This whole tribal loyalty seems to have gone.
quote by Fiona Shaw
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Tribal Dance
Key:-a - anita r - ray
R: come on. check it out, yall
A: come on, come on!
Come on, come on!
R: check it out! the tribal dance!
(say that again? )
R: feel the force, this is your chance
To get control and do the tribal dance
People started dancing a long time ago
The bass was fast, but then again it was slow
Soul, house, hip-hop and blues
It doesnt really matter which music you choose
Start up a dance this is your chance
To come with me and do the tribal dance!
A: youve got to move it feel the temperature
Into the rythym let the fire burn
So get into it-- get into the trance
This is the rhythm of the tribal dance
the tribal dance!
R: it started with a tribe who discovered the vibe
Who moved to the rhythm just the way they liked
You hear the treble, you hear the bass
The r-a-y, yeah is on the case
Feel the fire, feel the flame
Do your thing now, dont be ashamed
I have to go now no offense
Ive hooked you up into the tribal dance!
A: get it into it!
Get into it!
Get into the trance!
A:youve got to move it feel the temperature
Into the rythym let the fire burn
So get into it-- get into the trance
This is the rhythm of the tribal dance
the tribal dance!
A: youve got to do the tribal dance!
R: check it out! cmon! take your chance!
Check it out! cmon! take your chance!
Check it out! cmon! take your chance!
A: tribal dance!
R: tribal dance, tribal dance!
A: yeah! oh!
R: tribal dance! tribal dance!
A:youve got to move it feel the temperature
Into the rythym let the fire burn
So get into it-- get into the trance
This is the rhythm of the tribal dance
the tribal dance!
A:youve got to move it feel the temperature
Into the rythym let the fire burn
[...] Read more
song performed by 2 Unlimited
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Tribal
Chorus:
Tribal warriors!
Where do you stand in this battle cry tribal soldier?
Represent I and I jah jah warriors!
Repeat 4x
The reconstruction commences.
The soldiers equip for the lessons.
My life, a sacrifice is made new through these confessions.
Manifested, this joy is my desire.
Light this fire to flames.
Praise the name jehovah jireh.
Is my provider the truth that lives inside this fighter?
Take me higher, master, sire makes me a good rider.
Im gonna ride on down til I break through the front lines,
And aint going home until I gets mines.
Chorus:
Tribal warriors!
Where do you stand in this battle cry tribal soldier?
Represent I and I jah jah warriors!
Repeat 4x
I grab ahold of my second chance.
This time Im gonna make it last.
Left the world, came back an outcast.
To lay among the remains,
Through the trials and the pains.
Run for cover, make shelter, uncharted terrains.
Bloodstains light the paths to the ways of living breath.
My soul is put to the test.
Blessed with a mic in my hand.
Jah make straight my steps.
Then I hooked up with payable on death.
We flow in unity.
Stand in one while the foolish be,
Lost in this hour.
With power we have authority,
To overcome while these cowards just pick up and run.
Well we aint done til this battle has been fought and won.
This vitory, how sweet it be, is already ours.
Holding the stars, is the man that carries my scars.
Always the same, wear his name with no shame.
Here in this battle cry, we will never die.
We will never die tribal warriors
We will never die
We will never die tribal warriors
We will never die
We will never die
We will never die
I want to know!
Chorus:
Where do you stand in this battle cry tribal soldier?
[...] Read more
song performed by P.O.D.
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Loyalty to the family must be merged into loyalty to the community, loyalty to the community into loyalty to the nation, and loyalty to the nation into loyalty to mankind. The citizen of the future must be a citizen of the world.
quote by Thomas Cochrane
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Somewhere In The Jungle
There it stands way up high
A million bodies piled to the sky
Arms and legs, feet and hands
Impossible to understand
Countless heads, ears and eyes
Never hear, never cry
Tribal chants, tribal war
Tribal death, tribal gore
And the scaveggers are feeding
Cuz the killing fields are bleeding
Not a single soul is breathing
Cuz the Serengetti's bleedin'
And the scaveggers are feeding
Cuz the killing fields are bleeding
Not a single soul is breathing
Cuz the Serengetti's bleedin'
Listen somewhere in the jungle
You can hear the devil laughing
Somewhere
African genucide
Brother kill brother
Side by side
Wild animals show their teeth
And run away in disbelief
And the scaveggers are feeding
Cuz the killing fields are bleeding
Not a single soul is breathing
Cuz the Serengetti's bleedin'
And the scaveggers are feeding
Cuz the killing fields are bleeding
Listen somewhere in the jungle
You can hear the devil laughing
Somewhere
Somewhere the rivers will flow with blood
The mothers will cry their tears
They watch their sons die
Listen somewhere in the jungle
You can hear the devil laughing
Somewhere
Listen somewhere in the jungle
You can hear the devil laughing
Somewhere
Listen somewhere in the jungle
You can hear the devil laughing
Somewhere
Cuz the Serengetti's bleedin'
Listen somewhere in the jungle
You can hear the devil laughing
Somewhere
Somewhere the rivers will flow with blood
[...] Read more
song performed by Alice Cooper
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Dog Soldier Lodge Affirmed
We believed in love, freedom, nobility;
to spiritual depths of our souls.
We believed in spiritual sacredness;
of our vibrant untamed land.
We rode our mustangs like wind tossed rolling thunder;
drumming within across prairie storm front;
as we rode wild free ranging prairie wind;
sweeping across an untamed unshod land.
We were so proud to live; as robust hunter-warriors;
to walk stand tall; sharing tribal life spirit.
So proud to live! So proud to die!
We fought frightened forked tongued white devil;
with every honourable fibre of our sacred being;
as they swept like vermin; despoiling stealing violating;
great beauty of a spiritual primeval land.
As Dog Soldier Warriors; of entrusted sacred lodge;
we died as we lived; with respect spiritual nobility.
I remember drums beating beating beating....
as my tribe cast my sacred spirit free.
I remember ritual tribal drums beating;
as my people cast my shaman spirit free;
vanquishing suppressed pain of weeping wounds;
which had battle pierced bled profusely;
sustained in mesmeric dance of necessitated battle;
when trampled buffalo hide tepee; of venerated Great Spirit;
within my warrior hardened body; invincible in combat;
finally fell undefeated; before an ignoble enemy.
Defend ancestral hunting grounds; wearer of eagle feathered;
war bonnet; strike with medicine power; of eagle descending....
on prey; protect shaman warrior; brave deeds in battle worthy;
first to touch living fallen enemy in battle; in front of fighting.... notched decorated feathers tell your deeds; designate swift killing;
telling your fierce individual stories; scalping capturing....
enemy’s weapons shield proudly worn; how thunder on horseback
or foot; attacking fear you struck into veteran civil war enemies....
What remained of a once proud people; hostilities long bled;
cast my shaman spirit free; cleansing ceremony completing;
to roam restoring; releasing vitality; warrior leading retaliatory strikes;
be free in spiritual hunting ground; of earned nomadic nobility.
Until foretold time; descendant tribe; would seek; must seek;
wisdom of spirit world; to guide survivors in spiritual perpetuity.
Then search in sacred ritual circle ceremony; tribal knowledge proving;
for tribal lore; for primeval knowledge; for new found spirituality.
Guarded for time swept tribe; for time of great need;
by a shaman; by a newborn past ancestor; of awe inspiring ability.
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Candidate
This poem was written in , on occasion of the contest between the
Earls of Hardwicke and Sandwich for the High-stewardship of the
University of Cambridge, vacant by the death of the Lord Chancellor
Hardwicke. The spirit of party ran high in the University, and no
means were left untried by either candidate to obtain a majority. The
election was fixed for the th of March, when, after much
altercation, the votes appearing equal, a scrutiny was demanded;
whereupon the Vice-Chancellor adjourned the senate _sine die_. On
appeal to the Lord High-Chancellor, he determined in favour of the
Earl of Hardwicke, and a mandamus issued accordingly.
Enough of Actors--let them play the player,
And, free from censure, fret, sweat, strut, and stare;
Garrick abroad, what motives can engage
To waste one couplet on a barren stage?
Ungrateful Garrick! when these tasty days,
In justice to themselves, allow'd thee praise;
When, at thy bidding, Sense, for twenty years,
Indulged in laughter, or dissolved in tears;
When in return for labour, time, and health,
The town had given some little share of wealth,
Couldst thou repine at being still a slave?
Darest thou presume to enjoy that wealth she gave?
Couldst thou repine at laws ordain'd by those
Whom nothing but thy merit made thy foes?
Whom, too refined for honesty and trade,
By need made tradesmen, Pride had bankrupts made;
Whom Fear made drunkards, and, by modern rules,
Whom Drink made wits, though Nature made them fools;
With such, beyond all pardon is thy crime,
In such a manner, and at such a time,
To quit the stage; but men of real sense,
Who neither lightly give, nor take offence,
Shall own thee clear, or pass an act of grace,
Since thou hast left a Powell in thy place.
Enough of Authors--why, when scribblers fail,
Must other scribblers spread the hateful tale?
Why must they pity, why contempt express,
And why insult a brother in distress?
Let those, who boast the uncommon gift of brains
The laurel pluck, and wear it for their pains;
Fresh on their brows for ages let it bloom,
And, ages past, still flourish round their tomb.
Let those who without genius write, and write,
Versemen or prosemen, all in Nature's spite,
The pen laid down, their course of folly run
In peace, unread, unmention'd, be undone.
Why should I tell, to cross the will of Fate,
That Francis once endeavour'd to translate?
Why, sweet oblivion winding round his head,
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Churchill
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Tom Zart's 52 Best Of The Rest America At War Poems
SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF WORLD WAR III
The White House
Washington
Tom Zart's Poems
March 16,2007
Ms. Lillian Cauldwell
President and Chief Executive Officer
Passionate Internet Voices Radio
Ann Arbor Michigan
Dear Lillian:
Number 41 passed on the CDs from Tom Zart. Thank you for thinking of me. I am thankful for your efforts to honor our brave military personnel and their families. America owes these courageous men and women a debt of gratitude, and I am honored to be the commander in chief of the greatest force for freedom in the history of the world.
Best Wishes.
Sincerely,
George W. Bush
SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF WORLD WAR III
Our sons and daughters serve in harm's way
To defend our way of life.
Some are students, some grandparents
Many a husband or wife.
They face great odds without complaint
Gambling life and limb for little pay.
So far away from all they love
Fight our soldiers for whom we pray.
The plotters and planners of America's doom
Pledge to murder and maim all they can.
From early childhood they are taught
To kill is to become a man.
They exploit their young as weapons of choice
Teaching in heaven, virgins will await.
Destroying lives along with their own
To learn of their falsehoods too late.
The fearful cry we must submit
And find a way to soothe them.
Where defenders worry if we stand down
The future for America is grim.
[...] Read more
poem by Tom Zart
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In The Neolithic Age
In the Neolithic Age savage warfare did I wage
For food and fame and woolly horses' pelt;
I was singer to my clan in that dim, red Dawn of Man,
And I sang of all we fought and feared and felt.
Yea, I sang as now I sing, when the Prehistoric spring
Made the piled Biscayan ice-pack split and shove;
And the troll and gnome and dwerg, and the Gods of Cliff and Berg
Were about me and beneath me and above.
But a rival, of Solutr]/e, told the tribe my style was ~outr]/e~ --
'Neath a tomahawk of diorite he fell.
And I left my views on Art, barbed and tanged, below the heart
Of a mammothistic etcher at Grenelle.
Then I stripped them, scalp from skull, and my hunting dogs fed full,
And their teeth I threaded neatly on a thong;
And I wiped my mouth and said, "It is well that they are dead,
For I know my work is right and theirs was wrong."
But my Totem saw the shame; from his ridgepole shrine he came,
And he told me in a vision of the night: --
"There are nine and sixty ways of constructing tribal lays,
And every single one of them is right!"
. . . . .
Then the silence closed upon me till They put new clothing on me
Of whiter, weaker flesh and bone more frail;
And I stepped beneath Time's finger, once again a tribal singer
[And a minor poet certified by Tr--ll].
Still they skirmish to and fro, men my messmates on the snow,
When we headed off the aurochs turn for turn;
When the rich Allobrogenses never kept amanuenses,
And our only plots were piled in lakes at Berne.
Still a cultured Christian age sees us scuffle, squeak, and rage,
Still we pinch and slap and jabber, scratch and dirk;
Still we let our business slide -- as we dropped the half-dressed hide --
To show a fellow-savage how to work.
Still the world is wondrous large, -- seven seas from marge to marge, --
And it holds a vast of various kinds of man;
And the wildest dreams of Kew are the facts of Khatmandhu,
And the crimes of Clapham chaste in Martaban.
Here's my wisdom for your use, as I learned it when the moose
And the reindeer roared where Paris roars to-night: --
There are nine and sixty ways of constructing tribal lays,
[...] Read more
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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First Born
In the softly scented twilight,
walking slowly simply musing.
My thoughts turn to my hearts delight
she is sure now to be choosing.
Which young man she wants to marry
now she has become a woman.
Hopefully I am her quarry now
that she must chose her man.
Long dark hair which flows like water,
flashing eyes that hold the moonlight.
Running Elk the chieftains daughter
graceful as the swallows in flight.
She is full of joy and laughter,
she sings sweeter than the song birds
Can I win the chieftains daughter
may the Great Spirit hear my words.
Many moons now I have loved her
watched her grow into a beauty
Now the goddess’ hand has touched her,
she must do her sacred duty.
She is old enough now to wed.
She must choose her life’s companion
to share her tepee and her bed.
I long to be her chosen one.
I am proud with much to offer.
Doughty warrior, careful tracker.
I have much that I can proffer
defence from any attacker.
Great Manitou lend me your aid.
Guide her footsteps let her choose me
from all the braves who will parade
Let her heart see my honesty.
Make me show worthy in her eyes.
She is young and needs a husband
who know that he has gained the prize.
Fairest maiden of all this land.
Through the night I’m vigil keeping
praying to ancestral spirits
Whilst the other braves are sleeping.
Night long prayers can bring benefits.
[...] Read more
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Wrath Of Loyalty
OCTOBER! tho' thy rugged brow,
No vivid wreaths entwine;
Tho' not for thee the zephyr blow,
Tho' not for thee the blossom glow,
Or skies unclouded shine:
Tho' o'er thy dark and russet vest
No rainbow-colors play;
Tho' dim thine eye, tho' cold thy breast,
Yet be thou honor'd, be thou blest,
E'en more than youthful May!
No vernal suns illume thy day,
Fair star of joy! then brighter beam!
No forest-notes attend thy way,
Then strike the lyre, then make the lay,
To one inspiring theme!
Thy steps may blight the roseate plain,
Thy winds may chill the vale;
Yet, blooming 'midst thy shadowy train,
One radiant morn adorns thy reign;
Hail! dark October! hail!
Thine is the day, to Britons dear,
That bids fair Albion dry the tear;
With myrtles wreath her victor-spear,
And ev'ry grief disown.
Oh! let a people's voice prolong,
Proud Loyalty's triumphal song;
And faith, and truth, and valor, throng
Around Britannia's throne!
That still their monarch's heart may feel
How sweet affections grateful zeal
Still kindle with the patriot flame,
And 'glory in a Briton's name!'
O name! by deeds emblazon'd high,
O name! exalted to the sky,
O name! ennobled by the free!
Thou sacred sovereign! worthy thee!
Then wake, fairest Albion! awake to rejoice,
To the Pæan of rapture attuning thy voice,
And suspending thy war-song awhile!
Thou hast mourn'd for the great, thou hast wept o'er the brave,
Thou hast bent in despair o'er the Patriot's grave;
But now from thy bosom repressing the sigh,
Dispelling the tear from thy sun-darting eye,
Let ecstacy dawn in thy smile!
[...] Read more
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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M'Fingal - Canto III
Now warm with ministerial ire,
Fierce sallied forth our loyal 'Squire,
And on his striding steps attends
His desperate clan of Tory friends.
When sudden met his wrathful eye
A pole ascending through the sky,
Which numerous throngs of whiggish race
Were raising in the market-place.
Not higher school-boy's kites aspire,
Or royal mast, or country spire;
Like spears at Brobdignagian tilting,
Or Satan's walking-staff in Milton.
And on its top, the flag unfurl'd
Waved triumph o'er the gazing world,
Inscribed with inconsistent types
Of Liberty and thirteen stripes.
Beneath, the crowd without delay
The dedication-rites essay,
And gladly pay, in antient fashion,
The ceremonies of libation;
While briskly to each patriot lip
Walks eager round the inspiring flip:
Delicious draught! whose powers inherit
The quintessence of public spirit;
Which whoso tastes, perceives his mind
To nobler politics refined;
Or roused to martial controversy,
As from transforming cups of Circe;
Or warm'd with Homer's nectar'd liquor,
That fill'd the veins of gods with ichor.
At hand for new supplies in store,
The tavern opes its friendly door,
Whence to and fro the waiters run,
Like bucket-men at fires in town.
Then with three shouts that tore the sky,
'Tis consecrate to Liberty.
To guard it from th' attacks of Tories,
A grand Committee cull'd of four is;
Who foremost on the patriot spot,
Had brought the flip, and paid the shot.
By this, M'Fingal with his train
Advanced upon th' adjacent plain,
And full with loyalty possest,
Pour'd forth the zeal, that fired his breast.
"What mad-brain'd rebel gave commission,
To raise this May-pole of sedition?
[...] Read more
poem by John Trumbull
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An Anthem for the Australasian League
SHALL we sing of Loyalty
To the far South’s fiery youth?
Yea—but let the pæan be
Of loyalty to God and Truth:
To Man, to progress, and to all
The free things, nobly free,
Of which their loved Australia shall
The golden cradle be.
Hark! her star-eyed Destinies
Pour their voices o’er the seas—
Hither, to the Land of Gold,
All who would be free!
Here a diadem behold
For immortal Liberty!
Not for Old World queens and kings,
Villain Slavery’s outworn things!
Shall we sing of Loyalty
In this new and genial Land?
Yea—but let the pæan be
Of loyalty to Love’s command,
To Thought, to Beauty, and to all
The glorious Arts that yet
In golden Australasia shall
Like chrysolites be set.
poem by Charles Harpur
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Inevitabilty is my philosophy.
Kushih style.
I drink plum wine for preference.
The Moon my only company
There is no one to take offense.
If I should drink excessively.
My wife's been dead for many years.
But in my dreams she comes to me
and whispers wise words in my ears.
Tells me to show my loyalty.
The Emperors new counsellors
are too afraid to disagree.
They have not learnt the emperor.
Prefers truth to dishonesty.
The Emperor rewarded me
With honourable retirement.
And a small house beside the sea.
Where I reside alone content..
As content as I could be.
Without my wife, far from my friends.
Though they are free to visit me.
The few on whom I can depend.
To take the time to write to me.
I know the distance is too great
For them to visit easily.
Old faithful servants of the state.
Time moves on and we grow old.
The young ones lack experience.
A lack which makes them overbold.
They write to me in confidence.
About the errors which they see.
Young counsellors are prone to make.
Although I lack authority.
I know the actions I must take.
I must write to his majesty.
Humbly request an audience.
For many years he trusted me.
This is no time for hesitance.
I take my brush and carefully.
Select the words I want to use.
[...] Read more
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Absalom and Achitophel
In pious times, e'er Priest-craft did begin,
Before Polygamy was made a sin;
When man, on many, multiply'd his kind,
E'r one to one was, cursedly, confind:
When Nature prompted, and no law deny'd
Promiscuous use of Concubine and Bride;
Then, Israel's monarch, after Heaven's own heart,
His vigorous warmth did, variously, impart
To Wives and Slaves; And, wide as his Command,
Scatter'd his Maker's Image through the Land.
Michal, of Royal blood, the Crown did wear,
A Soyl ungratefull to the Tiller's care;
Not so the rest; for several Mothers bore
To Godlike David, several Sons before.
But since like slaves his bed they did ascend,
No True Succession could their seed attend.
Of all this Numerous Progeny was none
So Beautifull, so brave as Absalon:
Whether, inspir'd by some diviner Lust,
His father got him with a greater Gust;
Or that his Conscious destiny made way
By manly beauty to Imperiall sway.
Early in Foreign fields he won Renown,
With Kings and States ally'd to Israel's Crown
In Peace the thoughts of War he could remove,
And seem'd as he were only born for love.
What e'er he did was done with so much ease,
In him alone, 'twas Natural to please.
His motions all accompanied with grace;
And Paradise was open'd in his face.
With secret Joy, indulgent David view'd
His Youthfull Image in his Son renew'd:
To all his wishes Nothing he deny'd,
And made the Charming Annabel his Bride.
What faults he had (for who from faults is free?)
His Father could not, or he would not see.
Some warm excesses, which the Law forbore,
Were constru'd Youth that purg'd by boyling o'r:
And Amnon's Murther, by a specious Name,
Was call'd a Just Revenge for injur'd Fame.
Thus Prais'd, and Lov'd, the Noble Youth remain'd,
While David, undisturb'd, in Sion raign'd.
But Life can never be sincerely blest:
Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best.
The Jews, a Headstrong, Moody, Murmuring race,
As ever try'd th' extent and stretch of grace;
God's pamper'd people whom, debauch'd with ease,
No King could govern, nor no God could please;
(Gods they had tri'd of every shape and size
That Gods-smiths could produce, or Priests devise.)
[...] Read more
poem by John Dryden
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Honesty verses loyalty
Loyalty is being honest to a person;
Honesty is being loyal to a cause.
Loyalty is being faithful
And honesty, being virtuous.
Kumbakarna was loyal;
Vibhishna was honest.
The world is run by loyalty
Rather than by honesty.
07.09.2009
[Kumbakarna and Vibhishna are yonger brothers of King Ravana in the Hindu epic Ramayana.]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II
THE ARGUMENT
The Saints engage in fierce Contests
About their Carnal interests;
To share their sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm
Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.
THE learned write, an insect breeze
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e're the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn'd a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
That first run all religion down,
And after ev'ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian Magi once
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t' enjoy
That empire any other way;
So PRESBYTER begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil's dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood
Nor int'rest for the common good
Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd,
Get quarter for each other's beard.
For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd,
But only by the ears engag'd:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they've none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b' out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause,
[...] Read more
poem by Samuel Butler
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Hold You Down
JENNIFER LOPEZ LYRICS
"Hold You Down"
(feat. Fat Joe)
[Verse 1]
[Jennifer:]
Now you've been holding me down
For such a long time now
From back then
To now in my story
Straight from the hood
You've always been there for me
And ya had my back
(When they) Back when everybody said
I wasn't anything
It was you who had me holdin' on
No matter what was goin' on
So no whatever ya need I got you
[Fat Joe:]
Reminiscing that 6 train from way back
Now its sky blue phantoms and stretch may backs
Sweepin' them floors in them Bronx apartments
Mira esta que on that red carpet
With Pun and Ja you was the first to call me
I never told you but you was there for me
Whatever you need, I'll be there for you
Crack - I got ya back for real (True story)
[Bridge]
[Jennifer:]
Now my loyalty, will always be
With you, if you just promise me
That you'll stay real just like you are
'Cause baby you don't have to change (no)
[Chorus]
[Jennifer:]
You don't know how much you mean to me
Whenever you down
You know that you can lean on me
No matter the situation
Boy, I'm gon' hold you down
[Fat Joe:]
You don't know how much you mean to me
Whenever you down
You know that you can lean on me
No matter the situation
Girl, I'm gon' hold you down
[Verse 2]
[Fat Joe:]
2005 Rakim and Jody Watley
Why'd she paint such a picture so perfect
Quite possibly
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song performed by Jennifer Lopez
Added by Lucian Velea
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If Cohen Would
O, Cohen, hear our song of sentiment!
Withdraw thy sordid thoughts from cent. per cent.,
And, for, the sake of Empire, gentle Yid,
Lend us a million quid.
If England's great Financial Houses would
Back up our aspirations as they should,
If we could influence cold £ s. d.
By sentiment and words of loyalty,
What joy - and cash - were ours! Ay, what a loan
We'd gaily spend - if our true aims were known.
How might we proudly flaunt our nationhood!
If Cohen only would.
If uncle owned a little sentiment,
And pondered less upon his much per cent.;
If blind financiers could he made to see
The high cash value of our loyalty,
How they would rush, with many offers rash,
And load us up with piles and piles of cash;
And gladly shower rich gifts upon the land,
Could they but understand!
Behold the grand beginning we have made!
When Empire called us, did we stand afraid?
Nay; but we said, 'We are the proud new land!
And with the nations shall we take our stand.
The arms to guard our shores shall be our own!
If, please, you will assist us with a loan,
We'll teach our foes that their designs are rash!...
Do you advance the cash?'
Alas! he turns a deaf ear to our claims;
For gushing loyalty and noble aims
With Cohen count for poor security.
There is no sentiment in £ s. d.,
For who would search grey London through and through
And hope to find the Sentimental Jew;
Then crave a loan on aspirations? Nay!
'Der bishness vouldn't bay.'
O Cohen, if thine heart we cannot touch,
Then on the old pawn-ticket, say, how much?
Thou wilt advance in cash to guard for thee
Thine old security?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
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Malaysiana - Quirky Hang Tuah Poem
Hang Tuah was
a fake loyalist
to friend, to king
if he was so
insistent on protocol
he should have turned
himself in
to the Sultan
instead of go hiding
Confucius was most
articulate about
absolute royalty
and loyalty
it means if the king
wants you dead
you would gladly do so
at his knees
hang tuah was a quack
if he was so insistent
of killing best friend jebat
who stood up for him
he should have taken
a hard look at his
own loyalty
running away in hiding
that too was punishable
by death by Malacca laws
but it was jebat who
had to take all
kris, blood, dejections
and the bowel churning
falsity of a great friend
and all for his
pure love and blind
loyalty - to a friend
who turned out
to be an opportunist
the greatest losers
first jebat, second
the sultan
the way he was
tuah probably did
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Sex Sleep Eat Drink Dream
Sex sleep eat drink dream
Primal tribal aplle egg vegetable eel
I have a new canoe but it does not have a wheel
Private velvet animal oldsmobile mind
Im sitting in the fireplace burning up my time
Private velvet animal empty t.v.
Theyre fishing in the kitchen
But they havent caught up to me
Primal tribal chemical digital night
Ive got to get dressed to go out of my mind
Sex sleep eat drink dream
song performed by King Crimson
Added by Lucian Velea
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