No pagan crown of fossil lairs
Of him I write no verse nor song
T’is not a soup to stir nor share
When lending strength, to something wrong.
Seconds cloned from darkest matter
Mutated minutes dredged by fear
Mind confusion as reason shatters
Innocents lanced by emotion's spears.
Flowers edge the steps and fences
Prayers are uttered near a shrine
Notes of love, as grief commences
A vigil wrought by hearts sublime.
Picking up the scattered pieces
Light must shine to crack the dawn
Support can smooth the furrowed creases
Only hope can make their spirits strong.
To love your country,
you must commit yourself indefinetly;
there are no doubts, or fears
when it comes to defend it fervently..
do it for the sake of your family,
or your countrymen who wish for peace!
They will send you to distant lands,
away from your loved ones...
to uphold freedom and its sanctity,
and you'll shine with bravery!
Anytime peace is threatened,
you'll retaliate and engage in combat,
true soldiers always fight with self-confidence,
never retreat in any circumstance!
There'll be days of fright , of darkness and despair,
and nights to shed tears on cold pillows;
no tender eyes to glance into or arms to embrace,
but surrendering distorts your honor!
As the mission comes to its end suddenly,
and you are one of the surviivors to declare victory,
although you'll also grieve for the fallen ones:
you'll wave your flag to the calmest skies!
To love your country,
you must avail yourself of dignity
and protect its borders vigilantly;
be aware of its tremendous cost:
risk your own life,or allow
the enemy to toast!
I've got a tropical obsession
I think I'm losing my mind
I want to see my work day done
Go out and have some fun
And leave the city life behind.
I love the roar of the ocean
The smell of tanning lotion
A secluded beach somewhere
There are coconuts in the trees
With a warm and gentle breeze
And a flower in your hair.
I've got a tropical obsession
It's driving me up a wall
I want the palm trees and the shore
Blue skies and so much more
Oh God! I want it all
There's an island in the sea
I can hear it calling me
Saying come on home today
I'll bring my old beach chair
Plant it in the sand somewhere
And that's where I'm going to stay
I've got a tropical obsession
And I just can't set it free
On an island remote
In a little fishing boat
Is where I want to be.
I came here with flowers
held gently to my sobbing chest,
to bring them to my dearest;
I have departed from the living,
to come face to face with my ending...
I lay my flowers at this cold tombstone...
engraved with a name too sweet,
and yet so painful to call it out;
the heat in my throbbing veins
could warm it up with a loving wish before dawn;
but who can resurrect someone from death?
This morning is dazzled by an intense sun,
carnations, flags and tombstones
perfectly blend as the swaying pines
offer their breeze and soothing shade towards noon;
why are the noisy larks hiding,
and melancholically sing?
I rushed here to release these tears
and let them roll from these eyes,
like raindrops falling on this very quiet place:
where tranquility is as eternal as Paradise...
I lay my flowers at this cold tombstone,
feeling a presence so known;
others before me have knelt and cried,
not to forget whom they lost and dearly loved...
Snowflakes don't make me forget
the lovely places where we lay...
everything that's being covered by
the cold and fluffy snow;
there are many precious things that
won't ever be buried below!
My wishes are small in size,
but big in their meaning...
like the eternal images
of a past Christmas' memory:
laughing and caroling...while
strolling down the festive streets
of a city that never stops to greet:
the stranger,the dreamer and the seeker!
My wishes are small in size...
that even imagination can't summarize!
Folks are so busy going to
and from...rushing through the drifting snow,
making sure everyone is on their list;
we are in a different kind of spirit...
the one that lasts through
this merry and thoughtful season of awe:
making wishes that have
true delights and more!
My wishes are small in size,
but big in their meaning;
as the snow slowly falls, I fantasize...
a Christmas' dream is beginning!
On A cold winter's night, I look out from the comfort of my chair,
Thankful not to be out in that cold winter's air.....
As I hear the wind pounding, this I know,
I'm thankful I'm not out in all that snow.....
I take one more look, and now I think maybe,
I'll crawl into bed, and curl up with my baby!
Way up there in the great North West
In a place called Exmouth town
I’m lying on a sandy beach
With sea so vast and grand,
And I’m waiting for the turtles
To beach and lay their eggs,
As the evening’s soft and balmy
And the sand’s a snug warm bed.
No turtles came ashore that night,
Cause folk were everywhere.
With too much foolish people noise,
Oh, so much din was there.
No turtle would be that insane,
It was like a circus show.
So me well I just settled down,
And went me with the flow.
I lay there looking at the skies,
And as the day went dim,
I saw the stars a gleam like jewels,
As me, I dived within.
And Venus glowing like a lamp
Reflected from the ocean.
Aphrodite did shine through her,
I could feel me loves devotion.
And Orion was above my head,
Three stars there in a row.
And above them was that greyish haze,
It was like a milky glow.
And that milky- way poured into me,
As I felt such mystery.
And in that mystic space so vast
I glimpsed me ecstasy.
Two hours passed, my mind was stoned ,
By the beauty of the night.
As the star of love shone so intense,
With no moon there in sight,
And I thanked the all so tenderly,
For the bliss I gained within.
I never saw no turtles there,
But I cleansed my mind of din.
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!
We’re heading north to Exmouth,
Carnarvon we’ve just passed.
We be driving up a serpent road,
As the country seems so vast.
It’s hot outside, but in this van,
The air cons on and all,
As all along the road we pass,
Little goats, so beautiful….
And everywhere, most endlessly,
There’s a billion termite mounds.
Like baked brown little mountains,
They’re everywhere around.
We stopped near one, I marveled,
That a tiny beast, and blind!
Could build these blessed monuments,
It nearly blew my mind.
I took me then some photographs
Of these engineering feats,
As I let the awe and wonder,
Into my dull mind seep.
In such a vast, still country,
In the silence of the way,
Those mounds stood out so powerful,
In the heat of a sunburned day.
We took her to the nursing home
to visit family,
She happily skipped down its halls
beside the elderly.
Withered hands reached for curls,
Old eyes filled with duress,
Some followed her in patched wheelchairs
and praised her pretty dress.
Those darling giggles brought them near
as she played silly games,
And several ladies called her closer,
each using different names.
A wheezing man gave her biscuits
then pleaded that she pray
so she clasped her hands for him
in her angelic way.
She proudly danced for worn nurses,
Then sang her A, B, C’s,
And drummed out the barking curses
of stale senility.
Oh, my girl treated them like pets
Who had just too far roamed,
And sweetly asked with guileless eyes,
“Why can’t I take one home?”
*For Joann Grisetti's Copy Cat Contest
*This poem is a tribute to Edna St Vincent Millay's A Visit to the Asylum, done in a similar form (ballad), though Edna's syllable count is looser. This is based on our weekly visits with my father-in-law. We take my daughter and she brings such joy to the place, yet my blood freezes as I'm never sure who will say what to her, and erratic strangers are contantly trying to pull her into their laps, steal hugs and kisses. It is both beautiful and disturbing and I've been wanting to write about this for several months. I had seen the similiarity between Edna's poem and my daughter's experiences. Glad to put this to paper in this way. Thanks, Joann.
Holy order of the Devil
It was a long, long journey
To find that quadrivial
We had to trek across the mountains
Though it was beautiful
The danger it was ever near
Those priests with all their din
Had made this place an evil lair
A reservoir of sin
We came to where the meeting was
All the priest were Gathered there
One read a pericope out loud
The atmosphere so rare
His ligures shone like a thousand stars
From the breastplates that he wore
The words he spoke with intensity
Touched each priest to the core.
Oh it was unbelievable
That high priest had such power
That night it felt so mystical
Yet nothing it did flower
Because the Devil pulled the strings
And the high priest was his tool
And everywhere the Devil went
His world was always cruel.
15 July 2013 @ 1725hrs.
Africa! A land flowing with milk and honey.
Devoured by greed and the love for money
Where corruption thrives and war is a common place
Where will Africa show her true real face?
Africa! The Land of lions and zebras
Where men are hunted down like fishes in rivers
Arise Africa! For your children are suffering
Cursed with a black skin
Does this means I am nothing?
Africa today is like Africa yesterday
Good men like Nkrumah were never allowed to stay
Africa! I shed tears of blood for your children
A thousand years from now
And they still know not their brethren
Africa! A land blessed with so many cultures
Where children are labeled witches
And eaten by vultures
Africa! When will you move at a faster pace?
So that you can take us all to that promised place
Africa! The home of voodoo and magic
Where technology is forgotten
Because nobody wants it
Africa! A land abandoned by youths and scholars
Where farmers leave their hoes in search of collars
Africa! A land of so many opportunities
With fertile soil and rock but still limited possibilities
Africa! A land filled with gold and oil
Where we languish in poverty
Because we do not benefit from the soil
Africa! Where money is stolen from the people by the leaders
Where sadness is read in the newspapers by readers
Black ogres feeding fat on flesh and blood
Human beings desecrated without fear of God
When will Africa show her true real face?
And lift the curse of Ham on the entire black race
Africa! A land that tries to copy democracy
But the only thing that is done is outright hypocrisy
Africa! the key to your redemption is not only violence
But we must bring the evil doers to their knees
Before we sentence them to silence
Bang! Bang! Bang! Machine gun fire none stop
Come on Africa I shall lift your spirit up
Africa! One day the messiah will come
He will rid us off these thieves and the very scum
Then your glory will shine like a big red sun
That is when I say Africa our work is done
The forest of grief:
At night I can hear the pain filled screams coming from the forest of grief. Longing, despair, and terror seeps in from the thick tree line into my bedroom window.
Their inhuman wails send chills down the nap of my neck rendering me unable to move.
“What horrible events accrued inside this desolate place?”
No vegetation, growth, or life exist.
Only the suffering from distant pasts.
Time itself seems to be halted by the walls of the dense forest that shelter its ghostly inhabitants.
“Do they know death?
Do they know of the life they once led or can they even hear their own horror filled cries?
I do, I feel every heart breaking emotion as I lay in wait for dawn to break.”
There is no rest for them or me, the lonely women who tends the forest of grief.
He was lost in white surprise
Of drugs and doctors quips
His mind was filled with flapping sails
Of white that guide the ships
To dance among the white capped rocks
In North white nights of June
Bring in the catch to catch the maid
Who’d be his wife so soon.
Wild hair so white it shamed the sheet
That soft caressed the grass
The grass-plagued daisies held her there
As clouds triumphant passed
In columns white the bossy clouds
Marched brisk across the sky
But none of them could match the spark
Of whiteness in her eye.
And then his shocked brain shifted
Jigged timed across his life
How many white nights had escaped?
The maid now was his wife!
Saw breasts so white that milk they gave
Seemed paltry in contrast--
To feed the babe that snuggled there--
The fruit of love surpassed.
Then shipwreck banged into his head
The white-flashed lightning zing--
He tested feet and moved his legs
Seemed he’d survived this fling
Of nature’s whims again he’d live
to tell the lusty tale
of how north winds had jumped from waves
to grab their ship's main sail.
Before the White Christ
Had emerged from his Semitic genes
The sailors would have cried for Thor
To ease his hammerings.
Sailors lost were prices paid
To live in northern shores.
And, lost at sea was ever feared
By them, and wives adored.
He’d play a trick, they’d think him dead--
Would make a crafty tale!
By his hearth and in his bed
would sound a mourning wail.
His house would be a feast of black
Mad weeping would impress--
Then his imagination called her tears
He vowed each tear to bless
He smirked to think of their surprise
When he stalked through the door--
An unsuccessful leap from bed—
He’d rest a little more.
And being man-- he pondered sex
And pleasures it would bring
There was no sizzling passion like
His lover’s offering.
Needle rudely poked-
Morphia drew him in
To dream the dreams of healing arms
delightful prickles of his skin
He found her far beyond his pain--Oh, that smile that could disarm!
In dreams , with wife, in languid bliss
created white hot charm.
PRE WHIT E STORIC
Winter wild of flurries
In ancient minds
Was a shelter
From white fear
Stayed in packs
Howled their presence
Violence and terror
Only a summer dream
Around fragile human life.
Unto the north country basalt isle
A great fish Maui snared:
And his brothers half-crazed behaving
Leapt and gouged in frenzy craving.
From Palliser Bay to Cape Reinga
(Departing place of the spirits),
From Egmont in the west to Mt Hikurangi
Where dawn's light is first to see
Home where the far north narrows
To the thousand year Kauri:
When whalers from her tall trunks vast
Made well the finest spar and mast.
In those giant limbed canopied pillars
Echo the sounds of the ages:
From coast to coast a native bounty each,
Doubtless Bay to Ninety Mile Beach
The shallow Hokianga Harbour mouth
Of coves and tawny sandhills:
Where navigators of old voyaged erstwhile,
Hauraki Gulf and Great Barrier Isle.
Beech forests whisked by desert winds,
Wilderness and eeling swamps:
The volcanic pumice flats that dormant lie
And rocky molten fountains in the sky
Frontier home to pioneer settlements
And Maori pa palisade posts:
Where the Coromandel twists and bends
Channels long the Firth of Thames.
Down the foamy rapids of Huka Falls,
A maelstrom of turquoise green:
By the smouldering cliffs at their sheerest,
A thermal wonderland silica terrace
On yon trail where the mighty trio rise...
Ruapehu, Tongariro, Ngauruhoe,
With their deep crater lakes and icy snow
Spew ash and rock on plains below.
In Echo Lake cauldron or the Frying Pan,
Venus baths and Champagne Pool:
Rotorua's hot sulphurous breath await
In the muddy springs at Hell's Gate
The forested Urewera Highland wood
On Lake Waikaremoana's shore:
Poverty Bay - where Captain Cook said...
"There behold! Young Nick's Head".
Across the Kaimanawa Mountains west:
Willow, Totara, Poplars, and Pines:
Into Lake Taupo the teeming water feeds
Rainbow trout in the riverbed reeds
North Country isle of myth and legend:
This living, breathing, shifting land.
Where the morning sun has its sky reared
It wakes the great fish Maui snared.
The North Island of New Zealand where
I lived for 25 years. In Maori mythology
Maui raised up the North Island out of the
Sea using the jaw-bone of an ancestor.
Pulling back the sleepy Shawl
Sliding open the glass doors
New Light hits my tired face
And floods across the tiled floor
The room grows with clarity
Gloomy corners lighten
Radiance washes the white walls
My eyes slowly widen
Stretching and yawning
A cold kiss of balcony on bare feet
I step into the fresh glow of morning
Above the scent of trees and sparrow tweet
Waking up over mountains and sea
I stare out to the colours of Cyprus
Towards Aphrodite's baths
And the rich hues of the Akamas
Across this exotic landscape
The sunbeams illuminate all
A cool morning air glides over my skin
And pours into my pores
O mysterious sea...as light
as the eyes of my faithful sweet-heart,
inspire the distant soul
of this poet in distraught...
whose poem is still unfinished;
give him the rhythm and flow
to embellish his heart-felt verse
with sentiment and thoughtfulness!
Beyond the rolling waves,
ships carry secret lovers
who deride and defy their fate
and set their souls on fire...
without feeling a need in dire,
or admitting an awful mistake!
O mysterious sea...
take their ship away
to a shore where nobody will see,
and let their fornication be
as crude as the awakening
of everyone who's not afraid of indulging;
I will take no part or joy
in their pleasure so openly and willingly!
Could I forget that she ever existed, or
ever loved me with trust and sweetness?
Wouldn't it be unforgivable and wrong...
to waste what was blessed by holiness?
In this era of unfaithfulness,
many choose to do harm to someone else...
thinking only of self-gratification,
breaking the vows of dedication!
O mysterious sea as deep as the love
of my changeless woman,
who contemplates every sunset and dawn
with the purity of a dove:
let no beautiful eyes deceive me,
and sadly erase the innocence of her memory!
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away—
I met the person whom I shall love.
It was summer season—in the month of May,
when I found my dearest dove—
my life; my beloved; my prized;
my cherished with no name.
In that land far, far away, surrounded by the seas,
by the name of Puerto Prinsesa,
we tasted the sweet scent of its breeze—
I and my cherished with no name—
as little seraphs of heaven sang in bliss.
Stealing glances, that’s all we had
in that land far, far away;
and also in stealing glances, our tale has ended,
as we witnessed ourselves falling away.
The sun never rises without bringing me trances
of my cherished with no name;
the wind always whistles but I never had the chance
to hear the voice
of my cherished with no name;
and so, my heart desires
of revisiting our land far, far away—
to bring me back to the scenes,
to bring me back to my once upon a time
that my yearning heart once has seen.
Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's Annabel Lee
The heart of Hersonnisos, the Isle of Crete
In a place so full of allure
Up on a hill, in the midst of the sea
Lies the heavenly Kreta Natur
The beautiful gardens, the flowers and trees
Rockeries made from stone
Views that will bring a tear to your eye
All give you the feeling of home
Side by side, Maria and George
Together they work as a team
So many years of labour and love
It’s taken to build their dream
Nurtured and tended by loving hands
Such relaxation you feel
When you arrive, the lovely warm smiles
And welcome they give you is real
Marias cooking, so lovely to taste
Her chicken, the best as of yet
BBQ night prepared by George
Is one you will never forget
But…one thing is true, when your holiday’s done
And you know that its times to fly
Year after year you will always return
So it’s never really goodbye…
For George and Maria...amazing people and the perfect hosts
Sitting in the dark,
Waiting for a spark.
Alone lost on an island,
No one, no familiar hand.
Sorrow sinking in,
Watching the storm begin.
Alone far away
For far longer than a day.
Sitting on the sand,
Observing sea and land.
Alone near the ocean,
Rain the only potion.
Gazing at the moon,
Hoping night may pass soon.
Alone in a place so far,
Home feeling as distant as a star.
Being born in the postwar fifties,
after darkness and catastrophe
ascended on all Europe,
I didn't experience cruelty and horror...
but hope came from the defenders of freedom
from North America and England;
and their military supremacy crushed
Hitler's vanity and his inhumane empire!
I was given birth by a courageous mother,
who saw bombs drop on buildings,
and escaped to the countryside with a few belongings...
dragging grandmother to safety!
Fear was everywhere...people had to hide,
and liberty was a forbidden cry;
even in the Vatican City, and rumors...
if not facts, confirmed that some
were afraid to speak against this evil,
but continued to tremble,
and in doing so they let many die!
Wasn't God angry at their hypocrisy;
and if they had taken a stand against the evildoers...
wouldn't it spared many?
It's my turn to protest the evil
that destroyed the life of big and small
for their faith, religion and race;
those voices are still ignored,
but they are finally heard;
their thirst for peace and justice
will be quickly quenched!
It's my turn to heal their wounds
with sweet and consoling words of kindness,
and alleviate their fears that what happened yesterday...
must not be repeated in our history;
and wil I be able to do this without facing controversy?
It's my turn to use the written word,
to outshine everyone whose interest is greed!
Nobody more than I
was saddened by this tragedy,
so powerful and overwhelming,
to promptly modify the traits of my personality;
to be more considerate and caring,
and partake in Humankind's destiny!
An Aquarius has many
and talents, and I intend to use them wisely...
listening to their struggles
with much sympathy!
It's my turn to use the written word,
to declare war on the state of unfair things,
proceed with caution on flapping winds...
to land where I am welcomed,
and see every hand touching mine;
only when the their joy returns, I can certainly smile!
The yard of my home,
the location of football games.
Eric was a wuss.
If he had the ball, stand in front of him
he’d drop it.
One time running for a pass.
I couldn’t see him
he was near, I could smell the Old Spice he wore.
I heard a sound
I turned around.
I swallowed the spearmint I was sucking.
Eric was on the ground with the ball.
His arm had a lump
he sat out a few plays.
We told him “go home”
let his mom know he was hurt
If he went home, his mom would make him stay.
Eventually, he rejoined the game.
The next day, Eric came over with a cast on his arm.
He had broken it in three places.
Eric the wuss had played football with a broken arm.
He was a man.
No one called Eric a wuss again.
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.
The Battle field is ready for a messy day
Throats will be cut and blood will spray
Great feats will be achieved and a wonderful display
Of armies in mortal struggle, the fray
Giants, Demons, Angles and the like ready their blades
The battle drum beats then they rush the glade.
A master white stair case to heaven is the Demons goal
The General shuts his visor and leads his hoard through
Magic, Death, Music, Strength, and Weakness all happen
Only one makes it through the havoc….
His last sprint up the stair case a final task
At the top he unveils his metal mask
A young mans face with demon horns peers at the gates
In front of him guardians decide his fate
One question is all he has for them and the lord
Can I see my beloved from childhood from before?
The Demon kneels to show no threat before his grace
Then he sees her solemn sad little face
He didn’t move his great muscles as she approached him
Her actions were very simple…she bent over and kissed him
He then turned and walked down to the stair case
Threw his sword and spear then leapt from its base
He very well could have opened his great wings
He completed the only wish he had…. See the King!
Genevieve his angel
A tender child is sleeping in a warm manger
watched by a sweet,happy mother;
joy bells ring in glory,
in the blue Heavens
shines a yellow star!
This night is too cold for the sheperds
watching their sheeps over the hills of Bethlem;
the Angel of the Lord will surprise them:
as they'll tell them,"The King has come!"
That star will lead them,
and they will find the little King...there;
kept warm by the breath of his mother Mary!
Joy bells ring in glory;
the Wise Men are coming from the East,
to bring Him the precious gifts of destiny...
to worship that humble child
sent from a caring God:
to show the hearts of men His love at last!
Great and weak men have existed
Sometimes their memories are bleak
Other times their memories live on
After the passing away of mortals
We only have memories left
Memories of their deeds
And the life they lived
Houses even cry when great men die
Inanimate objects often wear the toga of sadness when great men pass
There houses and places of abode weep too
The place of great men in the afterlife is great
Taking a glance at the wicked
They live wretchedly
And pass away like animals
People rejoice when they have gone
No one misses them
The places where they once lived as homes
Sometimes it becomes the abode of demented people
Their descendants wear long drawn faces
For they immediately start reaping
What their fathers sowed
It is sad
Weeping and wailing is so loud and great in their homes when they pass
For we know there is no peace for the wicked
Saith the Lord
The day is met
The dream lost
windows sleeping cry
A land where heros have died
A bird swin pertch slips away
The sky plundered in air filled sighs
with a road of a blank notion in blaket of devotion
A time I spend here is natalicly splintit
A war to high too see
A night to cold for me
a walk in the clouds
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."
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!
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
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