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You can see the source of a river, but not that of a clan.

Bayansi proverbs
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The Lady of the Lake: Canto II. - The Island

I.
At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing,
'T is morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay,
All Nature's children feel the matin spring
Of life reviving, with reviving day;
And while yon little bark glides down the bay,
Wafting the stranger on his way again,
Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray,
And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain,
Mixed with the sounding harp, O white-haired Allan-bane!

II.
Song.

'Not faster yonder rowers' might
Flings from their oars the spray,
Not faster yonder rippling bright,
That tracks the shallop's course in light,
Melts in the lake away,
Than men from memory erase
The benefits of former days;
Then, stranger, go! good speed the while,
Nor think again of the lonely isle.

'High place to thee in royal court,
High place in battled line,
Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport!
Where beauty sees the brave resort,
The honored meed be thine!
True be thy sword, thy friend sincere,
Thy lady constant, kind, and dear,
And lost in love's and friendship's smile
Be memory of the lonely isle!

III.
Song Continued.

'But if beneath yon southern sky
A plaided stranger roam,
Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh,
And sunken cheek and heavy eye,
Pine for his Highland home;
Then, warrior, then be thine to show
The care that soothes a wanderer's woe;
Remember then thy hap erewhile,
A stranger in the lonely isle.

'Or if on life's uncertain main
Mishap shall mar thy sail;
If faithful, wise, and brave in vain,

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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Iliad: Book 21

Now when they came to the ford of the full-flowing river Xanthus,
begotten of immortal Jove, Achilles cut their forces in two: one
half he chased over the plain towards the city by the same way that
the Achaeans had taken when flying panic-stricken on the preceding day
with Hector in full triumph; this way did they fly pell-mell, and Juno
sent down a thick mist in front of them to stay them. The other half
were hemmed in by the deep silver-eddying stream, and fell into it
with a great uproar. The waters resounded, and the banks rang again,
as they swam hither and thither with loud cries amid the whirling
eddies. As locusts flying to a river before the blast of a grass fire-
the flame comes on and on till at last it overtakes them and they
huddle into the water- even so was the eddying stream of Xanthus
filled with the uproar of men and horses, all struggling in
confusion before Achilles.
Forthwith the hero left his spear upon the bank, leaning it
against a tamarisk bush, and plunged into the river like a god,
armed with his sword only. Fell was his purpose as he hewed the
Trojans down on every side. Their dying groans rose hideous as the
sword smote them, and the river ran red with blood. As when fish fly
scared before a huge dolphin, and fill every nook and corner of some
fair haven- for he is sure to eat all he can catch- even so did the
Trojans cower under the banks of the mighty river, and when
Achilles' arms grew weary with killing them, he drew twelve youths
alive out of the water, to sacrifice in revenge for Patroclus son of
Menoetius. He drew them out like dazed fawns, bound their hands behind
them with the girdles of their own shirts, and gave them over to his
men to take back to the ships. Then he sprang into the river,
thirsting for still further blood.
There he found Lycaon, son of Priam seed of Dardanus, as he was
escaping out of the water; he it was whom he had once taken prisoner
when he was in his father's vineyard, having set upon him by night, as
he was cutting young shoots from a wild fig-tree to make the wicker
sides of a chariot. Achilles then caught him to his sorrow unawares,
and sent him by sea to Lemnos, where the son of Jason bought him.
But a guest-friend, Eetion of Imbros, freed him with a great sum,
and sent him to Arisbe, whence he had escaped and returned to his
father's house. He had spent eleven days happily with his friends
after he had come from Lemnos, but on the twelfth heaven again
delivered him into the hands of Achilles, who was to send him to the
house of Hades sorely against his will. He was unarmed when Achilles
caught sight of him, and had neither helmet nor shield; nor yet had he
any spear, for he had thrown all his armour from him on to the bank,
and was sweating with his struggles to get out of the river, so that
his strength was now failing him.
Then Achilles said to himself in his surprise, "What marvel do I see
here? If this man can come back alive after having been sold over into
Lemnos, I shall have the Trojans also whom I have slain rising from
the world below. Could not even the waters of the grey sea imprison
him, as they do many another whether he will or no? This time let
him taste my spear, that I may know for certain whether mother earth

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poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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Message From The Source

[c.gee] yo keith that trip was kinda long
[keith] word up ced
Excuse me, aren't you guys ultramagnetic?
[c.gee] word, whassup money?
Yo i just saw that spaceship over there
[c.gee] hahahahaha
Let me ask you somethin
[c.gee] yeah
How much money did you make this year?
[c.gee] yo that's kinda personal money
[kool keith]
You wanna know my business? i got things to do
People to meet, people to see
Very important - matters to turn to
A waste of time for me to try to burn you
And talk a minute, you're not worth a conversation
I speak intelligently, with information
Goin and flowin and showin, you're still growin
Adolescent -- with a childish mind
Your brain is small, plus it's hard to find
I need a microscope, to see a two-cent brain
That don't think, when they rob and steal
And rape and kill -- and murder their loved ones
Now put your brain in the guillotine
Slice up the cold cuts, you're goin nuts in a three-inch cell
You wanna low rate me?
You're better off in hell, feel the flame
Fire burn roast and toast
Let me heat up your skull, while i brag and boast
I keep your brain on stand-by
Cause this message, comin from the source!
Source.. source.. source.. source..
Source.. source.. source.. source..
[ced gee]
Your attention please, come on and let me try this
This beat is funky -- so i just
Made up some rhymes that are hyper than hyperspace
Ced gee will kick bass face and eliminate
Rappers who think quick slick with a few tricks
Can't be quick fixed if they try this
Man, and, aiyyo, i have the right to be
On any stage and mic someone can pass to me
Cause, i'm in there, and i swear
I'm like vladimir, no one best to
Step to me, get to me, or pes-ter me
Confess to me, be guessin me
Adressin me, be less than me, or testin me
Because, it only brings out the best in me
So, yo, here's what we really need to do
Instead of battlin we need to really improve

[...] Read more

song performed by Ultramagnetic Mc's
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The Lady of the Lake: Canto IV. - The Prophecy

I.
The rose is fairest when 't is budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew
And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.
O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears,
I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave,
Emblem of hope and love through future years!'
Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave,
What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave.

II.
Such fond conceit, half said, half sung,
Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue.
All while he stripped the wild-rose spray,
His axe and bow beside him lay,
For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood
A wakeful sentinel he stood.
Hark!-on the rock a footstep rung,
And instant to his arms he sprung.
'Stand, or thou diest!-What, Malise?-soon
Art thou returned from Braes of Doune.
By thy keen step and glance I know,
Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe.'-
For while the Fiery Cross tried on,
On distant scout had Malise gone.-
'Where sleeps the Chief?' the henchman said.
'Apart, in yonder misty glade;
To his lone couch I'll be your guide.'-
Then called a slumberer by his side,
And stirred him with his slackened bow,-
'Up, up, Glentarkin! rouse thee, ho!
We seek the Chieftain; on the track
Keep eagle watch till I come back.'

III.
Together up the pass they sped:
'What of the foeman?' Norman said.-
'Varying reports from near and far;
This certain,-that a band of war
Has for two days been ready boune,
At prompt command to march from Doune;
King James the while, with princely powers,
Holds revelry in Stirling towers.
Soon will this dark and gathering cloud
Speak on our glens in thunder loud.
Inured to bide such bitter bout,
The warrior's plaid may bear it out;
But, Norman, how wilt thou provide
A shelter for thy bonny bride?''-

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Salut Au Monde

O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman!
Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!
Such join'd unended links, each hook'd to the next!
Each answering all--each sharing the earth with all.

What widens within you, Walt Whitman?
What waves and soils exuding?
What climes? what persons and lands are here?
Who are the infants? some playing, some slumbering?
Who are the girls? who are the married women?
Who are the groups of old men going slowly with their arms about each
other's necks?
What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these?
What are the mountains call'd that rise so high in the mists?
What myriads of dwellings are they, fill'd with dwellers?

Within me latitude widens, longitude lengthens;
Asia, Africa, Europe, are to the east--America is provided for in the
west;
Banding the bulge of the earth winds the hot equator,
Curiously north and south turn the axis-ends;
Within me is the longest day--the sun wheels in slanting rings--it
does not set for months;
Stretch'd in due time within me the midnight sun just rises above the
horizon, and sinks again;
Within me zones, seas, cataracts, plants, volcanoes, groups,
Malaysia, Polynesia, and the great West Indian islands.

What do you hear, Walt Whitman?

I hear the workman singing, and the farmer's wife singing;
I hear in the distance the sounds of children, and of animals early
in the day;
I hear quick rifle-cracks from the riflemen of East Tennessee and
Kentucky, hunting on hills;
I hear emulous shouts of Australians, pursuing the wild horse;
I hear the Spanish dance, with castanets, in the chestnut shade, to
the rebeck and guitar;
I hear continual echoes from the Thames;
I hear fierce French liberty songs;
I hear of the Italian boat-sculler the musical recitative of old
poems;
I hear the Virginia plantation-chorus of negroes, of a harvest night,
in the glare of pine-knots;
I hear the strong baritone of the 'long-shore-men of Mannahatta;
I hear the stevedores unlading the cargoes, and singing;
I hear the screams of the water-fowl of solitary north-west lakes;
I hear the rustling pattering of locusts, as they strike the grain
and grass with the showers of their terrible clouds;
I hear the Coptic refrain, toward sundown, pensively falling on the

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poem by Walt Whitman
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Beautiful River

And he showed me a pure River of Water of Life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the Throne of God and of the Lamb." -- Rev. xxii. 1

Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?

CHORUS.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

On the margin of the river,
Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
All the happy, golden day.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

On the bosom of the river,
Where the Saviour-king we own,
We shall meet, and sorrow never
'Neath the glory of the throne. Cho.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

Ere we reach the shining river,
Lay we every burden down;
Grace our spirits will deliver,
And provide a robe and crown. Cho.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

At the smiling of the river,
Rippling with the Saviour's face,
Saints, whom death will never sever,
Lift their songs of saving grace. Cho.

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poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)

Introduction

In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.

Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.

Prologue

The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain

mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact

that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals

becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,

who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight

in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.

Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God

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poem by Gert Strydom
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Peter Bell, A Tale

PROLOGUE

There's something in a flying horse,
There's something in a huge balloon;
But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little Boat,
Shaped like the crescent-moon.

And now I 'have' a little Boat,
In shape a very crescent-moon
Fast through the clouds my boat can sail;
But if perchance your faith should fail,
Look up--and you shall see me soon!

The woods, my Friends, are round you roaring,
Rocking and roaring like a sea;
The noise of danger's in your ears,
And ye have all a thousand fears
Both for my little Boat and me!

Meanwhile untroubled I admire
The pointed horns of my canoe;
And, did not pity touch my breast,
To see how ye are all distrest,
Till my ribs ached, I'd laugh at you!

Away we go, my Boat and I--
Frail man ne'er sate in such another;
Whether among the winds we strive,
Or deep into the clouds we dive,
Each is contented with the other.

Away we go--and what care we
For treasons, tumults, and for wars?
We are as calm in our delight
As is the crescent-moon so bright
Among the scattered stars.

Up goes my Boat among the stars
Through many a breathless field of light,
Through many a long blue field of ether,
Leaving ten thousand stars beneath her:
Up goes my little Boat so bright!

The Crab, the Scorpion, and the Bull--
We pry among them all; have shot
High o'er the red-haired race of Mars,
Covered from top to toe with scars;
Such company I like it not!

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poem by William Wordsworth
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The Libelle of Englyshe Polycye

Here beginneth the Prologe of the processe of the Libelle of Englyshe polycye, exhortynge alle Englande to kepe the see enviroun and namelye the narowe see, shewynge whate profete commeth thereof and also whate worshype and salvacione to Englande and to alle Englyshe menne.

The trewe processe of Englysh polycye
Of utterwarde to kepe thys regne in rest
Of oure England, that no man may denye
Ner say of soth but it is one the best,
Is thys, as who seith, south, north, est and west
Cheryshe marchandyse, kepe thamyralte,
That we bee maysteres of the narowe see.

For Sigesmonde the grete Emperoure,
Whyche yet regneth, whan he was in this londe
Wyth kynge Herry the vte, prince of honoure,
Here moche glorye, as hym thought, he founde,
A myghty londe, whyche hadde take on honde
To werre in Fraunce and make mortalite,
And ever well kept rounde aboute the see.

And to the kynge thus he seyde, 'My brothere',
Whan he perceyved too townes, Calys and Dovere,
'Of alle youre townes to chese of one and other
To kepe the see and sone for to come overe,
To werre oughtwardes and youre regne to recovere,
Kepe these too townes sure to youre mageste
As youre tweyne eyne to kepe the narowe see'.

For if this see be kepte in tyme of werre,
Who cane here passe withought daunger and woo?
Who may eschape, who may myschef dyfferre?
What marchaundy may forby be agoo?
For nedes hem muste take truse every foo,
Flaundres and Spayne and othere, trust to me,
Or ellis hyndered alle for thys narowe see.

Therfore I caste me by a lytell wrytinge
To shewe att eye thys conclusione,
For concyens and for myne acquytynge
Ayenst God, and ageyne abusyon
And cowardyse and to oure enmyes confusione;
For iiij. thynges oure noble sheueth to me,
Kyng, shype and swerde and pouer of the see.

Where bene oure shippes, where bene oure swerdes become?
Owre enmyes bid for the shippe sette a shepe.
Allas, oure reule halteth, hit is benome.

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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Ford O' Kabul River

Kabul town's by Kabul river --
Blow the bugle, draw the sword --
There I lef' my mate for ever,
Wet an' drippin' by the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
There's the river up and brimmin', an' there's 'arf a squadron swimmin'
'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.

Kabul town's a blasted place --
Blow the bugle, draw the sword --
'Strewth I sha'n't forget 'is face
Wet an' drippin' by the ford!
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
Keep the crossing-stakes beside you, an' they will surely guide you
'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.

Kabul town is sun and dust --
Blow the bugle, draw the sword --
I'd ha' sooner drownded fust
'Stead of 'im beside the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
You can 'ear the 'orses threshin', you can 'ear the men a-splashin',
'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.

Kabul town was ours to take --
Blow the bugle, draw the sword --
I'd ha' left it for 'is sake --
'Im that left me by the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
It's none so bloomin' dry there; ain't you never comin' nigh there,
'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark?

Kabul town'll go to hell --
Blow the bugle, draw the sword --
'Fore I see him 'live an' well --
'Im the best beside the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
Gawd 'elp 'em if they blunder, for their boots'll pull 'em under,
By the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.

Turn your 'orse from Kabul town --
Blow the bugle, draw the sword --
'Im an' 'arf my troop is down,
Down an' drownded by the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,

[...] Read more

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Electric Eel Song

Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Take out you’ foot
From the black river water
Haul out you’ hand
Out the slow river water
Stay ‘pon the bank
Of the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!

Electric eel
Is the eel in the river
Shadow ‘pon the bottom
Is the eel in the river
Something like you’ hand
Is the eel in the river
Swimming like you’ foot
Is the eel in the river

Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Foot after foot
Though the black river water
She can’t touch the bottom
Out the slow river water
Shirt like umbrella
In the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!

Electric eel
Is the eel in the river
Cutlass shape
Is the eel in the river
Black blade or brown
Is the eel in the river
Dozing so quiet
Is the eel in the river

Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Slap of a tail
Through the black river water
Shiver like ague
Out the slow river water
As if she take cramp
Of the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!

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poem by Slade Hopkinson
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto V.

I.
On fair Loch-Ranza stream'd the early day,
Thin wreaths of cottage-smoke are upward curl'd
From the lone hamlet, which her inland bay
And circling mountains sever from the world.
And there the fisherman his sail unfurl'd,
The goat-herd drove his kids to steep Ben-Ghoil,
Before the hut the dame her spindle twirl'd,
Courting the sunbeam as she plied her toil, -
For, wake where'er he may, Man wakes to care and coil.

But other duties call'd each convent maid,
Roused by the summons of the moss-grown bell;
Sung were the matins, and the mass was said,
And every sister sought her separate cell,
Such was the rule, her rosary to tell.
And Isabel has knelt in lonely prayer;
The sunbeam, through the narrow lattice, fell
Upon the snowy neck and long dark hair,
As stoop'd her gentle head in meek devotion there.

II.
She raised her eyes, that duty done,
When glanced upon the pavement-stone,
Gemm'd and enchased, a golden ring,
Bound to a scroll with silken string,
With few brief words inscribed to tell,
'This for the Lady Isabel.'
Within, the writing farther bore,-
''Twas with this ring his plight he swore,
With this his promise I restore;
To her who can the heart command,
Well may I yield the plighted hand.
And O! for better fortune born,
Grudge not a passing sigh to mourn
Her who was Edith once of Lorn!'
One single flash of glad surprise
Just glanced from Isabel's dark eyes,
But vanish'd in the blush of shame,
That, as its penance, instant came.
'O thought unworthy of my race!
Selfish, ungenerous, mean, and base,
A moment's throb of joy to own,
That rose upon her hopes o'erthrown!-
Thou pledge of vows too well believed,
Of man ingrate and maid deceived,
Think not thy lustre here shall gain
Another heart to hope in vain!
For thou shalt rest, thou tempting gaud,
Where worldly thoughts are overawed,

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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Sacrifice storypoem

She wore a robe so white and thin
that it enhanced her nakedness.
Made of the silk which spiders spin
Epitome of gracefulness

Her hair as black as ebony,
contrasting with her rose gold skin.
Which unrestrained was flowing free
She glowed as though she had within,

her slender form of flesh and blood.
A light that would illuminate
the darkness of the world and would
without a doubt propitiate.

The Gods demanding sacrifice.
According to the High Priests rede,
only a virgin would suffice.
To satisfy his dark Gods need.

The clan believed his rede was true
And so she went quite willingly.
To pay the God What he was due
ad so ensure fertility.

of flocks and crops, increase their yield.
Improve the clan’s prosperity
In truth the High Priests rede concealed
his innate taste for cruelty.

She lay upon the altar stone
and showed no slightest sign of fear.
The high Priest bared his blade of bone
and then although the sky was clear.

A bolt of lightning from the blue
struck down the priest as he deserved.
The Goddess had decided to
insist her rules should be observed.

The maiden lived and she became
in course of time the high priestess.
She governed in the goddess’ name
Rewarded for her faithfulness.

The wicked high priest had to die
because he had led the clan astray.
A truth that no one can deny.
The high priestess would lead the way.

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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You Dont Pull No Punches But You Dont Push The River

(da da da....)
When you were a child, you were a tomboy
Gimme soul satisfaction
Way back in shady lane
Do you remember darlin?
And its the woman in you, and its the woman in you
Gimme soul satisfaction
And it takes the child in you to know
The woman an you are one
Were goin out in the country to get down to the real soul,
I mean the real soul, people,
Were goin out in the country, get down to the real soul
Were gettin out to the west coast
Shining our light into the days of bloomin wonder
Goin as much with the river as not, as not, yeah, yeah
An Im goin as much with the river as not
Yeah, yeah, right, yeah
Blake and the eternals oh standin with the sisters of mercy
Looking for the veedon fleece, yeah
William blake and the eternals oh standin with the sisters of mercy
Looking for the veedon fleece, yeah
You dont pull no punches, but you dont push the river
You dont pull no punches, and you dont push the river
You dont pull no punches, and you dont push the river, no, no
Goin as much with the river as not
Were goin out in the west, down to the cathedrals
Were goin out in the west (alright), down to the beaches
And the sisters of mercy, behind the sun
Oh behind the sun
And william blake and the sisters of mercy looking for the veedon fleece,
Yeah
You dont pull no punches, goin west, goin as much with the river as not
With the river as not, with the river as not, goin as much,
Goin as much with the river as not, no, ah
You dont pull no punches, and you dont push the river, no
You dont pull no punches, but you dont push the river, no
You dont pull no punches, but you dont push the river, no
You dont pull no punches, but you dont push the river
And we was contemplating baba, william blake and the eternals
Goin down to the sisters of mercy
Looking for the veedon fleece
Looking for the veedon fleece
Looking for the veedon fleece
Looking for the veedon fleece
You dont pull no punches, but ya, you dont push the river
You dont pull no punches, but ya, you dont push the river, no
You dont pull no punches, but ya, you dont push the river
You dont push the river, you dont push the river

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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River

(orbison/dees)
Roly-oly on now, river
Roly-oly on your way
Roly-oly on now river
Wash my cares away
River so wide and so deep
Wake the sandman from his sleep
River remind him
He has a promise to keep
Roll on, mighty river
Running wild and free
Get along now, river
Bring a dream to me
Hey now, river
Go down, river
Dont slow down, river
Bring a dream for me
Roly-oly on now, river
Roly-oly on your way
Roly-oly on now river
Take my troubles away
Robin hood river, roll on
Go steal a dream from the dawn
River, youll find me
Where all the dreamers have gone
Roll on, mighty river
Running wild and free
Get along now, river
And bring a dream to me
Hey now, river
Go down, river
Dont slow down, river
Bring that dream for me

song performed by Roy Orbison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Where The River Flows

Music : rudolf schenker
Lyrics: klaus meine
Under suburban skies
Where life is bleeding
Where concrete skies are grey
Theres plenty of room for dreaming
I still keep coming here
Follow those traces
I travel back in time
Remember all those places
Feels like I never left
The houses still standing
Down by the river where
The dreams are never ending
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Under the silent moon
This industrial city
Is heartland even though
Lifes been not that pretty
I still keep coming here
To that old river
To find my roots just where
The future lives forever
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me, you can find me
By the river where dreams will never die
By the river under suburban skies
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
By the river where dreams have never died
By the river I look through childrens eyes
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows

[...] Read more

song performed by Scorpions
Added by Lucian Velea
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The River of Blood

It’s the river of blood
Initiated by the enemies of God
And when advised too or told to stop
They just give you the nod
The nod of ignorance and cruelty
The nod of no life and no feel
As they are told about they’re evilness
They believe that none of it is real
It’s the river of blood
That flows down a dark and red stream
And as I dip my hand in, it feels like sour, bitter cream
It’s the river of blood
The river of cruelty and pain
The river of blood
The river that flows in vain
The river that will never end
The river full of the dead
The river where they remain silently hopeless
The river where the majority of them bled
It’s this river of blood where I inject my power and strength from
It’s this river full of blood where my victory will soon come
The river of blood, the river that will soon contain me
It’s this river where my blood has long sought to be
The river of blood that shall soon end with an atrocious fight
The river of blood, the river that will no longer stay at sight.

poem by Marria Attar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Oh Jordan River Lord Say Lay My Burdens On Thee

Oh Jordan River Lord Say Lay My Burdens On Thee

Oh Jordan River down yonder where the
Black sea sings,
Oh Jordan River, cry loud with me
Oh Jordan River the blood in my hand
Oh Jordan River, the black sea sings

Oh Jordan River, lord come for me
Oh Jordan River lord say I be free
Oh Jordan River, lord protect me
Negroes at the river wanna be free

Oh Jordan river put chains on me
Oh Jordan river take my baby from me
Oh Jordan river lord waits for me
Going to break the chains
Down yonder by the black sea

Oh Jordan river I sing to thee
Oh Jordan River the master say
Nigger’s got to serve them
But lord say I free
Oh Jordan River, I'm bound to lord savior,
walking in the black river,
Oh Jordan River saves me.
I‘sa a free mind train
I set me free
Oh Jordan River
Lord say I Free

poem by Jacqueline Amos
Added by Poetry Lover
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Koening Of The River

Koening knew now there was no one on the river.
Entering its brown mouth choking with lilies
and curtained with midges, Koenig poled the shallop
past the abandoned ferry and the ferry piles
coated with coal dust. Staying aboard, he saw, up
in a thick meadow, a sand-colored mule,
untethered, with no harness, and no signs
of habitation round the ruined factory wheel
locked hard in rust, and through whose spokes the vines
of wild yam leaves leant from overweight;
the wild bananas in the yellowish sunlight
were dugged like aching cows with unmilked fruit.
This was the last of the productive mines.
Only the vegetation here looked right.
A crab of pain scuttled shooting up his foot
and fastened on his neck, at the brain's root.
He felt his reason curling back like parchment
in this fierce torpor. Well, he no longer taxed
and tired what was left of his memory;
he should thank heaven he had escaped the sea,
and anyway, he had demanded to be sent
here with the others - why get this river vexed
with his complaints? Koenig wanted to sing,
suddenly, if only to keep the river company -
this was a river, and Koenig, his name meant King.
They had all caught the missionary fever:
they were prepared to expiate the sins
os savages, to tame them as he would tame this river
subtly, as it flowed, accepting its bends;
he had seen how other missionaries met their ends -
swinging in the wind, like a dead clapper when
a bell is broken, if that sky was a bell -
for treating savages as if they were men,
and frightening them with talk of Heaven and Hell.
But I have forgotten our journey's origins,
mused Koenig, and our purpose. He knew it was noble,
based on some phrase, forgotten, from the Bible,
but he felt bodiless, like a man stumbling from
the pages of a novel, not a forest,
written a hundred years ago. He stroked his uniform,
clogged with the hooked burrs that had tried
to pull him, like the other drowning hands whom
his panic abandoned. The others had died,
like real men, by death. I, Koenig, am a ghost,
ghost-king of rivers. Well, even ghosts must rest.
If he knew he was lost he was not lost.
It was when you pretended that you were a fool.
He banked and leaned tiredly on the pole.
If I'm a character called Koenig, then I
shall dominate my future like a fiction

[...] Read more

poem by Derek Walcott
Added by Poetry Lover
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The River Must Flow

(the river must flow)
I love you, youre the one that I adore
And no man could love you more
Its like a river that flows to the sea
I need you like the jasmine needs the rain
Let your water cool my pain
Just like a river that flows to the sea
Thru love I will find the meaning of you
All my natral dreams will come true
Its like a river that flows to the sea
Thru love I will find a meaning in life
But the rain must fall down tonight
And like a river that flows to the sea
Oh yeah, the river must flow from me
(the river must flow)
From me
(the river must flow)
Youre a falling star burning in my heart
Ah,ah
Thru love I will find the meaning of you
All my natral dreams will come true
Its like a river that flows to the sea
Thru love I will find a meaning in life
But the rain must fall down tonight
And like a river that flows to the sea
Oh yeah, the river must flow from me
(the river must flow)
From me
(the river must flow)
(the river must flow)
(the river must flow)
From me (the river must flow)
From me (the river must flow)

song performed by Gino Vanelli
Added by Lucian Velea
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