Lyric History Poems

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

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Details | Lyric |
The words we use become pictures into lives
Pictures from words spread out for all to see
This is what becomes of our poetry
Has the makings of a montage to me
With words we complete many pictures
Pictures then arranged to fit in closeness
And so with our poetry I do believe
We create a montage for all to see

Copyright © Carol Sunshine Brown | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric |
New Deal

Black Tuesday
     October 1929
     Vanishing wealth; stocks decline

Great Dust Bowl
     Windstorms and drought, top soil gone
     Breadbasket empty; nature’s con

     He’s the man, New Deal imposed
     Opportunities renewed; hopes rose

New Deal Reigns
     Work offered by the CCC
     Saves the lost American dream

Recession Echo
     The winter plunge 2009
     Who will save our dreams this time?

Reality Knocks
     Frustration with Congress, current events
     November elections a time to vent

New Deal Needed
     Americans looking for leadership
     Power from sheep about to be stripped

*For Constance, a Rambling Poet’s “Create your own form, maybe?” contest
By Carolyn Devonshire
I work frequently in this form that I choose to call “Headline Couplets.”  It includes a 
headline followed by rhyming couplets that address the concept, person or event in 
the first line of three-line verses.  Probably inspired by my years as a journalist.

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010

Details | Lyric |
I'll bet this set of rusty shears have a story they could tell,
of the loneliness and broken backs in a land that's hot as hell,
where hopes and dreams mirrored lives that these shearers led,
here among the ruins of an outback-shearing shed.

I'll bet this set of rusty shears have a story often told,
in optimistic mirages where water is pure as gold,
and living quarters offered would barely shield the moon
in stifling heat of summer, or bitter cold in June.

All that's left is one wall teasing, the wind to blow it down.
Mustering yards are overgrown; mulga posts lie on the ground.
There's hand-made nails, broken rails, memories that are spread,
here among the ruins of an outback shearing shed.

I feel like I'm intruding out here on the western plains,
standing here in a ghostly wind where it hardly ever rains,
imagining I lived the life that these shearers led,
in the ruins with the ghosts of an outback shearing shed.

All that's left is one wall teasing, the wind to blow it down.
Mustering yards are overgrown; mulga posts lie on the ground.
Oil tins and sharpening stone, broken glass is widely spread
here among the ruins of an outback shearing shed.

I'll bet this set of rusty shears have a story they could tell,
of the loneliness and broken backs in a land that's hot as hell,
where hopes and dreams preceded lives that these shearers led,
here among the ruins of an outback-shearing shed.

Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
Building castles in the air,
Gold and diamonds everywhere;
You were the brightest stars in your own skies

In empty space you built your dreams
Behind  computer screens
You rode in long expensive cars
 Drank in all the trendy bars
As all the while you lied and bet
Against the ones who'd hoped to get
Some small piece of our communal pie;
They bought your homes and with them bought the lie.

     It was all an inside job
     Pulled by a faceless mob
     Of bankers, lawyers and their ilk.
     It was all an inside job
     By a thoughtless, greedy mob
     Of men who rob the poor to sleep on silk.

Smoking candles, fallen flowers
Foreclosed homes and broken hours -
This is the aftermath of what you've done,
Games ill played and  ill begun.

And the rich keep getting richer
Though they've painted us the picture
Of what happenswhen you set the weasels free.
They've no concern for you or me
Or the discrepancies we see;
Should be enough for us that they should always be.
No one's punished ,no one pays,
And they remain, complacent in their ways.

     It was all an inside job
     Staged by the untouched mob
     Of bankers, lawyers and their ilk.
     It was all an inside job
     Perpetrated by the mob
     Of men who rob the poor to sleep on silk.

And now this evil season
Has descended without reason
And the sheep will stand and wait
To receive their unearned fate.

I hope you're proud, you sleep at night
While masses live by candlelight
May your riches find you lone and cold
When you at last are frail and old
And no one mourns your passing days
And none thought loyal will stay
To watch with you all through the coming gloom
That pushes you, now helpless, to your tomb.

Castle building in the air
Gold and diamonds everywhere;
The brightest stars will dim away
Replaced by others, other days.

     And so it goes, the inside job
     Brought off by the blacksuited mob
     The bankers, lawyers and their ilk.
     The framers of the inside job
     That heartless, faithless, grasping mob
     Will one day drown, beneath a sea of silk.

Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric |
Orphaned footsteps round the old place.
Pitch black soil, packed deep with bartered
coin and Indian heads – wood and otherwise,

coat her worn leather shoes, Hutterite chic. 
The long land screams within its own silence.
Prairie sage burns somewhere, a ghostly smudge

for the undulating grass and, those it serves.
Its alive scent makes the dead turn towards 
its head - and the barely living turn to listen. 

The impossibly endless horizon holds its bright 
blue at bay, begging acknowledgement for 
its self-professed being and looming enormity.

She looks at the broken window glass and 
through the tattered, delicate gray lace. “Those 
were hers.” She whispers to the one who listens. 

This great-great-granddaughter sees the curtains 
as they once were – wistful in the hot Manitoba 
wind; fresh and lowing with the honest elemental 

scent of aspens, hope and bare-knuckle wash boards; 
always fresh; shifting in the cry for solace in summer 
shadows – never as still as this moments endlessness.

Blowing through the deep brown of splintered pine 
front doors; cracking the announcement of cast iron, 
rot and burnt wood comes the simple statement of – 

I lived. This mother of five young does not cry, 
just yearns to walk in the old ones footsteps;
to know them loved; hear the birdsong through

unbroken bedroom windows for a 5am waking; 
feel the resistance of dough on fingers that beg 
to be broken, and kiss the twisting undead, living. 

The burning of the noonday sun taps her whole,
marking; branding her pale Swedish skin its own.
The red sting of burnt breaks her inward silence, 

welcoming her familiar face home.

© Kristin Reynolds 3 29 2009

*Reposted for John's Summer Celebration Contest. This is a personal celebration; 
celebrating and honoring my great grandparents who settled in Manitoba after leaving 
Sweden and Denmark. This celebrates the summer of family, at least for me. We went there 
every summer until it was gone...

Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009

Details | Lyric |

Outside The City...

Outside the city where the pomegranates grow
one walks into another world 
from long ago;
a grave of stone and marble... 
monuments that stand
to guard the ghosts 
of ancient souls on broken land.
Now great artistic wonders 
seen in disarray
of columns standing tall, 
but others toppled lay
so scattered on the fields 
on which they proudly stood.
These works of Persian, Greek 
and Roman empires should
in clear view lie 
for all to honor and behold,
the history of centuries 
that here unfold.
Outside, now modern, 
Turkish city of Izmir,
historic Pergamon 
lies bare to see, revere;
another world 
that here existed long ago;
Outside the city where the pomegranates grow.

Sandra M. Haight

~Honorable Mention~ Premiere Contest
Contest: A First Line Prompt
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Judged: 05/03/2016

Izmir is noted for farming and selling pomegranates
Since my visit there twenty years ago,  I hear that many 
of the ruins have been restored.

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric |
I was here I was here First I was here First Take a breath of oxygen Your choking on confidence The lights are on but you cant see Slit wrist Bleed You took my life from me Let us come back You stole the air we breath Let us come back I was here first Choking on oxygen I was here first Choking on oxygen I was here first Choking on oxygen You took my life from me Let us come back You stole the air we breath Let us come back Choking Like Aliens Choking on oxygen
to hear the song search youtube for "Aliens Choking on Oxygen" Heliosonic written by Sara Perle and Omar Masri

Copyright © Omar Masri | Year Posted 2012

Details | Lyric |
They Be The Descendants Of The Confederacy
By Roy Merritt

Way down here in the land of cotton
A great many people are mean and rotten
A great many of them are foul you see
They be descendants of the Confederacy

They love that flag the Stars and Bars
Fly it from their trucks fly it from their cars
Some wear hoods only their eyes you see
They be descendants of the Confederacy

They be fools who feed on hate
They be fools a bunch of stupid ingrates
They be people who vote for poverty  
They be descendants of the Confederacy

They want to go backward fast not slow
They want to go back to days of Jim Crow
They want to hate blacks burning crosses to see 
They be descendants of the Confederacy

They no longer like the Democrats 
Cos’ now they the party of the working class 
Republicans the ones who feed their treachery
They now the party of the Confederacy

They fell for their lies the Republican scam
Thinking these Republicans ever gave damn
Ever gave a damn for their future you see
They be descendants of the Confederacy 
Way down here below the Mason Dixon 
They love our food our Christian tradition
The notion they’re kind full of hospitality
They be descendants of the Confederacy

Way down here in the land of cotton
A great many people are mean and rotten
A great many of them are foul you see
They be the descendants of the Confederacy
The ugly descendants of the Confederacy
The truly ugly descendants of the Confederacy

Copyright © Roy Merritt | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric |
Marching the streets with our flags flying high
Deutschland uber allas was our battle cry
The Youth taught me to be tough and bold
With out hesitation I carried out every order I was told
To defend my Fatherland against Marxism was my desire
No one could extinguish this young Germans fire

A memoir to the nation I served
The ruins of 1945 you did not deserve
A memoir to the nation I fought for
You should have had so much more
A memoir to the nation that now is shamed
Break the chains and shove the blame

I remember the day I first received the bolts
Pride ran through my veins and every waking thought
To fight for fatherland was my greatest honor
I would risk my life as I would become a great soldier
My Panzer division would be one of the very best
We where amongst the very elite, we where the  Waffen SS


We went into hell in the ice cold East
To puncher the heart of the evil red beast
We where going strong as we made it outside the Kremlin
The Russian winter came as our bodies would give in
I saw to my horror comrades in frozen graves of ice
for sake of Fatherland they gave the ultimate sacrifice


in defeat I came back to a broken and shattered nation
women and children cried as they saw the red occupation
I was condemned as I was put on a show trial
The courageous where put in prison in typical Marxist style
Shamed as our people are put down, because they won
Even though now I’m spit upon, I regret nothing I’ve done

Copyright © Robert Lawrence | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
Well, I moved into town to live like a city slicker,
Loaded my truck, found a place, and here I am,
Though a country boy has a head a bit thicker,
City life is not so hard to understand,

And I've been learnin' how to use a computor,
How to do some picture takin' with a cell phone,
How to get insurance for my truck and motor scooter,
But city life is nothing like back home,

Because where I come from, they call it the boonies,
Dirt roads, back woods, life as country as can be,
Though now I'm mixed in with all the town loonies,
They'll never take the country out of me,

Yea, I can still plant me a nice little garden,
Though not nearly as big as it use to be,
And still listen to country music, Dolly Parton,
She's on my coffee mug for all to see,

And I still get to do some dear huntin'
For those split tails runnin' 'round here,
And I make sure to keep my truck tuned and runnin'
By way of Auto Zone, or I'd run out of beer,

Yea, I livin' in the hood, straight from the boonies,
It's great be an American and free,
Though I'm mixed in good with all the town loonies,
They'll never take the country out of me,

Yea, I moved into town to live like a city slicker,
And I'm doin' the best that I can...
I can drive by Churchill Downs and hear the horses nicker,
I'm just a country boy with a city slicker plan,
I can drive by Churchill Downs and hear the horses nicker,
I'm still a country boy, yea, that's who I am,
Though a country boy has a head a bit thicker,
City life is not so hard to understand.

Copyright © Lawrence Ingle | Year Posted 2008

Details | Lyric |
Sons Of Liberty
Samuel Adams was a most wanted man
In pre American tyrannical land
In insane taxes the colonies drown 
They were indentured servants to the crown
The Redcoat aggression showed no remorse
Brotherhood was formed to fight back with force

Hail, hail, the Sons Of Liberty
Hail, hail, revolution without impunity 
Hail, hail, The Sons Of Liberty
Hail, hail show no amiability

Smuggling wine to the secret of the coin
Enmity burned over the Boston massacre
drawn to the resistance, patriots would join
Boston Tea party struck back at the master
Hancock and Revere, they took to the gun
The Sons fought fearlessly at Lexington 


Would secretly meet at the liberty tree
fabric they torn,new nation is born 
They set the stage to the road to be free
fiery inferno, for Hutchinson foe
patriot or terrorist introspective 
hero's who attain  patriotic objective


Copyright © Robert Lawrence | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
In a well guarded place for two hundred and eighteen years
hangs a painting that is rare and revere but so well persevered 

The work is oil on white Lombardy poplar panel
when years ago a candle would show her glow and enigmatic pose

A mysterious smile that will make you sit and stare for awhile
having the most writings and songs about her 
in the Louvre of Paris she is their heiress

No matter her age or where she may hang
over the years at times she has gathered dust

The Mona Lisa is still the worlds most mysterious 
a creation of Da Vinci's innermost piece.

T Reams     5th place

Copyright © TAMMY REAMS | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
May life bless you with real freedom, 
Keep enjoyment as your place, 
May you find your own confidence, 
From your education and your space;
May you entertain discernment,
Whilst fulfilling your desires,
And may platitude be rescinded, 
By real love in your eyes.

May life be all it can be, 
May your realities come from your dreams, 
May your work become your eulogy, 
And may your identity give your memes. 

May you receive more than you give, 
And see reason when there's none,
May your friends light your inside,   
May you give hope to those with one;
May you save the exploited from oppression,
By making despair to you most personal,
And may equality be the standard,
For your repudiation of its dismissal.

May life be all it can be, 
May your realities come from your dreams, 
May your work become your eulogy, 
And may your identity give your memes. 

May you always uphold justice, 
Even in dark and uncertain times,
When faced with honest requests, 
And its unsettled times sometimes; 
May you do what’s right no problem, 
Not questioning the strain, 
Nor grumbling about the consequences, 
Of morality’s devoted love train. 

May life be all it can be, 
May your realities come from your dreams, 
May your work become your eulogy, 
And may your identity give your memes. 

May your diamond be stalwart honour,
For war heroes old and injured,
Tormented by battlefields and sights,
Of the mangled and beleaguered; 
May you testify to fact and truth, 
And publish what you know;
And may reason be your sociology, 
To dictatorial governments overthrow. 

May life be all.... 

May you respect others in esteem, 
For kindness and achievement,
May you follow those you understand, 
As beautiful in accomplishment;
May you undertake endeavours, 
Which ramify the other unstudied, 
By embracing love and laughter, 
As whispers of grace embodied. 

May life be all... 

May you always say what’s inside,
Whilst giving other people a chance,
Trusting them with your memories, 
That history upon which you cannot glance; 
May you always speak your mind, 
To make rationality your guide, 
And in dignity confide and correct, 
To let the delinquent within you abide. 

May life be all... 

May your philosophies be trophied,
As a garland by the lonely,
And may your way be warmly accepted, 
Without negotiation or apology;
May righteousness be your hallmark,
And caring thought your attribution, 
And may you prevail generally as a good person, 
Bringing light where there’s intrusion. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
War is about
forms of revenge
fear and hate
wasted energy
war has been fought 
for centuries
man has been
fighting for things
clinging to things
not realizing
what kind of things 
to cling to
we understand
the need for peace
yet we cannot 
find peace’s path
there’s no war
there would be 
no sadness
heart broken mothers
weeping wives
lost children 
war destroys life
peace embraces 
with each breath 
there is security
without thirst
only fulfillment

Edward J. Ebbs - October 25, 2015

Copyright © Edward Ebbs | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
< Plato liked his full
Ceaser liked his salad
And Molotov had a burning desire for cocktails
And of cause Wellington was upper crust
But who do you think had to pay for all this
Monet of cause
But the face of Helen of Troy looked as if she had

Copyright © Michael Ward | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |
Listen, Listen, Listen -
Open up your eyes and ears
See the starlight, watch it, feel it as it
Glistens, Glistens, Glistens -
Reflecting coldly off the teeth between the gears.

Run, Run, Run -
Come and see what's going down
Watch the people, hear 'em, fear 'em with their
Guns, Guns, Guns -
No time left for us to fool around.

     These things we're doing can't be right
     These deeds done in the dark of night
     We'd better stop and answer the calls
      From the Other Side, stop writing on their walls.

Look, Look, Look -
Read the things we're posting up there
Know the meanings, seek 'em, find 'em in those
Books, Books, Books -
That is, if you really do care.

Getting, Getting, Getting
Ask yourself what you really want
Taste the bitter, weigh it, say it while you're
Fretting, Fretting, Fretting
Over all the things of which you're not so sure.

     These things we're doing can't be right
     These deeds committed in the dark of night
     We'd better stop and answer the calls
     From the Other Side, stop writing on their walls.

     These things we're saying can't be true
     These things we're writing can't be what we want to do
     We'd better stop and listen to the calls
     From the people on the Other Side, and read the writing on the walls.

Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2012

Details | Lyric |
This Land Was Your Land (Cherokee Version of Woody Guthrie's This Land is Your Land)

This land was your land and now it's my land.
From the Georgia mainland to the Oklahoma prairies.
From the Appalachian Mountains to the Mississippi River;
This land was taken from you by me.

As you was walking that trail of tears;
I saw above you the bird of death.
I saw below you those solemn footsteps;
This land was taken from you by me.

You were sick and hungry but forced to walk;
To the dust bowls of the Oklahoma panhandle.
And all around you tears were falling;
This land was taken from you by me.

When the cold winds blew and you was freezing;
And the snow was falling and you had no shoes.
As your mother was weeping a voice was chanting;
This land was taken from you by me.

As you was walking I saw a sign there;
And on the sign it said "No Indians Allowed".
In your defense I didn't say nothing;
This land was taken from you by me.

In the bowels of death I saw your people;
In church pews I saw my own.
As your's stood starving, I simply mumbled;
This land was taken from you by me.

Nobody dead can stop my greed;
As you go dying on that trail of tears.
The dead can own no land;
This land was taken from you by me.

By: Darlene Doll Smith 

Copyright © Darlene Smith | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
If history was food part 2

Copyright © Michael Ward | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |
Viking me, I want to be
warrior culture, decadent vulture
plunder  & pillage, every village
navigate the sea, longboat to be 
clash of steel, organic feel

Viking Me, I want to be
impenetrable shield wall, kingdom fall
Valhalla bound nomads, Victorious death glad
Discovery of Vinland, Vigilance of Norse man
Expedition by Erichson, conquest by Self assertion

Viking me, I want to be
slayer of Saxons, settle in Briton
cognizant of victory, details are gory
bringing cathartic terror,  no maidens fairer
discernment of Odin’s Eye, Viking battle cry

Viking me, I want to be
Winter harvest feast, sacrifice the beast
preserve Heathen blood, The Christian flood
warlike mind, one of a kind
unstoppable force, ultra violent source 

Copyright © Robert Lawrence | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
At one point in my life i was an artist
I used to paint and draw
Covering a piece of paper
In beautiful colors
And my art told a story
The sort of story you couldn't talk about
I used to go to school every day
Showing up late 
Wasn't something I'd do
But i dropped out
Leaving my education behind
I played the bass guitar
In a band called 
The Nocturnal
My fingers ran against that bass
Pure magic
The sound of the gods
Setting out to destroy the world
Pure Punk straight from Seattle
At one point i was clean
Sober and pure like a new born baby
Falling further into 
What you now call 
Screwing up my veins
with every shot of herion
Killing my brain cells
With every joint i smoked
Clogging up my nose 
With every pill you could have known
I used to write lyrics
About my life
My childhood
I used to write journals
The ones you read in the book 
that was published of me
I got up on that stage every night
As i was
Nothing fake
Nothing glamourous
Only a few scars
One shot of heroin
Come as you are
The words only speak for 

Copyright © Orlin Collier | Year Posted 2012

Details | Lyric |
When Europeans first came to America, it seemed to be their role...
To reach out with both hands, for all the goods and lands they stole.

When our nation was founded by men of vision...
They spoke out, their king showed them nothing but derision.

The colonization by troops and taxes imposed were so unfair...
Liberty from him was declared, fought for, and taken from there.

The thefts of that king were small by any means...
To the way we have treated our fellow Americans.

We continued to take the Indians' lands...
Never thinking twice, of the blood on our hands.

We greeted the black man with whip and chains...
Can we ever remove the ghosts of their pains?

Yes, we drenched our land red with blood to set them free...
But prejudice remains, even after more than a century.

We have helped set so many peoples free with our aid in war...
Have we forgotten at home, just what was fought for?

"Ours is the greatest country" we tend to shout...
Yet, the Ugly American still lurks about.

The world watches us with wonder and awe...
Many hate or envy us, because of our human nature's flaw.

Many cast for hope, but reel in despair...
The things we do to others, we must do with better care.

The Greatest Generation the world will ever know...
Is slowly dying, their life's light passing out, as darkening embers go.

If our nation should have learned anything...
It must be that millions suffer to have Freedom's Ring.

Our understanding and compassion will go a long way...
To let them see, the "Ugly American's " face, as not so ugly one day.

Copyright © Daniel Cwiak | Year Posted 2010

Details | Lyric |
From out of dark of Africa
and from the central plain
beyond the Nile, in just a while
black gold, and all its gain

lay shackled in the morning sun,
humanitie's great sin,
they wait in tears for what seems years
for whaleboats rowing in.

Financing by the usurers,
who'd make a pot of gold,
each trip to Africa was blessed,
by those who'd not have blessing told.

Once on the beach, the boats are filled
and slavery steers the coarse
out to the ship that makes the trip
and filled with black's remorse.

The teaching to their heathen minds
sets in before the sail
is barely set so they can get
the Word before they fail.

the Word that Jesus died for them
so now they must rejoice
and sing His song their lifetime long
His way's their only choice.

The sail is pushed across the sea
and changed, their native speech,
through heat and rain and hurricane,
then hope is in their reach;

when one bright morn "land ho's" proclaimed
they fall down to their knee
to spread His fame, and praise His name
who Saved them from the sea!

And when the anchor's heaved away
to hold the ship in place;
off from the shore they've been bound for;
forgiven's their disgrace

and all the old ways ever known
are laid into the past
replaced on ships by snapping whips
before the captain's mast!

    And so they're sold before they're old,
     mere beasts of burden, black and cold,
       while Jesus saves them, every one,
         .......if they do what they are told.
                       © Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
                             aka Ron Wilson

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric |
The past is another land,
not conjoined to future time,
but in memory or in books

People disagree with its interpretation,
for who's to say,
if, when

Dates are key to the historian,
and us too, in our memory of dusty rooms
in school

I see it now, the teacher's rushing hand with chalk
on board
telling us key dates

The boys were more interested in cricket scores,
and wistfully looked out of dusty rooms
at fields, now gone, in slender mists

Copyright © Julia Ward | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
Save Me
By: IzaDonna

Look in the mirror
Do you recognize her
Do you see the coldness in her eyes
Do you see where the darkness lies
Hidden secrets of the past
To late, the spells been cast
And as the stars arise
My own self will be my demise

So you think you can save me
Finally set my retched soul free
Be my ultimate savior
You thinking ur doing me a favor
But just let me alone
My fate is only my own

I get u try and u care
But thru it all u weren't there
I cant move on from my past
The agony I feel will always last
The knife is in way to deep
So let me shut my eyes and sleep
Cause u can't fix whats already broken
The pain I feel is better left unspoken


So as the darkness creeps in
I feel I'm paying for my sins
No way to escape
My soul is yours to take
Just let me bleed these tears
Just let me lay here
Looking up at the sky
I ask God why


Cause you can't fix what isn't broken
The pain is better left unspoken

Copyright © Jamie Yost | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |
I fast boy, this aint no foot race
What you playing?
What, you think you got a game ginni in your game pack
Well, I paint Black
And stain them in Pain on rare occasions
Occassionaly coming up in death throes
Dead body is my stomping ground on this beat
My melody be blasting bastards, knocking em backwards
the Force of theses 5 Felonies be unappropriate behaviors
And if you ever seen me in, 
Well, when you seem me you'll be very quiet
And if you thought it was adequate
my accurrecy so precise you can't phantom the damn damage
You know Im real skilled, and the satisfaction of it leaves me upset still
It was Mercy from God for me to carry this pain cause it suits me like it is a deep love
If Seashell's is ever in Hell then I'll be busting a knucklehead if he wants to act a badass
This aint a brag, no we never come in a boast boy,in my conduct I be, I promise you honorable,I standup as I stand for a higher standard
and when i get mad i act bad, When im in a heavy conflict
jaxattacks are my chosen tactics,
And nowhere in my eyes does she see me ever being a leader or getting the best of a ***** when she on my badside
My Blood cleansed that land, I faced the devil slanging quarters and halves in every which direction like my creation changed due to evolution thru the fact that i was moving too ****ing fast man, But i grew out of it like I went from panic to romantic attacks
From the battles with the devil and demons and nets set , and tribulations and Mania and Im still maniac, Still A disciple of Ninjitsu, my senses still keen, iM SINGLE till i get my possessions back, the love in my heart concealed, its so hard to hide my love I feel so many sharp p[ains,Love Felt feel these steel bars they are a million you would have to go thru to hope to find one, a connection u never dectected the quality of,im 10 times 99topics liike im a balla up talking in manner never heard of, be the bang that yo body been starving for, rt

Copyright © Timothy Jacks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |
On that day we were all the same, we didn't know there faces, we didn't know 
there names.
There voices we heard crying all around the world, someones loving father, 
someones little girl.
On that day we were called to lead a better life, for that someones father, for that 
someones wife.
The list of souls read from above before it came below why it was and why it is the 
answer no one knows.
Through the pain we have learned lessons great and small, life, love, and happiness 
are precious cherish them all.
With grace we all go on, but never will we forget that all of these beautiful things 
can fade so very quick.
On that day we wondered, on that day we cryed, on that day we asked ourselves 
what kind of man am I?
Mothers held there children for so long and oh so tight, why did these people have 
to go this was not there fight.
We hope and pray for all those names, and the ones they left behind they gave 
their life for a question the answer we must find.

William J. Harty

Copyright © bill harty | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric |
The paths we take under the eye of god
and universe, but some consider odd
Great Love of Jesus, knowing everything,
help us to grow, into a birth of spring,
and know from where our lonely feet have trod.

In Celtic roots, from shores of Normandy
we came from long ago, a time called history,
made weary from the Roman and his sword
in seeking vengance, as if they were lord,
and Ireland is where we chose to be.

They layed to waste all things we'd ever known
spared not one child with their hearts of stone
and Caesar put us out to where we choose to be
in Ireland, an emerald upon the sea,
to where, great mother, only you had known.

The wicca way, so deep out of our past
now comes of age, as if a spell were cast
to love all things, and have you at my side,
the only place that two in love can hide,
here in the only dream to ever last.

You'll be as much a part of me
as anything in life could ever be,
and we shall honor all and everything,
each to it's own, that destiny might bring,
and everything in life we'll ever see.

Forget my past, remember just my way
of loving you both every night and every day
you'll have it all, if you can visualize,
that all you want is right before our eyes,
and Love of Jesus put it here to stay.
              © ron wilson aka Ron Arbuthnot
aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
Cro mag non man was a birth of a  nation
Crete led the way for civilized creation
The Etruscans became the first Mediterranean power
Indo Europeans Settled Europe as others cower
The Aryans in India established a civilization
The Nile valley would be dominated by Egyptians

We've once again taken history’s place
To show  again we are the face
Our past is forbidden , the truth is hidden
We've once again taken history’s place

300 Spartans showed what there courage could do
Alexander The Greats strength was unmatched by few
Rome led 1000 years of prosperity before the decline
The Visigoths chased the Huns back over the European line
7 crusades led by a Christians  to stem Islam
Ferdinand and Isabella condemned the Moorish harm


Everyone feared the fury of the pagan vikings of the north
Napoleon Bonaparte would bring military genius forth
The British empire would colonize every land
William Wallace bravely fought for the freedom of Scotland
The Teutonic knights helped spread across Europe Christianity
The 30 years of Christian wars brought nothing but insanity


Expansion of discovery could never be touched
The United states would rise and the British would be crushed
The south would rebel for liberty and freedom
The British would slice the throat of the Ottoman kingdom
The first brothers war was thought to be the final stand
The Afrikaners fought relentless for the right of there land


The Bolshevik revolution brought a new plague into the world
The Germans brought a new hope as the banners were unfurled
All of Europe would unite under the waffen for it's  European identity
The Marxist hippie  movement brought moral  hygiene to it's knees
Now it's the today and we have to keeping fighting for a new tomorrow
We must secure  our destiny and keep having our  history grow


Copyright © Robert Lawrence | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
“F Bomb”
By Nate Spears

I got the heart of a man name Malcolm
The visions of Martin Luther
The tongue of Emmett Till
The brains of Medgar Evers

Can I get a window seat
Away from defeat
Can I get park for the kids to play
Next to the spot
Where Rosa refused her seat

Langston in my pen
Proud, young, and free
Handsome and intelligent
The government targets me
In a second
My history is a blessing
The court system in racist
Society shows the traces.

Copyright © Nate Spears | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |
Come lie down.
Beside me 
there’s no other.
Push my firm words
inside your head, 
my hard love,
‘cause tough love 
crack tough skull.
You’re revolving on the rim.
come down to me, 
a stream of knowledge.

A woman was here.
Inside my head
I hold books.
She went with bungalow 
and children.
Children are children; 
like monkeys they mimic 
Her every step painted in vivid green.
come lie down.
Beside me my story is. 
The truth 
is never a tale 
spilled from sweetened lips. 

come down here, 
come lie down.
Beside me 
there is none 
that can whisper this chronicle, 
my chocolate story – 
bitter-brown  – 
composed with blood and feather pen.
Sculpted in her head is 
her post-colonial self.
Come taste of the wine I’m poured.
Come, come,
come lie with me.

Copyright © Earle Brown | Year Posted 2011