guardian Angels!

Our presence will greatly attest,
but nobody can ever sway us from our achievement:
a tragedy such as this, will not be repeated...
we lost too much to be intimidated!

Details | Ballad | |

Haman and Hitler

Years and months and days… time
Separate the two
But the oddity of their similar plot
Of what they wanted to do...

“Kill them all, we do not care
Be it right or be it wrong
The draught of blood brought to my lips
Will end in joyous song.

Do not allow my eyes to be cast upon
Such a shameful sight…
Take them all, by neck and wrist
Murder the children in the night

The children and the ones who love them
And everything they touch
Burn it, smash it, it’s unclean;
I do so know this much.

Why then, did God, allow for this
Monstrosity to be born?
Why is there this pathetic race
Here for us to scorn?

And why do we, two faces of evil
Need to hate them so
To feed the fire of lust in our soul
There’s no other passion
That can drive me to go.

So kill them one, kill them all!
And don’t one eye look away!
 The splatter of blood, the cry of old
Has already begun to decay.

What will happen to us, I wonder
When our torment is never satisfied
Will we then also, enjoy a doomed fate
When all the Jews have died?”

Details | Ballad | |

' Warriors ... The Battle Cry Song ... '

There Are Sounds of Ancient Thunders
There Are Sounds of Ancient Drummers
        Calling … Brave Warriors
         Gladiators and Warriors

And They’re Marching To The Cadence of Their Hearts’ Pounding
Marching, To The Cadence of The World’s Rage Resounding
They’re Going By The Beat of Their Heart’s Pumping
By The Steady Flow of Blood and Bloodlust, Tells Me Somethin’

               … Warriors …
         Courageous Warriors …


But, We’ve Seen These Men, Playing With Their Children
We’ve Seen These Sons and Their Laughter, I’m Hearing
We’ve Seen These Men, Loving Their Babies
And Tenderly Holding and Kissing Their Ladies

               … Warriors …
         Courageous Warriors …

2nd Chorus:

Oh Lord, Please Stop These Warriors’ Battle Cry
And The Battle Cry, Coming From Their Mothers and Wives
The Battle Cry, Coming From Their Little Ones’ Eyes
The Battle Cry, Coming From Warriors … When They Die

               … Warriors …
         Courageous Warriors …

Sticks and Stones, Swords, Arrows and Bombs
Lances, Knives, Hand to Hand Combat, Napalm
God Almighty, Oh, Thy Kingdom Come
Please Rescue Us, From The Kingdom of The Gun …

And Prophecy Is Marching – Listen, All Who Arms Bear
Warriors, Must Beat War Weapons Into Plowshares            ( Isa. 2: 4 )
And When War, Is No More, Then We Will Hear
All Warriors’ Battle Cry, Will Be An Amen Cheer !

              … Gentle Warriors …
            Peace-Loving, Warriors …

2nd Chorus:

Oh Lord, Please Stop These Warriors’ Battle Cry
And The Battle Cry, Coming From Their Mothers and Wives
The Battle Cry, Coming From Their Little Ones’ Eyes
The Battle Cry, Coming From A Warrior’s … Last ‘ Why ? ’

                … Warriors …
           Courageous Warriors …

How Can Flesh and Blood, Mortal-Men, Be So Fearless, I Wonder
Are They Strengthened By Duty, Love and Honor
Facing Danger, Death and Being Torn Asunder
Sacrificing All, As A Fallen Soldier …

                 … Warrior …
           Courageous Warrior …

Details | Ballad | |

Aquarian Dream II- Leaving Kali Yuga

A glimpse in your gilded eyes Tells me all inside your lieing mind How can you Stand without a spine How can you speak without a will Failed to announce the pain Will they realize the illusion Is it all to late? The lies that are so common Have put up a delusion Infront Of the people's mind So deep away from the dark Will we come when father is coming For us, is it all to late? Soft little messenger I dare you to spread the word About our dying world All come far and near Listen to what we have been waiting to hear The walls have broken down The gates have been breached The Keep stormed in Praise and sing They have killed our king Our conformity is on it's last day All Black Skies have been tainted with grey Our flags are now just tinder The palace has all been burned to cinders Our Empire has fell Praise and sing They have killed our king I see the light of a dawning Age Let a new era begin An Aquarian dream a day where we are all free Inside our minds; our hidden refuge But there's no need to hide perfection Concordia shall be our queen Justice, independence, liberty are our only virtues free to be whoever our heart let's us be Go to the tower, strike the bell Soft little messenger And tell of Victory All come far and near Listen to what we have been waiting to hear The walls have broken down The gates have been breached The Keep stormed in Praise and sing They have killed our king Our conformity is on it's last day All Black Skies have been tainted with grey Our flags are now just tinder The palace has all been burned to cinders Our Empire has fell Praise and sing They have killed our king All come far and near Listen to what we have been waiting to hear The walls have broken down The gates have been breached The Keep stormed in Praise and sing They have killed our king Our conformity is on it's last day All Black Skies have been tainetd with grey Our flags are now just tinder The palace has all been burned to cinders Our Empire has fell Praise and sing They have killed our king

Details | Ballad | |


Beauty of the Maliced-Night Come to me, Wake me up Forlorn I've been for Centuries My heart beckons for the day of the thought of You Glimpsing in my dreams I see you fighting through The Iron-Gate that held me too You ordered my death in such a Beauty-Blinding way How can I refuse? The dust and sand of the desert's wane Has left myself to Blame The lust and land of the Desert's Wane Suffocated me with the forlorn days I've met you my lover I've met you my execution I've met you my Loving Shame I've met you my Salome Salome, Selfish Lover Salome, Gates of Jerusalem hold you In Salome, my Beauty The Dust and Sand of the desert's wane The Lust and Loving Shame Has left Myself to Blame I've Met You My Salome

Details | Ballad | |


Gradma singing her passionate Neapolitan songs 
from a balcony adorned with scarlet roses...her deep voice
not a soprano's, but delightful and expressed in humaneness;
her long golden hair brushed by the summer's aromatic breeze, 
to spark a new passion in her lively blue eyes!
And has she ever told anyone about 
carrying along that secret?

When grandpa left Italy, in clandestine  disguise,
for a long, hopeful jeouney to America in the late thirties,
grandma sacrificed and suffered much;  and when the Nazis
invaded the peaceful town of Baiano,
grandma made trips to the  small mill in Arciano,
to grind grain and make her delicious bread:
encountering many dangers and fears ahead...
making her the heroine History won't recognize! 
Have the historians overlooked her incredible courage,
and let her carry along that secret?

Women  and young ladies, including grandma, adored
the handsome and fearless man Mussolini,
who resuscitated the old concept of the Roman Empire with evil ways...
manipulating the puppet' hands of the loyal Fascisti;
woe to me, if I had lived and rebelled in those dreadful days:
I would have been imprisoned and possibly been killed!
Out of grief and anger, I speak against 
every injustice and not carry along that secret! 

My uncle, Stefano, was taken to England  by the British
as a prisoner of war...a coerced man so torn;
and Emma a kind-hearted English woman ,
and a lovely nurse with an impeccable humanity,
visited him often and brought him a home-cooked dish;
someting wonderful could have bloomed between them...
but all records and details have been lost instead,
and mine rely entirely on faded pictured filled with memory!
What unthinkable steps, the dictators of this earth take, to gain
their day in an unpromising sun:  suddenly power and pride...gone;   
Hitler's land devastated by the armies of justice...
with no shot-down bodies falling into self-dug ditches! 
Powerful people could have prevented this inhumane slaughter with haste,
but  silently watched them die... carrying along that secret!

Details | Ballad | |

' By All That Is Holy ... ' (Medieval # 1)

By All That Is Holy… The Knight Rode Away
Yonder o’er the Borders and Hills
Away to a Kingdom… to be His One Day…
Bound by Pledge and Royal Seal…

… for Valor and Honor and a Deed Well-Done
He wast’ given the Titles Thereof…
Glory and Power of A Champion
Of The High-King, He Loyally Loves…

By All That Is Holy… We Speak of His Fame
By All That Is Holy… Comes Thru His Name
That Strong, Gentle Knight of Light and Love
By All That Is Holy… Be Blessed Above

By All ‘Tis Holy  -  Pure, Virtuous
He Vanquished all His King’s Foes
In Obedience and Boldness… So Beauteous
That Forevermore… Everyone Knows!...

By All That is Holy… He is Now, Lord of Lords
GOD’s Will, ‘tis His Shield… Justice ‘tis His Sword
Prince of Peace, Paid a Ransom… we could nay Afford
… an Eternal Crown… ‘Tis His Priceless Reward

By All That Is Holy… The Hero Rose Away
By All That Is Holy… He Will Return One Day
We wilt’ Herald and Cheer, as Sir Mercy passes through
By All That Is Holy… He can Save You Too!

Details | Ballad | |


Brittannia ruled the waves,they said
My old school atlas,dotted red;
Cricket its multi-national game
Pageantry & fair-play its claim to fame;
Governed by the privileged few
English,said & written its glue.

Now six decades further on
Its colonial power foever gone;
A damp offshore Atlantic island
Sinking slowly,in PC quick-sand;
Multi-cultures of its past,now abound
Each language of its Empire,here is found.

Details | Ballad | |

Long Before--

Long Before--

It was long before the garden hoe,
That the ancients walked the earth,
Where together in groups they sauntered the land
Just to find a morsel to eat.
And these people who lived through wandering days.
Learned to hunt and gather their food.
Starting each day just after dawn,
Roaming freely on God’s land.
But the life that they lived, they lived to survive.
Hunting for food, roaming free.
Endlessly gathering berries and fruit.
Thankful were they for life.

© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
February 18, 2010

Poetic form: Ballad  (In Progress)

Details | Ballad | |


Four in one, nine baptized,
I hear you say legalized fraudulence.
Promises air-conditioned highways and streets;
Salaries and wages without workings,
An easy life made sweet and comfortable.

Now, all can join the bandwagon of rigging,
Of Moonslide and Marsslide victories,
With babies and peoples ritually sacrificed.
Received with glee by their lord,
The god of Politricks.

Details | Ballad | |

The Lusitania (Part One)

More than twelve hundred souls
Meet their watery grave.
German U-boat patrols
Spark a fatal shockwave.

This echo of the past
Resounds throughout history.
Rousing war unsurpassed,
Deadly shroud of mystery.

The empire aids Cunard,
Loaning millions in pounds.
Lord Inverclyde toils hard
On deceptions unsound.

They hide admiralty
Within their merchant fleet,
And in reality
War barons plot deceit.

Famed cruiser so agile
Brings home the Blue Riband.
Propellers prove fragile,
New designs would respond.

While retooling the craft,
Gun mountings are installed.
Hidden away most daft
Down where the ropes are hauled.

However they decide
To switch their new design.
Large cargo holds shall hide
Munitions in her spine.

War with Germany starts
With land mines and blockades.
America builds parts
While Britain launches raids.

The Isles become war zones
With no sure passage back.
Submarines would throw stones
To sink the Union Jack.
So Daniel Dow protests
This British smuggling ring.
The prior chief suggests
Attacks these loads will bring.

A German message warns:
"Huge risk at British sea!
If allied flags adorn,
They'll be hacked to debris!"

Captain Turner is picked
To lead the merchant ship.
"Speed shall avoid conflict
On this momentous trip."

Voyage two hundred-one
Departs Pier 54
Under a watchful sun,
Fresh ammo in her store.

Steaming toward Fastnet Rock,
Bowler Bill seeks advice.
Three ships are sunk in shock,
Warnings are confirmed twice.

Posting double look-outs,
They ready the lifeboats.
Bill secures a black out
While taking careful notes.

Thirty miles from Cape Clear,
The vessel enters fog.
Weather thwarts so severe
The captain slows their slog.

The periscope spots them
As orders are passed down.
One button shall condemn,
Destruction all around.

The Old Head of Kinsale
Watches the missile glide.
The bomb shreds to assail
Those weapons stowed inside.

Details | Ballad | |

Texas Jack

Ol' Texas Jack he wandered,
He wandered far and wide,
With cactus spikes a blanket,
Locoweed his temporary bride.
And when Ol' Texas Jack was shot
Straight dead---he very nearly died.

But his horse, a sandy mare she was,
Rode in from ancient Mexico.
She kissed him once betwixt the eyes---
He jumped right up
Where his tombstone lies!

Yeah, when Ol' Texas Jack was shot,
Wild Bill was by his side.
He told me this tale I tell to you,
And they both went off to ride.

And if you go to Laramie or maybe
Tombstone too, you'll see them
Playing extras!  They'll sit rite next to you!
The pay's real good and the grubs alrite,
And if you stay up all night,
You'll see them riding in the mist.
They're gone.  Turn off the lights.

Details | Ballad | |


Spellbound by the shimmering moonlight by the silent lagoon,
the oldest witness to every lover's secrets in enchanted Venice,
whispering soft words, afraid of being stolen by that stranger
who could be a wanderer or an intruder...
the dry leaves, beneath the drooping pine trees,
will crackle if he attempts to hear them too soon!

Moments lived into a silver night,
when the narrow streets are empty and dark
and the gondolas rest at the quite docks,
are as magical as the warm glow in these cheerful eyes;
and if our hands seem so frantic,
our quick thougths may be less romantic!

Following the trail of the ascending moon,
how loneliness is detected in her glance...
if we stare at her melancholic face!
And should we bring her a little comfort
by singing her the tune of a lovely song,
but how long will her presence loom?

Moments lived into a silver night...
are wonderfully remembered through a lifetime,
even more than that one unforgettable kiss...
while the gondolier rows the gondola through the canals
of a city that still withstands the fury of tides;
will another city be as beautiful as this?

We'll die before Venice will completely
disappear into the Adriatic Sea...
so let's cherish these moments of ecstasy,
and leave something to remember us by;
I'll write the words and the melody,
and you will sing it to her sweetly!

Moments lived into a silver night... 
linger among these strong and old walls of Venice: 
where the legendary Marco Polo slept, 
where ordinary and famous people wept;
fall asleep on my chest and feel the sea-breeze,
by morning we'll be awaked by a brilliant light! 

Details | Ballad | |

Forsaken Eurydice

A quick game is all it will be
I can tell you can hear my shouts and screams from forest 
Your home it beckons thee
Why won't you come and play with me?
Why cant you cure her?
The venom isn't too deep
If you could awaken her once
Cant you do it again
 Did sorrow blind you?
Eurydice Eurydice how mortal death has forsaken thee
Why I not could listen to the dread king
All the life to you I could bring
I had to look back with eyes of dismay
Eurydice Eurydice how mortal death has forsaken thee 
Music no more will there be 
For I have forsaken my Eurydice 
He will never listen 
No is all you will hear
Death is always the killer of love
Death will always win
Go back to your kingdom
My words have been proclaimed
Your music will not be able to charm
Why don't you please
Give him his love
He went this far in vainI
f he cannot see her blank face
Wont why you please
Eurydice Eurydice how mortal death has forsaken thee
Why I not could listen to the dread king
All the life to you I could bring
I had to look back with eyes of dismay
Eurydice Eurydice how mortal death has forsaken thee 
Music no more will there be
 For I have forsaken my Eurydice
If it will please
You can see her
Only without your eyes
Throughout the dark realm
Looking back will forsaken your Eurydice
Eurydice Eurydice how mortal death has forsaken thee
Why I not could listen to the dread king
All the life to you I could bring
I had to look back with eyes of dismay
Eurydice Eurydice how mortal death has forsaken thee 
Music no more will there be
 For I have forsaken my Eurydice

Details | Ballad | |

Emily Dickinson (1830-1866)

In her isolation
For it is there
She dreams
And in expressions 
It seems 
For in a lifetime  
We could never interpret
The Civil war crimes 
Passionate ink spreads with mystery 
In a time of such history 
Unique is her style 
Her words 
With “Capital” punctuation 
For her formation 
And true imagery that indulges the mind 
Here you will find 
She has chosen but a way 
Many other poets couldn’t sway 
And so it wasn’t until her 
 Her work gave but a breath 
Upon the published page
In the age 
Of 1866 
Where she was otherwise missed

Details | Ballad | |


The silent battlefield has drawn its armorial...
no smoke rising from weapons so unsurpassable;
bodies lying on the bloody grass;
some writhing, many lifeless!

One nation has risen against  another nation...
with the plausible thought that one
will subdue the other and conquer;
but the losses on both sides seem an equal share!

Victory is a vain word,
if it hasn't considered or honored
its noble purpose through peace;
many lives could have been spared...
turning their worth over an unjudicial conscience,
and rid itself of a costly vengeance!

Those daughters and sons will not return to their mothers,
and an acute pain will perforate their helpless hearts;
and they could have become great minds and leaders:
and with their death, their thoughts have perished with their dreams!

Victory is a vain word,
smeared on dead faces that look upright...
for that mercy and compassion the enemy did't give;
they may be dead in body, but not in the spirit!
Look !  I see them walking with God,
who will give them another life for their firm belief! 

Belligerence is the outcome of rampant hatred,
and Man will become a beast in order to accomplish it...
without regard and pity,not compromising, 
but scheming with an uncontrollable wrath!

Now their voices aren't shouting,and their hands
are still stained with unwashable blood;
nightmares are the visitations of demons
who complement their minds with a cruel reward:
victory has lost meaning and ardor ,
nothing can bring them to a calm shore!

Details | Ballad | |

Stanza 1971

In ol' Songbe the choppers rise
From the sling-out pad with sleepy eyes,
All filled with special OD goodies--
Frags and doo just for the boonies.

We'll convoy up Rt. 309
And build a bridge 
Where the French one stood.

The laterite is packed real tight
To support the five-tons through the fight.
The peneprime smells oooh just right
With body bags stacked in the hootch tonight.

So come sing the happy convoy song:
Santana is struming and "beer to the front!"
"Carry me back to ol' Kambuja,"
The electric guitars drift o'er the berm.

And the sweat is mixed with the three-two beer,
Nobody here is filled with fear,
And the stars by the thousands stand up to cheer
Santana and doo and a breeze from the sea.

The rockets are pretty seen from afar.

Details | Ballad | |

over a coarse of time

Seems I’ve reminisced 
The feel
Of a home cooked meal
Ducking the pleasures 
Of a sainted veil 
A clause in the end
From which finer things appeal
Black jack matches not
To a fisher mans luck
On an antique reel
But on the real
The expectations in this life
Remain a comfort 
That refuses to chill
Let your thoughts rest 
On an old lads chest 
Considering the circumstances
If we make it 
We can all attest 
And adore this political mess 
If not then as victims of stress 
Unblessed in this planet 
Of slanted chess
We’ll confess

Another night
Another days passes 
Do you find it lovely 
How nothing ever last
But many men have cured
Their fascination 
Of becoming non minute men
Flawed by incarceration
Deep within the dungeons 
Of a  softer conscience
In irregular form
A veteran lies victim
Of defeated white blood cells
A child with no home 
And swollen tonsils 
The dark settles 
Flashbacks meddle 
Trouble around the corner 
As a lunch line unveils 
Never was a fighter 
Just a swinger 
As I found myself catapulted against 
The cafeteria wall
The integrity 
My sucker punch instilled 
Broken glass jaws 
Over a 4th grade meal
Or mainly just an individual 
Twice the size of me 
With an inability to feel
I sat still 
As the principal sought 
A stern punishment
Not as astonished with 
The other kids compliments
For my stomach ache
From a lack of warm condiments 

Moral of the story  is 
I was fighting then
I’m still fighting now
Obstacles tend to ware me down
The inexperience of my peers 
Seem to no longer enlighten me now
Have to find new ways to learn
Or disappear into the unclear
Fatigued as a writer
Tend to want to touch on subjects 
Closer to lighter
Symptoms of a September baby
A Virgo born of a harlot 
With nine children unknown 
A none buffalo soldier
A phantom on a Harley
The ghost of Robert Marley
An astronaut in my younger years
Screaming for Apollo thirteen
As the thunder neared 
Off my coarse of inspiration 
I veered 

Details | Ballad | |

a song for storms

We live
We look for strength 
To go on
Day in
Days with in a song
We give
Second to our ribs
Circle of my thoughts
Where’s home

Collectors coming for my sins
I’m just as filthy as most refuted men
Whom disputed over realms of broken limbs
Sounds of an acoustic rose
Singing with in my misery
No other agony could produce these lows
The stabilization of man kind
History is only statistical values on rewind
My logic to look further than a keepers find 
I hope you become the change you look to see
Giving it back for all that this 
State of being has taken from me
This broken image I have awaken to be

We live 
We search for strength
To go on
Days in
Days with in a song
We sing 
Circles of my thoughts
I want to go home

Don’t give up on life
Don’t let it get the best of your nights
Nine children, from no two women
But one 
Woman’s worth taken beneath a shaded sun
Sympathetic I cannot be
For I never really referred to her as “mom”
Your economy appears to crumbling
Why I tend to give you all 
The bitter half of the songs in me 
Look forward, toward tomorrows coming
For days know not where they come from
If it gets no better, allow us to breathe
Take upon the breeze with leaves
For autumn seems to strangle 
Suffering from our sleeves
A New York warmth 
Hidden beneath winter charms

We live 
We search for strength
To go on
Days in
Days with in a song
We sing 
Circles of my thoughts
I want to go home

Details | Ballad | |

Kings and Queens

Sun dappled shadows
Reflecting spirit’s form
Moss covered standing stones
From afternoon still warm
The kings and queens of yesterday
Yet hold the evensong
Prayers for peace prosperity
A right for every wrong
With every war that has been fought
Upon these sacred grounds
Run fast the blood of future lives
And yet the drum deep sounds
Calling soul to hold a place
Upon the earth still fair
Stay the sword for truce by might
Lends your grace to bear
A heart that bleeds for all life held
Within the hands of fate
Behold the truth where patterns meld
And time she runs too late
The past and future meet as one
Where power thickens still
And stately folk are seen at night
Still gathered on high hill.

Details | Ballad | |

' Legendary ... ' ( Part 4 (of) 4)

‘ Legendary …’  ( Part  4 (of) 4 ) 

Now, that the Maiden was Unaided, Quickly, ‘He’ Located, Her Craftily
Beth, was in A Flurry, Too Much in a Hurry to Hear Turning of A Key 
Alas’ … The Happenstance of Harm, at the Bower, twas’ Done Most Foully !
Alas’ … The Happenstance of Alarm, Maid twas’ Undone for Shameful Villainy!

 * * *  The Maid so Afraid, for The Earl Waylaid – Her, to His Infamy
He Ravaged and Damaged The Maid … and Took Her Innocency …

And She, in Her Distress and Mental-Regress and Misery
Sat Horrified-Aloof, Sitting in Soiled Proof, of Her Plundered Chastity
There Could Nay be Gathered, Her Tattered-Wits twere’ Shattered, even for Modesty
As The Earl snidely Chuckled, and Boastingly Buckled His Belt, Smirking Heinously

Yea, The Earl had Sated His Dissipated Lust and Gloated – Gleefully
Went Back to The Masque-Ball and Unmasked and Called and Mocked Maliciously
Impugned Beth, to One and All, of Her Downfall from Grace to Impropriety
The Earl Made Sure … The Stunned Knight Would Overhear, The Indecency …

But Much to The Earl’s Chagrin and also Akin to Cowardice and Incredulity
… The Knight Spoke Nay a Word, Only The Hissing of His Sword, Struck Accordingly
The Last Look, The Earl Saw Was … Rage and The Fraught-Gaze of  Insanity !
Yea, The Knight, Smote The Gloat off The Face of the Vile Earl, Most Deservedly …

* * *

Thence, The Knight, in Their Sight, Became Legend That Night as He Fought Mightily
He Escaped Royal Guards, His Heart was Beating Hard, as He made it to The Bowery
And by the Window, He could see by Melted Tallow, a piece of cloth hung Raggedly
caught Wherefore Beth … had jumped to Her Death … and Lay Below Crookedly …

* * *

Now, Tis’ Sad To Recite … They Hung The Poor Knight,  tis’ Further Travesty
For The Earl, tho’ Highborn, wast’ a Cur to Be Scorned … a Monstrosity !
Alas’ …  and Aghast, the hope of Lovers Together at Last, Turned into Tragedy
Fie’ and Fain, lest’ we Forget, this be A Story and yet… couldst’ be Reality …

Yea, Fie’ and Fain, lest’ We Forget, …  Why The Earl, His End Met … 

                        … This Too Was Vanity …   Eccl. 1: 14

‘ … Sweet Wine On My Lips … Drip In Ecstasy
Sweet Touch On My Hips … Smooth as Warm Honey
Sweet Love of My Soul … Last An Eternity
Sweetheart, Be Thy Bold in Bravery …
… and if Sweet Talk, Be A Token
And Language Be Spoken …
Be Legendary … Be Thou Legendary ! ‘

                               The End

Details | Ballad | |

Master of War

He pauses for effect and pretends to listen and hear,
then proceeds anyway and gives the order to conquer.
Though far is his reach he is really very near,
causing destruction, he brings chaos and fear.

Silhouettes and shadows dance all over the wall
but he heeds not the warning of the impending toll.
From across the ocean he kills, maims and attacks,
he arrests and he tortures, he insults and he mocks.

He drops bombs, launches cruise missiles and planes,
he fires cannons, sends troops on ships and trains.
He barks orders, he wiretaps and he spies,
he fundraises, he schemes and he lies.

He does not hesitate to place fighting men in harm’s way,
yet years ago, when put to the test, he scampered away.
He’s brave and he’s fearless he will do whatever it takes
as long as it’s not his sorry life at stake.

His nation’s best come home in cold, flag-draped coffins,
but not to worry, just statistics, save the cost of morphines.
For the good times roll for the dumb warrior and his base
since November 2000 and it has always been the case.

He turns wives into widows, innocent kids into orphans,
sowing deaths on thousands of daughters and sons.
He cries crocodile tears, even tries hard to appear he’s sorry
in front of cameras for the headlines of the day.

He never fails to attend service with his wife every Sunday,
a black sheep once but claims the Lord showed him the way.
Yet nothing will stop him from character assassination
for his party and, believe you me, in the name of his nation!

We’re spreading democracy, the little boy warrior says,
in press conferences he holds on some occasional days.
While his weary war machine stutters and cranks,
his rich cronies laugh all the way to the bank.

Yes, the Decider smiles, he surveys and he conquers,
he pretends to listen though he does not really hear.
Shame on the whole world, the UN, shame on us all,
for not reining in this evil man and just taking the fall.

Details | Ballad | |

The Sufferings Of The Dumb

With the dust whirling round the wheel,
The walls of throat seeming to seal,
In the sun bleached roads of soil-
Ran the feet of the bulls faster with toil.

Their shoulders hath blackened in time's course,
The wooden bar to them like a saw's coarse,
The ribs out of hunger come out as though-
To satisfy themselves with the rays of the yellow bow.

I know not and nor does the owner;
Since when these poor chaps has turned to labourers,
And from whence time's sharp wheel acted sharper to their neck;
Let alone to miserable dreams which it did wreck.

They look at the soil unhindered by any sound -
The sufferings of the blunt labour is the only that's
                                       through them is found.

Were we made humans by our maker -
For this day to turn from cruel to crueler-
To treat the dumb in a way as this-
By feeling of ours which we call to be the deepest feels?

Details | Ballad | |

Ginger Cross (war time)

Ginger Cross was only ten
When they called up England's men
Watched them marching in their ranks
Shouldered rifles, army tanks

Ginger's father went away
On that grey November day
Left his mum and sister Mary
In  the streets of Cantebury

Neighbor's dog Lucky Strike
Chased the post man on his bike
Ginger longed to go and fight
Heard the bombs that dropped at night

Saw the wreckage in his town
Homes and buildings fallen down
Looking high up in the sky
Watched the enemy planes pass by

Flying like a swarm of bees
Sees the search lights in the trees
Hand in hand with Auntie Flo
Hurries Ginger  far below

Hear the sirens, feel the quake
Wonders where is brother Jake
In a trench of mud and rain
No one hears his cries of pain

Air raid shelters, dark and deep
Souls of London, fast asleep
Hear the cries and feel the loss
Of war time child, Ginger Cross

Details | Ballad | |


A cool rain has come down,
and stopped the rising of the sun:
a day of mourning for all in the silent city,
and it feels as sad as it felt yesterday;
eyes cry and mix themselves
 with the falling raindrops...

Console them with song,
with words that don't speak of indignation;
all they want is a possible consolation,
because a loss of someone so loved...
looks for ways of healing through faith,
and if they can't be found...they'll rely on strength! 

I've never seen so many flowers
laid at the site of the memorial,
and thousands of names being read
at the exact time the attacks occurred;
more tears and sobs, but also prayers
will be heard for the brave and exceptional!

Console them with song,
give them your comforting hugs,
and a flag of endless gratitude...
that flag they died for and they truly loved;
and we who are alive must remember their sacrifice
by walking together and being strong!  

Now, those sad faces see a ray of hope, at nine,
shining on them from the parting clouds;
no rain, no sorrow and tears to add to their pain...
only a certain feeling of ease from words
that are exchanged amid the voices of children:
the generation to rebuild what was torn down!

Details | Ballad | |

' Legendary ... ' ( Part 3 (of) 4 )

‘ Legendary …’  ( Part  3 (of) 4 ) 

… Now, The Earl, had Spies, to keep Intruding Eyes On The Tryst of Secrecy
Beth’s Tresses, like Raven Wings and Eyes Emerald-Green, Became His Fantasies
Yea, He erstwhile Plotted, for He wast’ Besotted with the Cobbler’s Daughter’s Beauty
All to no Avail … for Beth Knew Well,  Twere’ None, More Wretched, than He !

So, She didst’ Spurn his Declaration and Protestations of Undying Fidelity
She didst’ Return, His Portrait and String of Pearls and His Poems, Peremptorily
Forasmuch, and twas’ this and such, She Rebuffed all His Pleasantries
In Favor of Her Knight, she Reserved This Right, which Enraged, Their Enemy
 - - - - - - -
Now, Twas’ but an Instant, of Insistent Cajoling, that Beth Pleaded Prettily
To Part with Her Swain, til’ Their Hearts Came, to be Joined For Perpetuity
To Compose Herself, for Their Nuptial-Heft, She twould  Prepare Hastily
And Rendezvous for His View, stating … ‘ I  twould’ Look, My Best for Thee!’

And as She left His side, She was Singing Most Merrily …

‘ …  Carry Me in Thine Arms, to Our Beloved Balcony
To a Bed of Blushing-Rose-Petals and Wild-Tossed-Peonies
A Bed Lover’s Designed … Draped in Damask and Brocade -Satiny
And let Moon-Glow, from Yon’ Window, Bathe Us Both Bodily … ‘

… and The Handsomely Styled, Smitten Knight Smiled, as He Heard Her Warm Gaiety …

… Sweet Wine On My Lips … Drip In Ecstasy
Sweet Touch On My Hips … Smooth as Warm Honey
Sweet Love of My Soul … Last An Eternity
Sweetheart, Be Thy Bold in Bravery …
… and if Sweet Talk, Be A Token
And Language Be Spoken …
Be Legendary … Be Thou Legendary !

                                  ( Part 3 (of) 4 )

Details | Ballad | |

The Knight That Drove the Old Pixie Down

Virgin Brain is my name,
Served on the Disneyworld choo-choo
'Til my supervisor came,
and tore up my time card again...

In the summer of '95...
I joined the Templar Knights
Kind'a dig that kind of  jive....
By August the tenth,
My assignment to me had fell,
And it was one that would  lead me straight to hell...

The Knight I Drove the Old Pixie Down,
and tom bell was ringin'
The Knight I drove the Old Pixie Down,
and the children were singing,
The Knight Who Drove the Old Pixie Down!
They went; da, da, da, how friggin' dumb
da,da, da, your brain is numb
da, duh?, da, duh?, da, da, da!
da,  da, da, da, da, da, da....

Back in my tenement in Brooklyn,
When one day  a young cop did call me,
Virgin , come quick, you're wanted for robbery!!
Now I don't mind servin' time
But the food is no good,
Just be sure, the crime is mine...
Ya take the sentence given,
and ya gotta' serve your time..
But they never should
have taken...
My denim vest!

Like my mother before me,
I will work the ol' rockpile...
Like the guards above me,
I will seldom smile..
I was just dumb, stupid and niave
But the cops got me, so
they could save....
The little pixie I was stalking
Prepared to take her down,
And they got me just before
I was about to have found...
The nasty little pixie,
So evil and so sly,

No wonder someone had paid me,
To see that pixie die...

The Knight Who Drove Old Pixie Down,
The Knight Who Drove Old Pixie Down
And the stoolies were singin'
They went....Ya, ya, ya, he's guilty
Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya...

I swear by the ball and chain
On my feet
You can't release a con too soon....
When he's up for parole,
He'd have a better chance,
on the moon.....

Repeat chorus and fade...

Details | Ballad | |

The Brothers, Jo

Standing there before the air,

A brother stood on high.

I remember the day,

When he couldn’t play,

And they forced him,

to say Good-bye.

Sold was He, to captivity,

And seeding the deed,

brother Jealousy.

But brothers know and

Those Brothers, Jo..?

They chose, just not to sea.

Looking now, two forgive,

Seeing how, they wish to live,

Knowing now, of what they did.

And standing there, seeing care,

A Brother stood on High.

I remember the day,

He forgave their way,

And loved them, under the sky.

It took a while, a test, a trial,

But Brothers once again.

From up on High, up near the Sky,

The Sun-shine in just then…

Details | Ballad | |

The Lusitania (Part Two)

Explosions rock the boat;
Ocean gushes inside.
The battered stern won't float,
All controls lock their slide.

Listing fifteen degrees,
The lifeboats fail to launch.
Swift decent lugs a squeeze
Impossible to staunch.

After mounting seconds
The vessel starts to slow,
While the stark deep beckons
To swallow them below.

Schweiger spies the turmoil
From aboard U-20.
Acts of rage shall embroil.
Outcomes destroy plenty.

Along the starboard side,
Crewmen sadly lose grip.
Force and terror collide--
Rag dolls plummet and flip.

The Merseyside Bowler,
Captain Bill Turner stays
As the helm controller
Until the sea betrays.

He scoops the chart and log
Before tossed by the wave
To splash down in the fog
As deck chairs bob to save.

Eighteen minutes stalk down
As the queen disappears,
This vessel of the crown
Sheds life essence like tears.

Of the forty-eight rafts,
Only six salvage lives.
Few are plucked from the craft,
Rescued before the dive.

Bodies scramble for life
As the rouge flotsam floats.
Survivors torn by strife
Wait for swift rescue boats.

The massive toll of grief
Demands a quick response.
Liars sell disbelief,
More soldiers to ensconce.

Freedom dies from deceit
Since justice needs to thrive.
Heroes wail in defeat
When covert acts contrive.

So Schweiger falls denounced
For his sinister role.
Yet U-boats do fall trounced
By the British patrol.

Bounties Cunard offers 
To captains ramming foes
Offer tempting coffers
For quelling danger woes.

Poor Lusitania!
Dashed by corruptive lies.
Shielding truth in disguise.

The sleeping giant stirs
Due to brutal accounts,
Sparking violent slurs
With omissive recounts.

Woodrow Wilson blusters
At the German attack
While the bankers muster
To break our nation’s back.

Indignant elites rule
Behind grim deception.
Lessons untaught in school
Show wicked inception.

Details | Ballad | |


I rest my hand, 
upon golden sand 

My glittering sword 
In faith, it has been forged 
for the cross of St George 

Jewelled  rapier and soft silk, 
the men I fight, 
is of that ilk 
They do not see the light 

This battle of idealogical will 
I have had my fill 
For, the paths ,so wide, 
a bitter divide 

For one side must fall, 
to end it all 
But the enemy never does rest, 
spreading it's poison, 
far in to the West 

For this crusade 
for St George 
We cannot fade, 
weapons to forge 
For we must rise, 
defend the faith and the wise 
Go to meet, 
sit at our gods feet 

Now this winged sword I fly 
deep in to the night 
Puts the enemy to flight 
They never give up the fight, 
for they try and try 

I sometimes wonder why 
when I rest my hand 
on soft golden sand 
I hear my heart cry 
That I have seen this all before 
in another time 
another war 

Our lessons never learned 
Our enemy never turned 
Our houses burned 
Our entreaties never returned 

For, if we must, 
send our ideological enemies, 
back to sand and dust 
This is not the only way 
but our enemies are eager for the fray 

My chain mail 
has become chain gun 
This battle,far from won 
We must not fail, 
for our time is not yet done 

I sometimes wonder why 
as I rest my hand , 
upon golden sand 
at this idealogical blunder 

For there are no winners, 
only the dead 
at the battle for the sinners 
Only war, 
No peace,no law 
The enemy will never be enticed 
in to the world of Christ 

I sometimes wonder why 
as I lay my hand 
on this golden sand 
Stifle a cry, 
Is this why we cannot rest 
in the battle between East and West 

Details | Ballad | |

Snake Man

It was out on Dead Dog Prairie
Where the days were hot and dry,
That a cowboy known as Snake Man
Made the cy'ote start to cry.

He was mean and tough as leather
When he loaded up his gun,
And he rode his horse from dawn till dusk
While gath'ring up the sun.

His job was one most folks don't want...
He hunted rattlesnakes.
He took the skins and made some boots,
His livelihood to make.

So now you know the reason for
The name they called him by,
And why the cy'ote...robbed of meals,
Would often start to cry.

Details | Ballad | |

Lady G

She rides by day,
Carefully side saddled 
With cascading hair
Cleverly poised
To cover her being.
She is a rebel,
Willing to take
Into her own hands
That which others
Would only dream 
Of ever doing,
Yet, feared too much.
She is a lady, indeed,
And can challenge all,
But she remains demure
And so respected.
She is a force
Within her soft skin.
Her name shall live
Through eternity.

Details | Ballad | |


Sunflowers and lilies fluttering
in the sweet scented breeze...   
seagulls descending
from the clearest sky penetrating,
even further than thought, 
into the tuneless waves
of the peaceful sea;
my coming to this shore
is to sense credibility,
to get a glimpse of creation
before age shows me
the final path,
to witness that all
I created won't  fade into oblivion...

The Country that gave me pride and honor
was more generous than a mother,
alluring me with her charm,
proclaming me her chosen son;
I have wailed her obsence
and at the time of departing, neither
the promise of riches
nor  the vision of prominence
could dissuade me of this sacrifice:
that no other ambition could take me further...

Sorrounded by beauty and infinity,
my first dream gave me the wings of expression...
to go where I dared not go without certainty;
amid storms I would not be lost,
on ascending tides I would not be tossed ashore,
because my courage prepared me for the worst:
while wisdom and knowledge nortured my ego,
my dilemma conflicted with predestination...  

The Country that gave me pride and honor,
long stands for excellence and grandeur...
past glories at every corner,
ruins that still resound of voices,
of ordinary people in the busy markets;
hails bestowed upon the new conqueror
passing underneath the arch of  triumph,
another Caesar declared through the streets of Rome!  

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Prices and Cost

We had a little ice age
Some generations back
Harvests didn’t happen
And people died of lack
Trees grew very slowly
Those that didn’t die
Things like acorn porridge
Kept some folk alive
Others learned to reap the tide
And seagulls learned to hide
Several lifetimes later
Some goodness came from this
Those trees that made it
Through those years
Met  Stradavarius
And the density of  struggle
Echoed through a violin
There's a lesson in there somewhere
Let the symphony

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Undefeated before the cheering crowds,
colors of green,white and red...
a flag that signifies glorious moments
when the fear of losing
conflicted with the joy of winning;
it took  a tremendous courage and an iron will
to put up that fierce fight...  
frightened eyes invoking a living God
who looked into the praying heart,
to grant the wish to that silent voice!  

Undefeated by the opponent
who committed an act of villainy...
to justify his belligerence,
but there's nothing 
like a long-waited victory...
to hail a triumph with gallantry
and revel at something
that almost vanished!

The merry-making voices
of flag-waving fans...
celebrating in crowded piazzas
all over a jubilant Italy
and other countries around the globe,
resuscitated a sentiment  so deep and mellow
that was lost for twenty-four years...
to spark, in their blood ,a flame of joy!

Undefeated by predictions
of malevolent -wishers
who clung to  pessimism
to repress altruism;
joyful eyes drenched in tears, 
there they proudly stand:
the exultant champions... 
recognized by a stunnned world!!

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tree trunk

I live in a tree trunk and everything is hunky doory I really enjoy jim morrison's 
music and I really like fleetwood mac as well we bee boop around to it constantly 
in our heads and always have a good time with it.  I really enjoy the prime it is my 
true love so watch out here we come.  so long world I am here.

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Castles; those lofty symbols
of a romantic, long gone past
For centuries enduring...
Seemingly ever they will last

Ghosts of kings and knights
Perhaps walk their halls on nights
When tourists are gone
and safely in their bed
Tales of sorcerors and dragons
Their dreams are being fed

Seiges, famines, wars, and slow decay
Have long taken their dear toll
My greedy eyes do wander
The past before my mind
The taste of things of then
My dreams would love to find

Awestruck, and feeling so, so small
Standing before their thick stone walls
and mighty towers tall

Perhaps in some forgotten incarnation
I once walked right here
Maybe brave and armed, or maybe scared
Froxen to this spot in cold and clammy fear

Imagination, I don't know...
It really matters not
Brazen brave or just plain fearful
I was then what I now am not alot....
Time, as transitory reality
A phantom not to trust
The person i might have been then
Has long since turned to dust.

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Broken with eyes missing,
Just as two souls were kissing:
Missing spirits in search of merit.
As the wind rose up into the sky,
Circles of ice and hail formed. 

Upon the whisper's scream,
In the horizon's echo:
A return to the primal.
Instinct desires them,
As the sunset's fire burns through their skin.

A token love casts a spell,
Of black magic onto the throne,
Blood-stained and lined with nails,
She sets her eyes upon his image,
Scarred into woven silk cloth.

Centuries old now;
As if for the first time,
At the feel of sunlight,
She lifted up her veil.
The moon rose up into the descending darkness.

Her eyes looked up to the starkness,
Of yesterday's possibility.
As his eyes told her goodbye,
She flashed her sharp fangs at him:
Her dark brown eyes shocked his whim.

Natural, and to effect, her platinum hair:
She was a tigress;
Who moved like a ballerina.
Grace and extravagance defined her;
The way lines cut by a blade bleed.

The sunset gave meaning to the moment;
To the plans he wasn't scheming;
Over the end he was just dreaming of,
She would wear that black fedora,
Then attend his would-be funeral.

For a decade he would hang on,
To the snow in his image.
The mirror is the sky's vain.
He took her up on an offer,
She made in vain.

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Lost in France,
Resting 'neath a simple cross,
Just name,nationality and rank;
Giving of life,was his loss.

At home,
A breaking,aching heart;
A sweetheart's pain;
Her emptiness was another's gain.

In memory fading go
As echoing years slip by,
And still her tears flow;
Vivid yet her anguish sigh.

Forgotten,forfeit and for what?
freedom frailties,fragile,
Such ideas still beguile;
T'was ever thus,a peasant soldier's lot.

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Old 22

I'll never sell my old .22
cause that old .22
shot a gopher or two

I aim to the left
and a little low
cause that old .22 fires high 
and a little to the right.

So i'll never sell that old .22.

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Daughter of Thelema

Wild eyes of Moloch prod evil's rise
Launching an epoch of occult wrath
Obelisks slice open once placid skies
Black brothers prance down the left hand path

Twilight language slithers from forked tongues
Demonic force of atomic fire
Oppenheimer's cult flouts songs unsung
Babylon working death's golem dire

The blue degrees map ritual tests
Incantations dissolve textured space
Cigar burn direct from Satan's nest
Impregnating woe ensures disgrace

Black suits rampage the corrupted womb
Plucking the beastly fetus within
To be locked inside Trinity's tomb
Binding the possessed within hell's spin

Grand blast at the thirty-third degree
Proof of ambitious calculations
While fusing their wicked guarantee
To rope the freewill of all nations

Within months, two more brutal tears fall
Truman pursues Masonic command
Near ground zero, the doomed natives crawl
Victims of fate's cataclysmic hand

Jack Parson's crater haunts the dark side
Tucked from scrutiny like grim intent
A prize for speeding our Babel slide
Beyond our aptitude to repent

Threats still linger beyond destruction
As men hold our whole planet captive
Thelema's spirit aids their function
Even as her daughter grows restive

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No it's not a gun,
a malt drink minus one
a waist size
or a world war II year
it's not the temperature
in early springs
not a Vick's cough syrup
it's none of these things

it's the number of volumes
of journals/diaries,
call them what you will
that chronical my life
the victories, the joys, the hurts,
the friends, lovers, and the strife
my hopes, dreams, poems and 
much much more still
only one other person in this world
has been privy to it, and now knows
what's been in my head from 1967
right on until now
that one is my sweet Rose
only Rose knows

I wrote these long lasting journals-
a release for me to use,
with a dark secret, or crazy thought
things that have happened to me
things that have come to naught
many silly, stupid entries
much wisdom, brilliance too,
you never know just what you'll get
you can count on that to be true

but someday...when I am
long. long gone...
maybe someone somewhere will see
what my time was like,
what was going on....

see, when my family first moved
into the family house of 50 years
we found a few great treasures
one very special on, which did bring tears

for in this somewhat faded diary
from 1863, a life in all its colors
did open up very wide for me to see

I felt honored, touched, and somewhat sad,
to think this sweet soul was so long gone
she spoke from the heart, and showed me a world
I could never taste,
and now I knew her life
had never been a waste

because she reached out thru
the centuries, to tell me her tale of life
it seemed to me to validate her being
was more than a long forgotten,
faded tombstone, a name,
maybe with a year
and for a moment somehow
she had become,
someone who was right here.

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A long time ago
when this country was being born
we used to treat the nativeswith hatred and with scorn

People said that progress 
was sure to come along
when everyone was white
and the Indian dead and gone

We took away their country
and ushered in the black
it wasn`t very long
till we tried to send them back

Now is this realy progrewss
 no nation likes the other
father killing son
and brother fighting brother

Now many years have passed
and things they seem the same
nation fighting nation
and war is just a game

The brits they fought the Frenchme
then along there came the Hun
progress just seemed tobe
 who had the biggest gun

Now you read the paper
a husband kills his wife
a son he kills his mother 
and is sentenced then to life

Now I sit and wonder 
what will my children see
fifty years from now
what will progress be

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Joseph,a levite from Cyrprus,fair
Displayed his gifts with loving care;
A son of encouragment,he was called
This bold Barnbas of old.
The first advocate for Tarsus,Saul
With words he smoothed the path for Paul;
Then to Antiocn,post haste was sent,
To nuture young Christians he was lent;
A teacher,prophet of the Lord
With the apostles he spread the word,
Enduring dangers he fulfilled his call,
A man of principle...example to all.

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IT WAS 1969

In a starlit sky, 
a beautiful moon rose 
I watched it pass by 

I looked upon the earth 
and saw green and blue 

Frosted clouds of white 
Forests  stretched far, 
behind the night 

In the minds' eye 
such vividness 
belongs to you and I 

Where was i? 
Far way 
High in the sky 

It was 1969 
We came back from the moon, 
everything I could see... 
Was all mine 

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I rest my hand, 
upon golden sand 

My glittering sword 
In faith, it has been forged 
for the cross of St George 

Jewelled  rapier and soft silk, 
the men I fight, 
is of that ilk 
They do not see the light 

This battle of idealogical will 
I have had my fill 
For, the paths ,so wide, 
a bitter divide 

For one side must fall, 
to end it all 
But the enemy never does rest, 
spreading it's poison, 
far in to the West 

For this crusade 
for St George 
We cannot fade, 
weapons to forge 
For we must rise, 
defend the faith and the wise 
Go to meet, 
sit at our gods feet 

Now this winged sword I fly 
deep in to the night 
Puts the enemy to flight 
They never give up the fight, 
for they try and try 

I sometimes wonder why 
when I rest my hand 
on soft golden sand 
I hear my heart cry 
That I have seen this all before 
in another time 
another war 

Our lessons never learned 
Our enemy never turned 
Our houses burned 
Our entreaties never returned 

For, if we must, 
send our ideological enemies, 
back to sand and dust 
This is not the only way 
but our enemies are eager for the fray 

My chain mail 
has become chain gun 
This battle,far from won 
We must not fail, 
for our time is not yet done 

I sometimes wonder why 
as I rest my hand , 
upon golden sand 
at this idealogical blunder 

For there are no winners, 
only the dead 
at the battle for the sinners 
Only war, 
No peace,no law 
The enemy will never be enticed 
in to the world of Christ 

I sometimes wonder why 
as I lay my hand 
on this golden sand 
Stifle a cry, 
Is this why we cannot rest 
in the battle between East and West 

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Every heart belongs a Country...
big or small,  with or without prosperity;
a beloved and cherished Country
has its precious name
on each heart loving freedom!

It may have a beautiful ocean or sea,
breathtaking mountains so misty,
or a desert that can never flourish;
it may have raging rivers,
wild forests with sparkling waterfalls...
wealthy or unwealthy it is still a bliss!

Every heart belongs to a Country,
my Country is no different from others...
with a sky ever blue, like the calm sea
hiding islands with a striking beauty;
I walked its flowery and rocky paths,
plunged my looks to the clear deep
to discover what others seek...
nothing She withheld from me!

A foreigner among native inhabitants,
abiding and hard-working,  
thriving in this prosperous Country...
where all are given an opportunity;
and if  everyone starts out
with the simplest dream,
it can bring them financial security...
anything is at their command through incentive!

Every heart belongs to a Country,
it may be mine, yours or theirs;
it may be depraved of liberty or free,
have green forests, open meadows
or barren soil without streams...
but the people's creed 
is sacred and holy!
Loalty and bravery always endure
in every heart that belongs to that Country...
that can inflame their ardor!

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To be on this earth is hard to my recollection.people dying ,people killing,poeple 
even willing to sell their children for a little bit of money. that is not funny honey.we 
were but on this earth to serve as saviors, know it is time for us to get punished 
for our wrong behaviors.why everytime god shows us the rainbow all we show 
him is pain.why is it that all these rappers talk about booty shaking, when they 
sould talk adout how we have been mistaken.Ive made a promise to myself that I 
would make this world a better place for the human race.but I guess the toll that 
life was supposed to take was not payed. all the cards dealed was not played.It 
seems to me that all the problems that were made well I guess all our debts 
were payed. next the grimm reaper is gonna get it too.sometimes I feel 
discouraged and sometimes I feel incouraged.