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Take only what you need and leave the land as you found it.

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What Shall I Do For the Land that Bred Me

What shall I do for the land that bred me,
Her homes and fields that folded and fed me?—
Be under her banner and live for her honour:
Under her banner I’ll live for her honour.
CHORUS. Under her banner live for her honour.

Not the pleasure, the pay, the plunder,
But country and flag, the flag I am under—
There is the shilling that finds me willing
To follow a banner and fight for honour.
CH. We follow her banner, we fight for her honour.

Call me England’s fame’s fond lover,
Her fame to keep, her fame to recover.
Spend me or end me what God shall send me,
But under her banner I live for her honour.
CH. Under her banner we march for her honour.

Where is the field I must play the man on?
O welcome there their steel or cannon.
Immortal beauty is death with duty,
If under her banner I fall for her honour.
CH. Under her banner we fall for her honour.

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The City Streets

A CITY of Palaces! Yes, that's true: a city of palaces built for trade;
Look down this street—what a splendid view of the temples where fabulous gains are made.
Just glance at the wealth of a single pile, the marble pillars, the miles of glass,
The carving and cornice in gaudy style, the massive show of the polished brass;
And think of the acres of inner floors, where the wealth of the world is spread for sale;
Why, the treasures inclosed by those ponderous doors are richer than ever a fairy tale.
Pass on the next, it is still the same, another Aladdin the scene repeats;
The silks are unrolled and the jewels flame for leagues and leagues of the city streets!

Now turn away from the teeming town, and pass to the homes of the merchant kings,
Wide squares where the stately porches frown, where the flowers are bright and the fountain sings;
Look up at the lights in that brilliant room, with its chandelier of a hundred flames!
See the carpeted street where the ladies come whose husbands have millions or famous names;
For whom are the jewels and silks, behold: on those exquisite bosoms and throats they burn;
Art challenges Nature in color and gold and the gracious presence of every turn.
So the winters fly past in a joyous rout, and the summers bring marvelous cool retreats;
These are civilized wonders we're finding out as we walk through the beautiful city streets.

A City of Palaces!—Hush! not quite: a, city where palaces are, is best;
No need to speak of what's out of sight: let us take what is pleasant, and leave the rest:
The men of the city who travel and write, whose fame and credit are known abroad,
The people who, move in the ranks polite, the cultured women whom all applaud.
It is true, there are only ten thousand here, but the other half million are vulgar clod;
And a soul well-bred is eternally dear—it counts so much more on the books of God.
The others have use in their place, no doubt; but why speak of a class one never meets?
They are gloomy things to be talked about, those common lives of the city streets.

Well, then, if you will, let us look at both: let us weigh the pleasure against the pain,
The gentleman's smile with the bar-room oath, the luminous square with the tenement lane.
Look round you now; 'tis another sphere, of thin-clad women and grimy men;
There are over ten thousand huddled here, where a hundred would live of our upper ten.
Take care of that child: here, look at her face, a baby who carries a baby brother;
They are early helpers in this poor plane, and the infant must often nurse the mother.

Come up those stairs where the little ones went: five flights they groped and climbed in the dark;
There are dozens of homes on the steep ascent, and homes that are filled with children—hark!
Did you hear that laugh, with its manly tones, and the joyous ring of the baby voice?
'Tis the father who gathers his little ones, the nurse and her brother, and all rejoice.
Yes, human nature is much the same when you come to the heart and count its beats;
The workman is proud of his home's dear name as the richest man on the city streets.

God pity them all! God pity the worst! for the worst are reckless, and need it most:
When we trace the causes why lives are curst with the criminal taint, let no man boast:
The race is not run with an equal chance: the poor man's son carries double weight;
Who have not, are tempted; inheritance is a blight or a blessing of man's estate.
No matter that poor men sometimes sweep the prize from the sons of the millionaire:
What is good to win must be good to keep, else the virtue dies on the topmost stair;

When the winners can keep their golden prize, still darker the day of the laboring poor:
The strong and the selfish are sure to rise, while the simple and generous die obscure.
And these are the virtues and social gifts by which Progress and Property rank over Man!
Look there, O woe! where a lost soul drifts on the stream where such virtues overran:

Stand close—let her pass! from a tenement room and a reeking workshop graduate:
If a man were to break the iron loom or the press she tended, he knows his fate;
But her life may be broken, she stands alone, her poverty stings, and her guideless feet,
Not long since kissed as a father's own, are dragged in the mire of the pitiless street.

Come back to the light, for my brain goes wrong when I see the sorrows that can't be cured.
If this is all righteous, then why prolong the pain for a thing that must be endured?
We can never have palaces built without slaves, nor luxuries served without ill-paid toil;
Society flourishes only on graves, the moral graves in the lowly soil.

The earth was not made for its people: that cry has been hounded down as a social crime;
The meaning of life is to barter and buy; and the strongest and shrewdest are masters of time.
God made the million to serve the few, and their questions of right are vain conceits;
To have one sweet home that is safe and true, ten garrets must reek in the darkened streets.
'Tis Civilization, so they say, and it cannot be changed for the weakness of men.
Take care! take care! 'tis a desperate way to goad the wolf to the end of his den.
Take heed of your Civilization, ye, on your pyramids built of quivering hearts;
There are stages, like Paris in '93, where the commonest men play most terrible parts.
Your statutes may crush but they cannot kill the patient sense of a natural right;
It may slowly move, but the People's will, like the ocean o'er Holland, is always in sight.

'It is not our fault!' say the rich ones. No; 'tis the fault of a system old and strong;
But men are the makers of systems: so, the cure will come if we own the wrong.
It will come in peace if the man-right lead; it will sweep in storm if it be denied:
The law to bring justice is always decreed; and on every hand are the warnings cried.
Take heed of your Progress! Its feet have trod on the souls it slew with its own pollutions;
Submission is good; but the order of God may flame the torch of the revolutions!
Beware with your Classes! Men are men, and a cry in the night is a fearful teacher;
When it reaches the hearts of the masses, then they need but a sword for a judge and preacher.
Take heed, for your Juggernaut pushes hard: God holds the doom that its day completes;
It will dawn like a fire when the track is barred by a barricade in the city streets.

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What You Lack (draft)

It's funny how what you need
becomes only what you want
funny how it crawls around
in attempts to redefine its insides,
to the extent that its a stranger within itself
a portrayal of a little boy lacking every ounce
of existence required to be a man.

Its audastic nature yells to its new agenda
everything it used to say to you
You've heard all of that before
the bits and pieces of pathalogical lyrics
that used to make your song
elementary words with no music behind them
lies that pacified you but now
they're meant for someone else.

It's so dissapointing how many people there are
without an ounce of realism within their souls.

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The Greedy Dog

Once upon a time, a dog
Barked away in his bog
Hunting away for food was he
As he was really hungry

One day, he found a bone
Surely, it stopped his moan
Then, he went to cross
A bridge to go across

Crossing the bridge, he looked down
It was a dog, what he found
He was looking at his own reflection
And wanted another collection

There was a bone in the pond
Of what the dog was fond
Looking down, he was greedy
He barked away, became needy

There was no bone down there
The dog was unable to bear
He had nothing left, but sorrow
Alas! What about morrow?

He had not any solution
Hence, we get the conclusion
The dog could be happy with just one
Ultimately, he had left none

Take only what you need
Instead of having any greed
Be satisfied with your possession
That is my suggestion

So don't be like the dog,
Who barked away in his bog

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A Rush & A Push & The Land Is Ours

Oh hello
I am the ghost of troubled joe
Hung by his pretty white neck
Some eighteen months ago
I travelled to a mystical time zone
And I missed my bed
And I soon came home
They said :
Theres too much caffeine
In your bloodstream
And a lack of real spice
In your life
I said :
Leave me alone
Because Im alright, dad
Surprised to still
Be on my own...
Oh, but dont mention love
Id hate the strain of the pain again
A rush and a push and the land that
We stand on is ours
It has been before
So it shall be again
And people who are uglier than you and i
They take what they need, and just leave
Oh, but dont mention love
Id hate the pain of the strain all over again
A rush and a push and the land that
We stand on is ours
It has been before
So why cant it be now ?
And people who are weaker than you or i
They take what they want from life
Oh, but dont mention love
No - no, dont mention love !
A rush and a push and the land that
We stand on is ours
Your youth may be gone
But youre still a young man
So phone me, phone me, phone me
So phone me, phone me, phone me
Oh, I think Im in love
Oh, I think Im in love
Oh, I think Im in love (think Im in love)
Urrgh, I think Im in lerv
Oh ...

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Take what you need and leave our land the way you found it.

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And let the oil flow cheaply!

Heads of state or government of 25 nations met in Belgrade, capital of Yugoslavia at the first Summit of Non-Aligned Nations on 1st September 1961. Sri Lanka was a founder of the Non-Aligned Movement which consisted mainly of developing countries that preferred to stay away from any power blocks. These nations were not aligned to any superpower – either USA (America) or USSR (Russia) .Sri Lanka’s newly elected Prime Minister, Sirimavo Bandaranaike attended the inaugural Summit, stepping on to the world stage as the world’s first woman Prime Minister. She attended the second Summit held in Cairo in 1964 and in 1976 hosted the fifth Summit in Colombo. Thereafter Sri Lanka occupied the chair for three years.The origin of the movement dates back to 1954, when the Prime Minister of India, Shri Jawaharlal Nehru had coined the term “non-alignment” during his speech at the Asian Prime Ministers Conference in Colombo. In this speech, Nehru described the five pillars to be used as a guide for Sino-Indian relations. Called ‘Panchaseela’ (five restraints) , these principles would later serve as the basis of the Non-Aligned Movement.The five principles were: Mutual respect for each other’s territorial integrity and sovereigntyMutual non-aggression
Mutual non-interference in domestic affairsEquality and mutual benefit
Peaceful co-existence

I hear a sad Bedouin song of an aging Dictator
Who sung with his deep voice for a long period!
Yes, let others to sing and get rid of the power.
Bring the lute and leave the wealth.
Like your younger days remember
You touched the Sri Lankan soil once
As Omar Mukthar the Hero!
At the 5th Non-Alignment Summit, Colombo, Sri Lanka in 1976.
We're old now and leave aside the burden
Watch how they sing with the different pitch?
Companion Camel too old now
And no more desert crossing
Stop at an Oasis!
Take the lute out and sing the oldest song;
'Where we've come from
And where do we go? '
And let the oil flow cheaply!

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The Noble Moringer

I.
O, will you hear a knightly tale of old Bohemian day,
It was the noble Moringer in wedlock bed he lay;
He halsed and kiss'd his dearest dame, that was as sweet as May,
And said, 'Now, lady of my heart, attend the words I say.

II.
''Tis I have vow'd a pilgrimage unto a distant shrine,
And I must seek Saint Thomas-land, and leave the land that's mine;
Here shalt thou dwell the while in state, so thou wilt pledge thy fay,
That thou for my return wilt wait seven twelvemonths and a day.'

III.
Then out and spoke that Lady bright, sore troubled in her cheer,
'Now tell me true, thou noble knight, what order takest thou here:
And who shall lead thy vassal band, and hold thy lordly sway,
And be thy lady's guardian true when thou art far away?'

IV.
Out spoke the noble Moringer, 'Of that have thou no care,
There's many a valiant gentleman of me holds living fair;
The trustiest shall rule my land, my vassals and my state,
And be a guardian tried and true to thee, my lovely mate.

V.
'As Christian-man, I needs must keep the vow which I have plight,
When I am far in foreign land, remember thy true knight;
And cease, my dearest dame, to grieve, for vain were sorrow now,
But grant thy Moringer his leave, since God hath heard his vow.'

VI.
It was the noble Moringer from bed he made him boune,
And met him there his Chamberlain, with ewer and with gown:
He flung the mantle on his back, 'twas furr'd with miniver,
He dipp'd his hand in water cold, and bathed his forehead fair.

VII.
'Now hear,' he said, 'Sir Chamberlain, true vassal art thou mine,
And such the trust that I repose in that proved worth of thine,
For seven years shalt thou rule my towers, and lead my vassal train,
And pledge thee for my Lady's faith till I return again.'

VIII.
The Chamberlain was blunt and true, and sturdily said he,
'Abide, my lord, and rule your own, and take this rede from me;
That woman's faith's a brittle trust - Seven twelve-months didst thou say?
I'll pledge me for no lady's truth beyond the seventh fair day.'

IX.
The noble Baron turn'd him round, his heart was full of care,
His gallant Esquire stood him nigh, he was Marstetten's heir,
To whom he spoke right anxiously, 'Thou trusty squire to me,
Wilt thou receive this weighty trust when I am o'er the sea?

X.
'To watch and ward my castle strong, and to protect my land,
And to the hunting or the host to lead my vassal band;
And pledge thee for my Lady's faith till seven long years are gone,
And guard her as Our Lady dear was guarded by Saint John.'

XI.
Marstetten's heir was kind and true, but fiery, hot, and young,
And readily he answer made with too presumptuous tongue;
'My noble lord, cast care away, and on your journey wend,
And trust this charge to me until your pilgrimage have end.

XII.
'Rely upon my plighted faith, which shall be truly tried,
To guard your lands, and ward your towers, and with your vassals ride;
And for your lovely Lady's faith, so virtuous and so dear,
I'll gage my head it knows no change, be absent thirty year.'

XIII.
The noble Moringer took cheer when thus he heard him speak,
And doubt forsook his troubled brow, and sorrow left his cheek;
A long adieu he bids to all - hoists topsails, and away,
And wanders in Saint Thomas-land seven twelve-months and a day.

XIV.
It was the noble Moringer within an orchard slept,
When on the Baron's slumbering sense a boding vision crept;
And whisper'd in his ear a voice, ''Tis time, Sir Knight, to wake,
Thy lady and thy heritage another master take.

XV.
'Thy tower another banner knows, thy steeds another rein,
And stoop them to another's will thy gallant vassal train;
And she, the Lady of thy love, so faithful once and fair,
This night within thy fathers' hall she weds Marstetten's heir.'

XVI.
It is the noble Moringer starts up and tears his beard,
'Oh would that I had ne'er been born! what tidings have I heard!
To lose my lordship and my lands the less would be my care,
But, God! that e'er a squire untrue should wed my Lady fair.

XVII.
'O good Saint Thomas, hear,' he pray'd, 'my patron Saint art thou,
A traitor robs me of my land even while I pay my vow!
My wife he brings to infamy that was so pure of name,
And I am far in foreign land, and must endure the shame.'

XVIII.
It was the good Saint Thomas, then, who heard his pilgrim's prayer,
And sent a sleep so deep and dead that it o'erpower'd his care;
He waked in fair Bohemian land outstretch'd beside a rill,
High on the right a castle stood, low on the left a mill.

XIX.
The Moringer he started up as one from spell unbound,
And dizzy with surprise and joy gazed wildly all around;
'I know my fathers' ancient towers, the mill, the stream I know,
Now blessed be my patron Saint who cheer'd his pilgrim's woe!'

XX.
He leant upon his pilgrim staff, and to the mill he drew,
So alter'd was his goodly form that none their master knew;
The Baron to the miller said, 'Good friend, for charity,
Tell a poor palmer in your land what tidings may there be?'

XXI.
The miller answered him again, 'He knew of little news,
Save that the Lady of the land did a new bridegroom choose;
Her husband died in distant land, such is the constant word,
His death sits heavy on our souls, he was a worthy Lord.

XXII.
'Of him I held the little mill which wins we living free,
God rest the Baron in his grave, he still was kind to me!
And when Saint Martin's tide comes round, and millers take their toll,
The priest that prays for Moringer shall have both cope and stole.'

XXIII.
It was the noble Moringer to climb the hill began,
And stood before the bolted gate a woe and weary man;
'Now help me, every saint in heaven that can compassion take,
To gain the entrance of my hall this woeful match to break.'

XXIV.
His very knock it sounded sad, his call was sad and slow,
For heart and head, and voice and hand, were heavy all with woe;
And to the warder thus he spoke; 'Friend, to thy Lady say,
A pilgrim from Saint Thomas-land craves harbour for a day.

XXV.
'I've wander'd many a weary step, my strength is wellnigh done,
And if she turn me from her gate I'll see no morrow's sun;
I pray, for sweet Saint Thomas' sake, a pilgrim's bed and dole,
And for the sake of Moringer's, her once-beloved husband's soul.'

XXVI.
It was the stalwart warder then he came his dame before,
'A pilgrim, worn and travel-toil'd, stands at the castle-door;
And prays, for sweet Saint Thomas' sake, for harbour and for dole,
And for the sake of Moringer, thy noble husband's soul.'

XXVII.
The Lady's gentle heart was moved, 'Do up the gate,' she said,
'And bid the wanderer welcome be to banquet and to bed;
And since he names my husband's name, so that he lists to stay,
These towers shall be his harbourage a twelvemonth and a day.'

XXVIII.
It was the stalwart warder then undid the portal broad,
It was the noble Moringer that o'er the threshold strode;
'And have thou thanks, kind heaven,' he said, 'though from a man of sin,
That the true lord stands here once more his castle gate within.'

XXIX.
Then up the halls paced Moringer, his step was sad and slow;
It sat full heavy on his heart, none seem'd their Lord to know;
He sat him on a lowly bench, oppress'd with woe and wrong,
Short space he sat, but ne'er to him seem'd little space so long.

XXX.
Now spent was day, and feasting o'er, and come was evening hour,
The time was nigh when new-made brides retire to nuptial bower;
'Our castle's wont,' a brides-man said, 'hath been both firm and long,
No guest to harbour in our halls till he shall chant a song.'

XXXI.
Then spoke the youthful bridegroom there as he sat by the bride,
'My merry minstrel folk,' quoth he, 'lay shalm and harp aside;
Our pilgrim guest must sing a lay, the castle's rule to hold,
And well his guerdon will I pay with garment and with gold.'-

XXXII.
'Chill flows the lay of frozen age,' 'twas thus the pilgrim sung,
'Nor golden meed nor garment gay, unlocks his heavy tongue;
Once did I sit, thou bridegroom gay, at board as rich as thine,
And by my side as fair a bride with all her charms was mine.

XXXIII.
'But time traced furrows on my face, and I grew silver-hair'd,
For locks of brown, and cheeks of youth, she left this brow and beard;
One rich, but now a palmer poor, I tread life's latest stage,
And mingle with your bridal mirth the lay of frozen age.'

XXXIV.
It was the noble Lady there this woful lay that hears,
And for the aged pilgrim's grief her eye was dimm'd with tears;
She bade her gallant cupbearer a golden beaker take,
And bear it to the palmer poor to quaff it for her sake.

XXXV.
It was the noble Moringer that dropp'd amid the wine
A bridal ring of burning gold so costly and so fine:
Now listen, gentles, to my song, it tells you but the sooth,
'Twas with that very ring of gold he pledged his bridal truth.

XXXVI.
Then to the cupbearer he said, 'Do me one kindly deed,
And should my better days return, full rich shall be thy meed;
Bear back the golden cup again to yonder bride so gay,
And crave her of her courtesy to pledge the palmer grey.'

XXXVII.
The cupbearer was courtly bred, nor was the boon denied,
The golden cup he took again, and bore it to the bride;
'Lady,' he said, 'your reverend guest sends this, and bids me pray,
That, in thy noble courtesy, thou pledge the palmer grey.'

XXXVIII.
The ring hath caught the Lady's eye, she views it close and near,
Then might you hear her shriek aloud, 'The Moringer is here!'
Then might you see her start from seat, while tears in torrents fell,
But whether 'twas for joy or woe, the ladies best can tell.

XXXIX.
But loud she utter'd thanks to Heaven, and every saintly power,
That had return'd the Moringer before the midnight hour;
And loud she utter'd vow on vow, that never was there bride,
That had like her preserved her troth, or been so sorely tried.

XL.
'Yes, here I claim the praise,' she said, 'to constant matrons due,
Who keep the troth that they have plight, so steadfastly and true;
For count the term howe'er you will, so that you count aright,
Seven twelve-months and a day are out when bells toll twelve to-night.'

XLI.
It was Marstetten then rose up, his falchion there he drew,
He kneel'd before the Moringer, and down his weapon threw;
'My oath and knightly faith are broke,' these were the words he said,
'Then take, my liege, thy vassal's sword, and take thy vassal's head.'

XLII.
The noble Moringer he smiled, and then aloud did say,
'He gathers wisdom that hath roam'd seven twelve-months and a day;
My daughter now hath fifteen years, fame speaks her sweet and fair,
I give her for the bride you lose, and name her for my heir.

XLIII.
'The young bridegroom hath youthful bride, the old bridegroom the old,
Whose faith was kept till term and tide so punctually were told;
But blessings on the warder kind that oped my castle gate,
For had I come at morrow tide, I came a day too late.'

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Really! Is That What You Want?

Maybe it is best,
I will never come to understand...
What pleases others.
And yet the same action done,
Will make some upset.

Sometimes one's intentions,
To project a comprehension...
With an empathy attached.
Will offend some who then prepare,
To defend themselves in a boxing match.

And there are times when one desires,
To have no contact at all with others.
As some may find this an attractive challenge,
No matter what disgusting thing is said...
From a mouth spewing indignities,
With a hope what is done sends them off to another!

'You have wishes to be tamed!
Don't you? '
Who knew you would meet your...domesticator.'

~Excuse me?
I am wanting you to buzz off.~

'Really!
Is that what you want?
Deep in the crevices of your mind?
Or...
Are you secretly wishing to redecorate my hive? '

No!
But IF I had a fly-swatter,
You would get the message!
Immediately.
Believe me.

'Oh.
I see.
So you are into spankings? '

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What is new and just born

What is new and just born
The one, which just began ageing and moving towards death

What is dead and gone
The one, which just began reshaping

What is telling a truth
The presentation of such facts and in such a manner
With universal welfare in mind

What is lying
The presentation of such facts and in such a manner
Leading to global disharmony

What is beautiful
The one, which enlightens the artful intelligence

What is ugly and obscene
The one, which aims at triggering sensual indulgence

What is a joy
It is the sorrow just denuded

What is sorrow
It is the joy just denuded

What is love
It is that emotion which feeds
The spiritual thirst of the another

What is hate
It is that emotion
That cremates the very self

Who is bold
The one, who stands upright for
Self-evolved values
Despite being threatened
Physically and emotionally

Who is a coward
The one, who has no
Self-evolved values
And bows down to
Physical and emotional challenges

Who is learned
The one, who makes use of
Whatever his/her intelligence has acquired
And adds values to the knowledge
Refining the same for common good

Who is unlearned
The one, who just remembers
What all his/her intelligence has acquired
And makes use of the knowledge
Only for self elevation

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The Love That I Found Defined In Me

The love that I found defined in me.
Reduced all the fantasies,
I kept deceived.
When I saw you,
That moment I knew...
Mixed reactions disappeared.
I felt a deepness clearing and near,
Flowing to bestow...
Upon me.

The love that I found defined in me.
Removed all desires to be free.
You held the key,
To unlock that need in me...
That kept my secret beliefs,
No one could be there to release..
This in me.

The love that I found defined in me.
Needed no one else to complete.
You had the magic.
Fantastic,
Indeed!
And in me...
What it was you had,
Fixed a piece of mystery...
That teased!
And freed a gladness.

The love that I found defined in me.
Reduced all the fantasies,
I kept deceived.
When I saw you,
That moment I knew...
Mixed reactions disappeared.
I felt a deepness clearing and near.
To forever be here with me,
To grow.
And know together love!

The love that I found defined in me.
Needed no one else to complete.
You had the magic.
Fantastic,
Indeed!
And in me...
What it was you had,
Fixed a piece of mystery...
That rid from me the sadness.

And you held the key,
To unlock that need in me!

The love that I found defined in me.
Reduced all the fantasies,
I kept deceived.
When I saw you,
That moment I knew...
Mixed reactions disappeared.
I felt a deepness clearing and near.
To forever be here with me,
Growing to know this love!

Growing to show...
We know,
This is love!

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Blues For Barack - Work Song

The glinty-eyed Roman faces in suits
that stand behind you
are all white, like the papers you sign.

the patrons at the bar in Birdland
would shout work work
when Lester lept into a solo.

I remember why he drank himself
to death
in a small room at the Alvin. Do you?

There are nameless voices that cry out
from the Chattahoochee
Brickyard in Atlanta. Mr Backlash Mr Backlash

sweat & blood stolen like money
transmigrating generations
James W. English, First National Bank,

Coca Cola, Wachovia Securities
work work
god bless the child that got his...

the abandoned graveyard of Tennesse Coal
Iron & Railroad
has been bulldozed

There never were any markers anyway
US Steel owns
the mine now but no memory

of the 30,000 black forced laborers
who died there
what compensation? Work work

there is a woman sitting in a tenament
wondering what
to feed her child today. work work

there is a man sleeping on a piece
of cardboard
over an open grate

there is a crack whore turning tricks
a boy 'shamed
to go to school without shoes.

today we hear that there will be
no financing
of contraceptives. Work work

there are those who speak
of love
without reading history

Pope Nicolas V started the slave trade
to convert the
'Moors, heathens, & other enemies of Christ'

What if i don't want your love?
show respect? ? ! !
Mr Backlash. Mr Backlash

The old ones said do what you will
& harm none
The native peoples advised

take only what you need
& give thanks
when the christians spoke

the light went out of those eyes.
there were black
overseers back in the slave days too

work work

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A Careless Man Scorning And Describing The Subtle Usage Of Women Toward Their Lovers

WRAPT in my careless cloak, as I walk to and fro,
I see how love can shew what force there reigneth in his bow :
And how he shooteth eke a hardy heart to wound ;
And where he glanceth by again, that little hurt is found.
For seldom is it seen he woundeth hearts alike ;
The one may rage, when t' other's love is often far to seek.
All this I see, with more ; and wonder thinketh me
How he can strike the one so sore, and leave the other free.
I see that wounded wight that suff'reth all this wrong,
How he is fed with yeas and nays, and liveth all too long.
In silence though I keep such secrets to myself,
Yet do I see how she sometime doth yield a look by stealth,
As though it seem'd ; ' I wis, I will not lose thee so: '
When in her heart so sweet a thought did never truly grow.
Then say I thus : ' Alas ! that man is far from bliss,
That doth receive for his relief none other gain but this.'
And she that feeds him so, I feel and find it plain,
Is but to glory in her power, that over such can reign.
Nor are such graces spent, but when she thinks that he,
A wearied man, is fully bent such fancies to let flee.
Then to retain him still, she wrasteth new her grace,
And smileth, lo ! as though she would forthwith the
man embrace.
But when the proof is made, to try such looks withal,
He findeth then the place all void, and freighted full of gall.
Lord ! what abuse is this ; who can such women praise ?
That for their glory do devise to use such crafty ways.
I that among the rest do sit and mark the row,
Find that in her is greater craft, than is in twenty mo' :
Whose tender years, alas ! with wiles so well are sped,
What will she do when hoary hairs are powder'd in her head ?

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Leave The Lights On

Feeling kind of bony
On the telephoney
Talking to marconi
Eating rice-a-roni
Nominated for a tony
For acting like a phoney
Watching twilight zoney
On my forty-two inch sony
This is just a long song
It aint no poem
Leave the lights on till your baby gets home
Its like sitting in the kitchen
When the musics really bitchin
Your nose it starts to itchin
As you count your old age pension
Did I forget to mention
The ride that I was hitchin
To the aluminum convention
I had such good intention
Keep your cotton pickin fingers off
My song poem
And leave the lights on till your baby gets home
Leave the lights on till your baby gets home
Leave the lights on till your baby gets home
Dont forget your toothbrush
Your hairbrush and your comb
Leave the lights on till your baby gets home
Got a big ol dog
A chrome crowbar
I keep that mother humper in the back seat of my car
Me and billy shakespeare
Stepped out to get a root beer
We sat together so near
People thought we were queer
Punctuated by the big scare
We joined the air force right there
To defend our country first class
Who couldnt give a rats ass
Dont you tell me that the white house is my home
Leave the lights on till your baby gets home
Leave the lights on till your baby gets home
Leave the lights on till your baby gets home
Dont forget your toothbrush
Your hairbrush and your comb
Leave the lights on till your baby gets home
Got a big ol dog
A big iron bar
I keep that mother humper in the back seat of my car
Its like kissing greta garbo with a mouth full of marbles
Like trying to cash a paycheck in the middle of a train wreck
Leave the lights on
Leave the lights on
Like trying to get aroundo in a carmade of bondo
Like speaking german lingo to a dog named dingo - plotz!!
Leave the lights on
Leave the lights on
Like a french fried quesadilla
In a franchised pizzeria
Leave the lights on
Leave the lights on
A big iron bar
I keep that mother humper in the back seat of my car.

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20,000 Patients

Realize,
Foremost,
With 20,000 patients!
But accountability is what we need;
And like the investigative act of your muse in the land of trouble,
But you still need the research of my academic studies to help all these patients.

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Light Years Away

Don't inflame my passion with hate,
For a child is born today and a star is among us;
Do't inflame my mind with war!
For the keynotes of care and the vibes of love is what i need;
And with the praise of my muse and of joy! !
But a proxy from my wisdom is like a like time on the choice of your love.
'Wa ba-a gye wani'! !
For a child is born today and a star is among us;
And like the huc of an orient world,
But with light years away to the complimentary!
For you need to be very tough in this world to be able to survive! !

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Carmen Sylva

The Stone-Cutter

We hammer, hammer, hammer on and on,
Day-out, day-in, throughout the year,
In blazing heat and tempests drear;
God's house we slowly heavenward rear--
We'll never see it done!

We hammer, hammer, hammer, might and main.
The sun torments, the rain drops prick,
Our eyes grow blind with dust so thick;
Our name is dust, too, fadeth quick--
No glory and no gain!

We hammer, hammer, hammer ever on.
O blessed God on Heaven's throne,
Dost thou take care of every stone
And leave the toiling poor alone,
Whom no one looks upon?

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William Blake

The Land of Dreams

Awake awake my little Boy
Thou wast thy Mothers only joy
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep
Awake thy Father does thee keep

O what Land is the Land of Dreams
What are its Mountains and what are its Streams
O Father I saw my Mother there
Among the Lillies by waters fair

Among the Lambs clothed in white
She walkd with her Thomas in sweet delight
I wept for joy like a dove I mourn
O when shall I again return

Dear Child I also by pleasant Streams
Have wanderd all Night in the Land of Dreams
But tho calm and warm the Waters wide
I could not get to the other side

Father O Father what do we here
In this Land of unbelief and fear
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the Morning Star

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Guardians Of The Breath

They were guardians of the breath
Trusted with those precious chances
Keeping gaia from the fear of death
Balances must be defended
To take only what they must
(borrowed from the future)
Live in lovers of a global home
(our children will remember)
Guardians slept while comfort came
The vapours poison, the acid rain fell
The spirit cut from earthly bounds
The creature stirred the pain
How much abuse can she take
(awake from your dreamtime)
The lines are drawn our justice awaits
(will the guardians surrender)
The forest bare, a desert born
The life pushed out
They sold her cheaply
All for a shilling for next weeks treat
A marvel that had taken ten thousand years
To take only what they must
(borrowed from the future)
Live in lovers of a global home
(our children will remember)
They are guardians of the breath
Trusted with those precious chances
They are guardians of the breath
Balances must be defended

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And So She Decided To Make Her Own Sail And Leave

frail woman colored pale
by her own loneliness
people chide her as the
daughter of dullness and
how one day she finally gets
fed up, she gathers some
wood and palms and cloth
and decides to make a boat
and leave the place of her
birth and loneliness

she will be taking the
rough seas and look for
and island of arms and
hands to hug her and make
her feel happy these coming
years and the coming days

one day the radio brought
the news of a woman slain
by a monster who lives in
the sea
how her flesh were torn
how her bones were cut
into indistinguisable pieces

it is so sad but she will have
no regrets: i told her about
the strength of routine
i warned her about far
distances
i told her about sea monsters
i hinted her that there are no
arms and hands in the islands

but she did not believe me
she was fed-up and she took the risk
i guess she is brave
but people think she was never wise
and she was too hardheaded

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