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And who is any of us, that without starvation he can go through the kingdoms of starvation?

quote by Haniel Long
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Paradise Regained: The Fourth Book

Perplexed and troubled at his bad success
The Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,
Discovered in his fraud, thrown from his hope
So oft, and the persuasive rhetoric
That sleeked his tongue, and won so much on Eve,
So little here, nay lost. But Eve was Eve;
This far his over-match, who, self-deceived
And rash, beforehand had no better weighed
The strength he was to cope with, or his own.
But—as a man who had been matchless held
In cunning, over-reached where least he thought,
To salve his credit, and for very spite,
Still will be tempting him who foils him still,
And never cease, though to his shame the more;
Or as a swarm of flies in vintage-time,
About the wine-press where sweet must is poured,
Beat off, returns as oft with humming sound;
Or surging waves against a solid rock,
Though all to shivers dashed, the assault renew,
(Vain battery!) and in froth or bubbles end—
So Satan, whom repulse upon repulse
Met ever, and to shameful silence brought,
Yet gives not o'er, though desperate of success,
And his vain importunity pursues.
He brought our Saviour to the western side
Of that high mountain, whence he might behold
Another plain, long, but in breadth not wide,
Washed by the southern sea, and on the north
To equal length backed with a ridge of hills
That screened the fruits of the earth and seats of men
From cold Septentrion blasts; thence in the midst
Divided by a river, off whose banks
On each side an Imperial City stood,
With towers and temples proudly elevate
On seven small hills, with palaces adorned,
Porches and theatres, baths, aqueducts,
Statues and trophies, and triumphal arcs,
Gardens and groves, presented to his eyes
Above the highth of mountains interposed—
By what strange parallax, or optic skill
Of vision, multiplied through air, or glass
Of telescope, were curious to enquire.
And now the Tempter thus his silence broke:—
"The city which thou seest no other deem
Than great and glorious Rome, Queen of the Earth
So far renowned, and with the spoils enriched
Of nations. There the Capitol thou seest,
Above the rest lifting his stately head
On the Tarpeian rock, her citadel
Impregnable; and there Mount Palatine,

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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A Song in Time of Order. 1852

PUSH hard across the sand,
For the salt wind gathers breath;
Shoulder and wrist and hand,
Push hard as the push of death.

The wind is as iron that rings,
The foam-heads loosen and flee;
It swells and welters and swings,
The pulse of the tide of the sea.

And up on the yellow cliff
The long corn flickers and shakes;
Push, for the wind holds stiff,
And the gunwale dips and rakes.

Good hap to the fresh fierce weather,
The quiver and beat of the sea!
While three men hold together,
The kingdoms are less by three.

Out to the sea with her there,
Out with her over the sand;
Let the kings keep the earth for their share!
We have done with the sharers of land.

They have tied the world in a tether,
They have bought over God with a fee;
While three men hold together,
The kingdoms are less by three.

We have done with the kisses that sting,
The thief’s mouth red from the feast,
The blood on the hands of the king
And the lie at the lips of the priest.

Will they tie the winds in a tether,
Put a bit in the jaws of the sea?
While three men hold together,
The kingdoms are less by three.

Let our flag run out straight in the wind!
The old red shall be floated again
When the ranks that are thin shall be thinned,
When the names that were twenty are ten;

When the devil’s riddle is mastered
And the galley-bench creaks with a Pope,
We shall see Buonaparte the bastard
Kick heels with his throat in a rope.

[...] Read more

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Poisonos girls

Wars are not won merely by bravery
You may have large army of infantry or cavalry
Wars may bring destruction and misery
It is useless, senseless and simply unnecessary

War can be won by use of diplomacy
May settle problem and establish supremacy
On one side threat and other side peace advocacy
Open field for sending state to insolvency

How many lives may be lost in process?
Atrocities, torture and force used in excess
No horrified tales to find its way to world
Deaths, hunger, poverty only to emerge in cold

Modern warfare involves great precision
But lacks firmness and vision or decision
Faulty planning and error leads to war
Nobody thinks of war and what is meant for!

Our ancestors had great vision ands reason
Boundaries were fully secured in all the seasons
Prosperity all over and no worry for invasion
Death penalty for robbery and high treason

Girls were used for sabotage in neighbourhood
They were reared and fed the poisonous food
Sent with mission to kill the easy target
Kingdoms sent into jittery and preparedness forget

Many kingdoms were simply raged to ground
The real reason was not ascertained or found
Poisonous girls played their part as sacred duty
They were not ashamed or felt pity

It is nature’s law that simply allow
Big fishes go to small one to swallow
It is continuous process and goes on
We simply catch the mood and act upon

Big kingdoms used to adopt same way
In long run it stood ground and used to pay
Little kingdoms lost their territory and freedom
This might be considered as tactics and wisdom

Modern diplomacy lack teeth have no such tactics
It only thrives and relies upon figures and statistics
Brutal use of force or aggression is only way in politics
Sovereign states are free to determine course of action
Territorial integrity and freedom should invite no reaction

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Above All

Verse 1
Above all powers above all kings
Above all kingdoms
Above all nature and all created things
Above all thrones
Above all wisdom and all the ways of man
Above all wonders
You were here before the world began
The world has ever known
Above all wealth
Above all kingdoms above all thrones
And treasures of the earth
Above all wonders the world has ever known
There's no way to measure
Above all wealth and treasures of the earth
What You're worth
There's no way to measure what You're worth
Verse 2
Crucified laid behind the stone
Above all powers
You lived to die rejected and alone
Above all kings
Like a Rose trampled on the ground
Above all nature
You took the fall and thought of me
And all created things
Above all
Above all wisdom
And all the ways of man
Above all powers above all kings
You were here
Above all nature and all created things
Before the world began
Above all wisdom and all the ways of man
You were here before the world began
CHORUS
Crucified
Above all kingdoms above all thrones
Laid behind the stone
Above all wonders the world has ever known
You lived to die
Above all wealth and treasures of the earth
Rejected and alone
There's no way to measure what You're worth
Like a rose
Trampled on the ground
Crucified laid behind the stone
You took the fall
You lived to die rejected and alone
And thought of me

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song performed by Michael W. Smith
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A poem, on the rising glory of America

LEANDER.
No more of Memphis and her mighty kings,
Or Alexandria, where the Ptolomies.
Taught golden commerce to unfurl her falls,
And bid fair science smile: No more of Greece
Where learning next her early visit paid,
And spread her glories to illume the world,
No more of Athens, where she flourished,
And saw her sons of mighty genius rise
Smooth flowing Plato, Socrates and him
Who with resistless eloquence reviv'd
The Spir't of Liberty, and shook the thrones
Of Macedon and Persia's haughty king.
No more of Rome enlighten'd by her beams,
Fresh kindling there the fire of eloquence,
And poesy divine; imperial Rome!
Whose wide dominion reach'd o'er half the globe;
Whose eagle flew o'er Ganges to the East,
And in the West far to the British isles.
No more of Britain, and her kings renown'd,
Edward's and Henry's thunderbolts of war;
Her chiefs victorious o'er the Gallic foe;
Illustrious senators, immortal bards,
And wise philosophers, of these no more.
A Theme more new, tho' not less noble claims
Our ev'ry thought on this auspicious day
The rising glory of this western world,
Where now the dawning light of science spreads
Her orient ray, and wakes the muse's song;
Where freedom holds her sacred standard high,
And commerce rolls her golden tides profuse
Of elegance and ev'ry joy of life.

ACASTO.
Since then Leander you attempt a strain
So new, so noble and so full of fame;
And since a friendly concourse centers here
America's own sons, begin O muse!
Now thro' the veil of ancient days review
The period fam'd when first Columbus touch'd
The shore so long unknown, thro' various toils,
Famine and death, the hero made his way,
Thro' oceans bestowing with eternal storms.
But why, thus hap'ly found, should we resume
The tale of Cortez, furious chief, ordain'd
With Indian blood to dye the sands, and choak
Fam'd Amazonia's stream with dead! Or why,
Once more revive the story old in fame,

[...] Read more

poem by Hugh Henry Brackenridge
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Hymn 65

The kingdoms of the world become the kingdoms of our Lord; or, The day of judgment.

Rev. 11:15-18.

Let the seventh angel sound on high,
Let shouts be heard through all the sky;
Kings of the earth, with glad accord,
Give up your kingdoms to the Lord.

Almighty God, thy power assume,
Who wast, and art, and art to come:
Jesus, the Lamb who once was slain,
For ever live, for ever reign!

The angry nations fret and roar,
That they can slay the saints no more
On wings of vengeance flies our God,
To pay the long arrears of blood.

Now must the rising dead appear;
Now the decisive sentence hear;
Now the dear martyrs of the Lord
Receive an infinite reward.

poem by Isaac Watts
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Battle of Red Cliff

The Yangtze flows east
Washing away
A thousand ages of great men
West of the ramparts --
People say --
Are the fabled Red Cliffs of young Chou of the Three Kingdoms
Rebellious rocks pierce the sky
Frightening waves rip the bank
The backwash churns vast snowy swells --
River and mountains like a painting
how many heroes passed them, once ...

Think back to those years, Chou Yu --
Just married to the younger Chiao --
Brave, brilliant
With plumed fan, silk kerchief
Laughed and talked
While masts and oars vanished to flying ash and smoke!
I roam through ancient realms
Absurdly moved
Turn gray too soon --
A man's life passes like a dream --
Pour out a cup then, to the river, and the moon

Translation 2

The endless river eastward flows;
With its huge waves are gone all those
Gallant heroes of bygone years.
West of the ancient fortress years
Red Cliff where General Zhou Yu won his early fame
When the Three Kingdoms were in flame.
Jugged rocks tower in the air
And swashing waves beat on the air
Rolling up a thousand heaps of snow.
To match the hills and the river so fair,
How many heroes brave of yore
Made a great show!

Translation 3

The great river surges east,

[...] Read more

poem by Su Tung-po
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Canto the Sixth

I
"There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which, -- taken at the flood," -- you know the rest,
And most of us have found it now and then;
At least we think so, though but few have guess'd
The moment, till too late to come again.
But no doubt every thing is for the best --
Of which the surest sign is in the end:
When things are at the worst they sometimes mend.

II
There is a tide in the affairs of women
Which, taken at the flood, leads -- God knows where:
Those navigators must be able seamen
Whose charts lay down its current to a hair;
Not all the reveries of Jacob Behmen
With its strange whirls and eddies can compare:
Men with their heads reflect on this and that --
But women with their hearts on heaven knows what!

III
And yet a headlong, headstrong, downright she,
Young, beautiful, and daring -- who would risk
A throne, the world, the universe, to be
Beloved in her own way, and rather whisk
The stars from out the sky, than not be free
As are the billows when the breeze is brisk --
Though such a she's a devil (if that there be one),
Yet she would make full many a Manichean.

IV
Thrones, worlds, et cetera, are so oft upset
By commonest ambition, that when passion
O'erthrows the same, we readily forget,
Or at the least forgive, the loving rash one.
If Antony be well remember'd yet,
'T is not his conquests keep his name in fashion,
But Actium, lost for Cleopatra's eyes,
Outbalances all Caesar's victories.

V
He died at fifty for a queen of forty;
I wish their years had been fifteen and twenty,
For then wealth, kingdoms, worlds are but a sport -- I
Remember when, though I had no great plenty
Of worlds to lose, yet still, to pay my court, I
Gave what I had -- a heart: as the world went, I
Gave what was worth a world; for worlds could never
Restore me those pure feelings, gone forever.

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poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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Don Juan: Canto The Sixth

'There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which,--taken at the flood,'--you know the rest,
And most of us have found it now and then;
At least we think so, though but few have guess'd
The moment, till too late to come again.
But no doubt every thing is for the best-
Of which the surest sign is in the end:
When things are at the worst they sometimes mend.

There is a tide in the affairs of women
Which, taken at the flood, leads- God knows where:
Those navigators must be able seamen
Whose charts lay down its current to a hair;
Not all the reveries of Jacob Behmen
With its strange whirls and eddies can compare:
Men with their heads reflect on this and that-
But women with their hearts on heaven knows what!

And yet a headlong, headstrong, downright she,
Young, beautiful, and daring- who would risk
A throne, the world, the universe, to be
Beloved in her own way, and rather whisk
The stars from out the sky, than not be free
As are the billows when the breeze is brisk-
Though such a she 's a devil (if that there be one),
Yet she would make full many a Manichean.

Thrones, worlds, et cetera, are so oft upset
By commonest ambition, that when passion
O'erthrows the same, we readily forget,
Or at the least forgive, the loving rash one.
If Antony be well remember'd yet,
'T is not his conquests keep his name in fashion,
But Actium, lost for Cleopatra's eyes,
Outbalances all Caesar's victories.

He died at fifty for a queen of forty;
I wish their years had been fifteen and twenty,
For then wealth, kingdoms, worlds are but a sport- I
Remember when, though I had no great plenty
Of worlds to lose, yet still, to pay my court, I
Gave what I had- a heart: as the world went, I
Gave what was worth a world; for worlds could never
Restore me those pure feelings, gone forever.

'T was the boy's 'mite,' and, like the 'widow's,' may
Perhaps be weigh'd hereafter, if not now;
But whether such things do or do not weigh,
All who have loved, or love, will still allow
Life has nought like it. God is love, they say,

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Orphans Of Wealth

There is no time to discuss or debate
What is right, what is wrong for our people
Time has run out for all those who wait
With bent limbs and minds that are feeble
And the rain falls and blows through their window
And the snow falls and blows through their door
And the seasons revolve 'mid their sounds of starvation
When the tides rise, they cover the floor
And they come from the north
And they come from the south
And they come from the hills and they valleys
And they're migrants and farmers
And miners and humans
Our census neglected to tally
And the rain falls and blows through their window
And the snow falls and blows through their door
And the seasons revolve 'mid their sounds of starvation
When the tides rise, they cover the floor
And they're African, Mexican, Caucasian, Indian
Hungry and hopeless Americans
The orphans of wealth and of adequate health
Disowned by this nation they live in
And with weather-worn hands
On bread lines they stand
Yet but one more degradation
Yes, and they're treated like tramps
While we sell them food stamps
This thriving and prosperous nation
And the rain falls and blows through their window
And the snow falls and blows through their door
And the seasons revolve 'mid their sounds of starvation
When the tides rise, they cover the floor
And with roaches and rickets and rats in the thickets
Infested, diseased, and decaying
With rags and no shoes and skin sores that ooze
By the poisonous pools they are playing
In shacks of two rooms that are rotting wood tombs
With corpses breathing inside them
Yes, and we pity their plight as they call in the night
And we do all that we can do to

song performed by Don McLean
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Here To Love You

Michael mcdonald
Ive heard it said that the weight of the worlds problems
Is enough to make the ball fall right through space
That it aint even worth it to live
With all thats goin wrong
Well, let me just go down as saying
That Im glad to be here
Here with all the same pain and laughs everybody knows
Some men think theyre born to be king
Maybe thats true
But I think passing love around
Is all we were born to do
Let them build their kingdoms
Let them make the laws for this world to heed
cause you and I make life worth living
Right here in each others arms
Im here to love you, baby
No more loneliness
No more emptiness
Im here to love you
Let them build their kingdoms
Let them make the laws for this world to heed
cause you and I make life worth living
Right here in each others arms
Im here to love you, baby
No more loneliness
No more emptiness
Im here to love you...
Im here to love you
Just let me go on loving you
Dont stop me now while Im feeling this way...

song performed by Doobie Brothers
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The Man In Love With You

If you've think I've second guessed it
Or for one minute I've regretted this life with you
No there's never been a moment
not one time I haven't noted
What I have with you
You hold my heart
Deep inside of
every single part
~Chorus~
If I could be anything I wished that I could be
Ohh baby
If I could rule over kingdoms
and maybe even sail the seven seas Ohh oohh
If I could do all the things
that I only dreamed that I could do
I'd still be the Man in love with you
I try everydayd to show it
Just to make sure that you know it
I'm here to stay
And you'll never have a reason
To ever think I'm leaving there just no way
Its no mystery
How i Feel
Baby can't you see
~Chorus~
If I could be anything I wished that I could be
Ohh baby
If I could rule over kingdoms
and maybe even sail the seven seas Ohh oohh
If I could do all the things
that I only dreamed that I could do
I'd still be the Man in love with you
*Bridge*
I can't go crazy
I always see traces
of the only thing in life I'll ever need
if I could do all the things
that I only dreamed that I could do
I'd still be the man in love with you
I'd still be the man in love with you

song performed by Rascal Flatts
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Mad About You

A stoness throw from jerusalem
I walked a lonely mile in the moonlight
And though a million stars were shining
My heart was lost on a distant planet
That whirls around the april moon
Whirling in an arc of sadness
Im lost without you Im lost without you
Though all the kingdoms turn to sand
And fall into the sea
Im mad about you Im mad about you
And from the dark secluded valleys
I heard the ancient songs of sadness
But every step I thought of you
Every footstep only you
And every star a grain of sand
The leavings of a dried up ocean
Tell me, how much longer? how much longer?
They say a city in the desert lies
The vanity of an ancient king
But the city lies in broken pieces
Where the wind howls and the vultures sing
These are the works of man
This is the sun of our ambition
It would make a prison of my life
If you become anothers wife
With every prison blown to dust
My enemies walk free
Im mad about you Im mad about you
And I have never in my life
Felt more alone than I do now
Although I claim dominations over all I see
It means nothing to me
There are no victories
In all our histories, without love
A stones throw from jerusalem
A walked a lonely mile in the moonlight
And though a million stars were shining
My heart was lost on a distant planet
That whirls around the april moon
Whirling in an arc of sadness
Im lost without you Im lost without you
And though you hold the keys to ruin
Of everything I see
With every prison blown to dust,
My enemies walk free
Though all the kingdoms turn to sand
And fall into the sea
Im mad about you Im mad about you

song performed by Sting
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Canto the Third

I.

Is thy face like thy mother’s, my fair child!
Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart?
When last I saw thy young blue eyes, they smiled,
And then we parted, - not as now we part,
But with a hope. -
Awaking with a start,
The waters heave around me; and on high
The winds lift up their voices: I depart,
Whither I know not; but the hour’s gone by,
When Albion’s lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.

II.

Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
That knows his rider. Welcome to their roar!
Swift be their guidance, wheresoe’er it lead!
Though the strained mast should quiver as a reed,
And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale,
Still must I on; for I am as a weed,
Flung from the rock, on Ocean’s foam, to sail
Where’er the surge may sweep, the tempest’s breath prevail.

III.

In my youth’s summer I did sing of One,
The wandering outlaw of his own dark mind;
Again I seize the theme, then but begun,
And bear it with me, as the rushing wind
Bears the cloud onwards: in that tale I find
The furrows of long thought, and dried-up tears,
Which, ebbing, leave a sterile track behind,
O’er which all heavily the journeying years
Plod the last sands of life - where not a flower appears.

IV.

Since my young days of passion - joy, or pain,
Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string,
And both may jar: it may be, that in vain
I would essay as I have sung to sing.
Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I cling,
So that it wean me from the weary dream
Of selfish grief or gladness - so it fling
Forgetfulness around me - it shall seem
To me, though to none else, a not ungrateful theme.

V.

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poem by Byron from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)
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The Pleasures of Hope

Part I.

At summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow
Spans with bright arch the glittering bills below,
Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye,
Whose sunbright summit mingles with the sky ?
Why do those clifts of shadowy tint appear
More sweet than all the landscape smiling near ?—
'T is distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Thus, with delight, we linger to survey
The promised joys of life's unmeasured way;
Thus, from afar, each dim-discovered scene
More pleasing seems than all the past hath been,
And every form, that Fancy can repair
From dark oblivion, glows divinely there.
What potent spirit guides the raptured eye
To pierce the shades of dim futurity ?
Can Wisdom lend, with all her heavenly power,
The pledge of Joy's anticipated hour ?
Ah, no! she darkly sees the fate of man—
Her dim horizon bounded to a span;
Or, if she hold an image to the view,
'T is Nature pictured too severely true.
With thee, sweet Hope! resides the heavenly light,
That pours remotest rapture on the sight:
Thine is the charm of life's bewildered way,
That calls each slumbering passion into play.
Waked by thy touch, I see the sister band,
On tiptoe watching, staft at thy command
And fly where'er thy mandate bids them steer,
To Pleasure's path or Glory's bright career.
Primeval Hope, the Aonian Muses say,
When Man and Nature mourned their first decay;
When every form of death, and every woe,
Shot from malignant stars to earth below ;
When Murder bared her arm, and rampant War
Yoked the red dragons of her iron car ;
When Peace and Mercy, banished from the plain,
Sprung on the viewless winds to Heaven again ;
All, all forsook the friendless, guilty mind,
But Hope, the charmer, lingered still behind.
Thus, while Elijah's burning wheels prepare
From Carmel's heights to sweep the fields of air,
The prophet's mantle, ere his fight began,
Dropt on the world—a sacred gift to man.
Auspicious Hope ! in thy sweet garden grow
Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe ;
Won by their sweets, in Nature's languid hour,
The way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summer bower ;

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poem by Thomas Campbell
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Sacred And Profane Love

In the dark shadow of the windless pines
Whose gloomy glory lines the obsequies
Of the gaunt Claudian Aqueduct along
The lone Campagna to sepulchral Rome,
A Northern youth, companionless, reclined,
Pondering on records of the Roman Past,
Kingdom, Republic, Empire, longwhile gone.
Hard-by, through marble tomb revivified,
Rippled and bubbled water crystalline,
Inwelling from the far-off Sabine hills.
When lo! upon the tomb's deep-dinted rim
Slowly there broadened on his gaze two shapes,
Material embodiment of those
The great Venetian in resplendent hues
Upon the canvas lastingly portrayed,
Christened by fame Profane and Sacred Love.
One was in rich habiliments arrayed,
With dimpling folds about her rounded limbs,
And heaving corset of embossed brocade,
Compressing beaker for her brimming breasts.
Jewels were in her hair, jewels entwined
Themselves round her columnar throat, and thus
On him she gazed unshrinkingly, and seemed
Sensuous seduction irresistible.
The other in nude innocency clad,
All save veined vineleaf cincture round her waist,
Sate with her gaze averted, and beheld
Only her image trembling in the wave.
Her had he fain accosted, but the dread
Of violating her aloofness checked
The movement of his mind, and held him mute.
So to the One resplendently enrobed,
Familiarly fearless as herself,
He turned, albeit his thought was otherwhere,
As elsewhere his desire, and boldly said:
``If with your earthly seeming be conjoined
Gift and capacity of earthly speech,
Speak to me, earthly, an you will, and break
The all too spacious silence with your voice.''
Her curving lips, whose fulness seemed to pledge
Intoxicating kisses, drooped apart,
And to her orbs upsurged volcanic fire,
As she with prompt unhesitating voice,
Commanding more than musical, rejoined.
Whereat that Other ever and anon
Would for a moment turn to him her face,
To note the interpretation of his heart
And wavering of his will, and then once more
Her look averted to the Sabine hills,
And cloudless vault of overarching Heaven.

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poem by Alfred Austin
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Color is Prestige-A tribute to the American people

kings and their mighty kingdoms, in the ancient world, wore
splinded clamorous robes and dresses with illuminated
color, a symbol of their mighty kingdoms

every reign has its own choice of royal color, a purple comes,
the most revealing feature of all kings, nay the red comes
next and the yellow, where since from the start of the imperial
court of china, it was used

it's the color that makes it to happen, bringing prosperous
and good tiding to every one, and health gives the people the
wealth to live this occurring world

in this millennium, color mixed in every races and mingle in
different culture, it is the color that gives beauty, that switch
our destiny, while its individual uniqueness give us the direction
of where to think and go, our diverse intellectual capacity
guide us to, ponder the right choice to make

the decision is not the answer to the choice, but the chance to
live is to change, what is being calls to do, the American has
opted not only to vote, the choice made is, paving the road to
pole vault, of what is the future, not by the color of man's skin,
he brings from God

service is not credited by the color, nor the color of the skin,
shows the worth of service a man can give, for service has no
color at all, as the air we breath leaves no color, the water
drinks fresh our thirst, and the soul lives no color, that leads
us where the future awaits us our presence

let all the continents, witness, the changing world we live,
seeing the perfect harmony we receive, living with diverse
culture we profess in every lives must receive the wonderful
world of God, he freely gives

if, sometimes you happen to forget, the 44th President
Barack Obama as the president of the United States of
America, just lives in your heart and remember, that once
upon a time, a moment, a history to grasp in our memories
and a social maturity has come, to the people of America
who timely chose, the right color to see the future of this
generation

' if you remember this moment, you'll never be..... gone '

poem by Antonio Liao
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Daniel’s Mysteries

Friend, for this ever changing world, the Book of Daniel was unfurled.
Saying men will be run to and fro, in search of Truth for them to know.
Knowledge will increase my friend, and this will continue until the end.
God said close the book until the end, and that time is now, my friend.
Many in the end will be purified, by Christ who on the cross had died.
The wicked will continue their stand, and in the end won’t understand.
But all the wise shall understand, and will reign with The Son of Man.

Daniel saw a vision of the world, this is the prophecy he would herald.
Daniel saw an image of a beast; four kingdoms from greatest to least.
On the image was a head of gold, concerning the head Daniel was told,
Of these kingdoms the greatest one, would be the kingdom of Babylon.
Silver were the arms and chest, and so this is what Daniel would attest,
The second kingdom built-up by men, would become the Medo-Persian.
Bronze made up the belly and thighs; this is what Daniel did describe,
The third kingdom that would cease, was the empire known as Greece.
Then legs of iron and feet of clay, this would describe man’s final way,
This was the Roman Empire described, that will be revived in our time.

There will be a time of tribulation, experienced by every single nation.
Armies will invade the Holy Land, while most men will not understand.
That is when the Promised Land, shall see returning The Son of Man.
Daniel then saw a rock from the sky, cut out of a mountain up on high,
One not cut by human hands, but sent by God to crush wicked lands.
This rock my friend is Jesus Christ, the very Creator of all human life.
He will establish His Kingdom friend, upon this earth that will not end.

(Copyright ©07/2005)

poem by Bob Gotti
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A Song For Peace And Honour

TO THE QUEEN

LADY and Queen, for whom our laurels twine,
Upon whose head the glories of our land
In one immortal diadem are met,
Embodied England, in whose woman-hand
The sceptre of Imperial sway is set,
Receive this song of mine!
For you are England, and her bays grow green
To deck your brow, your goodness lends her grace,
And in our hearts your face is as Her face;
The Mother-Country is the Mother-Queen.

We, men of England, children of her might,
With all our Mother's record-roll of glory,
Great with her greatness, noble by her name,
Drank with our mothers' milk our Mother's story,
And in our veins the splendour of her fame
Made strong our blood and bright;
And to her absent sons her name has been
Familiar music heard in distant lands,
Heart of our heart and sinews of our hands,
England, our Mother, our Mistress and our Queen!

Out of the thunderous echoes of the past
Through the gold-dust of centuries we hear
Her voice, 'O children of a royal line,
Sons of her heart, whom England holdeth dear,
Mine was the Past--make ye the future mine
All glorious to the last!'
And, as we hear her, cowards grow to men,
And men to heroes, and the voice of fear
Is as a whisper in a deaf man's ear,
And the dead past is quick in us again.

Her robe is woven of glory and renown,
Hers are the golden-laden Argosies,
And lordship of the wild and watery ways,
Her flag is blown across the utmost seas:
Dead nations built her throne, and kingdoms blaze
For jewels in her crown.
Her Empire like a girdle doth enfold
The world; her feet upon her foes are set;
She wears the steel-wrought, blood-bright amulet
Won by her children in the days of old.

[...] Read more

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Too Late

WHEN Love, sweet Love, was tangled in my snare
I clipped his wings, and dressed his cage with flowers,
Made him my little joy for little hours,
And fed him when I had a song to spare.
And then I saw how good life's good things were,
The kingdoms and the glories and the powers.
Flowers grew in sheaves and stars were shed in showers,
And, when the great things wearied, Love was there.

But when, within his cage, one winter day
I found him lying still with folded wings,
No longer fluttering, eager to be fed--
Kingdoms and powers and glories passed away,
And of life's countless, precious, priceless things
Nothing was left but Love--and Love was dead!

poem by Edith Nesbit
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