Citatepedia^®.com

It is impossible to predict the time and progress of revolution. It is governed by its own more or less mysterious laws.

quote by Vladimir Lenin
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Impossible and the Possible.

Poem Title: The struggle to overcome the difference between the Impossible and the Possible
Acrostic Poem 166a

The struggle to overcome the difference between the impossible and the possible.
Hope being the word that springs to mind to link these two opposites to attract.
Eternally wandering Cyber space side by side hooking onto every adjective or verb.

Seeking Impossible causes to take away excuses and make them once more possible.
To overcome the bigoted, blind, self centred mind set of the un-believers.
Reaching corners of the mind that you of Christian or Muslim Faith never thought existed.
Unless you have spent all your life on earth in a cocoon not within real time.
God has chosen you to teach the differences between the Impossible and Possible.
Given that if at first you don`t succeed... You`ll get it right next time.
Love for all your Fellow Men and Women may seem Impossible. Trust me it`s the only way.
Every possibility, has been at sometime within it`s life...seemed Impossible.

Take the making of a silk purse from one sows ear. If you will
Or the finding of a needle in a hay-stack or the abolition of third world hunger and the like.

Or the creation of the Love of Nation unto Nation... The end to all War or domination
Very nearly every single problem has a solution, indeed sometimes many solutions do exist.
Electricity, how unbelievable to the even the wisest man once upon a time thought “impossible”
Radio waves converted into the sweetest sounds ever heard by mortal Man
Communication instant Chat across the Globe in real time ….one to one...”Impossible”
Of loving commitment between different creeds and cultures without ever meeting possible.
Mighty soon God will look down on earth and see the two words rolled into one!
Entreating the Impossible always Possible and the Possible never Impossible.

The struggle to overcome the difference between the Impossible and the Possible.
Holy Holy Holy, Eureka, Glory be! We are getting there, I do believe I really do believe.
Eternally where two Poets or more can get together to speak as one, in one Like-minded.

Difference between the Impossible and the Possible are reduced to nil
In practical terms every metaphor, rhetoric, noun or verb or adjective can be polished.
From the most impossible dream into the possible reality of the finest prose ever written.
From the dullest of dyslectic mutterings to the most flowery of sweetest love songs.
Endlessly tripping from the lips of stranger meeting stranger, wisest verse ever heard.
Re-acting opposites attracting the Impossible with the Possible. Judge for yourselves.
Enacting with the humble Poet that composed this message. You may never chance to meet.
Never in a Thousand years of trying, these chances, sure don't happen every day.
Catch the Impossible catch on the very boundaries of your mind to make a difference.
Every chance that one single catch will win your team the Game.

By making then the Impossible Possible, you have changed in one action the life you have.
Every Impossible thought can then be dismissed from your mind possibly forever
The sun to leave the sky, the rivers all run dry, a baby not to cry ….Impossible.
We have that song within our mind, which keeps our feet upon the ground
Every now and then to be able to accept that all things are not Possible.

[...] Read more

poem by Philip Winchester
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Unrealistic Are These Wishes

Some seek a pot of gold,
At the end of a rainbow...
But,
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict.
Yet...
Kept are unrealistic wishes.
And...
Others seek clouds lined,
With silver to behold.
But,
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict.
Yet...
Kept are unrealistic wishes.

Nothing is impossible to believe.
Or...
Too impossible to receive.
And...
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict,
For...
Anyone who's not a wisher!

Some seek a pot of gold,
At the end of a rainbow...
But,
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict.
Yet...
Kept are unrealistic wishes.
And...
Others seek clouds lined,
With silver to behold.
But,
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict.
Yet...
Kept are unrealistic wishes.

Nothing is impossible to believe.
Or...
Too impossible to receive.
And...
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict,
For...
Anyone who's not a wisher!
And...
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict,
For...
Anyone who's not a wisher!

Unrealistic are these wishes to predict,
For...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Bug

Mother Earth, can you feed us now?
Feed me now, feed me now
Mother Earth, can you see us now?
Hold me down, hold me down
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Mother Earth, can you feed us now?
Burst the bug, be forever loved
Hold me down, you can't hold me down
Break the bones, throw your stones
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
You gotta fight it, you can fight it, no one else will
You gotta fight it, you can fight it, no one else will
You gotta fight it, you can fight it, no one else will
You gotta fight it, you can fight it, no one else will
Feed me now, see me now
Mother Earth, can you see us now?
Throw the stones, throw the stones
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution

song performed by Feeder
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

One Star In The Dirty Window

for the occupiers of Wall Street

One star in the window and that’s enough to see me through the darkness for another night. Trying to weave a flying carpet out of a snakepit. Toxic wavelengths of mind. Poison arrowheads that make it worse to be wounded than killed outright. And all over Perth tonight I imagine there are bruised hearts like mine and yours turning cyanotically blue from having drunk from the same tainted wellsprings of life like fish that have no choice. The apples of October have been laced with the razorblades of Halloween by the psychopathic tree that hands them out like treats to the children in the doorway of an upright coffin. And the leaves are burning up in a fever of arsenic. Spiders work the loom like the strings of the system that hooks us by our gills in its seine nets until the great wild seas of our awareness and the dangerous freedom to look for new ungovernable continents within us so we can flee the corporate corruption of this one is reduced to the neurotic dimensions of a fish farm. If you are poor. If you’re worried about how to pay the rent this month. If it’s winter and there are harpies and sprites and ghouls threatening to turn the gas, the lights, the elements of life off like trolls under the bridge your money built to bilk you until it collapses from lack of repair. If you don’t how you’re going to manage to buy your kid a birthday present this year and you’re even more afraid of Christmas. If you’re poor and your prospects are as bleak as this deserted street tonight now all the ladys-in-waiting, princes, jesters, and warring kings have called it a night and emptied their street court like a bar. If you’re chronically tortured by the rags of dignity with the blood of a lost cause upon them like something that cost your mother and father their lives to fight for. And you’re ashamed of the straitjacket you’ve been forced to wear in order to have some overseer raise a spoon to your lips three exact times of the day like banking hours and GST cheques. If you smoulder with rage like a underground cedar fire burning in your roots like fuses of lightning afraid to explode. If you’re poor. If the weight of the world is on your back heavier than any cross the spiritual spin doctors of the complicit church and their political henchmen encourage you to carry like a virtue all the way to a fabricated heaven on the installment plan, but you can’t bear the load as a volunteer stretcher-bearer anymore, carrying your own corpse to the grave, while they rave in the wealth of what they have deprived you of here and now. If you’re poor. If you feel like a subliminal archetype of guilt in the collective unconscious of a society of quisling theosophists and weight-concscious c.e.o.’s sitting down to salads of money they eat out of the skulls of the children they’ve starved to death. If you don’t make enough money in Oregon to appeal to hypocritic oaths that sit on decisive committees to see if your son is worthy of a kidney transplant. An education. Piano lessons. A future that isn’t always an echo worse than the voices we heard yesterday protesting to the vampires that without a free blood bank they didn’t stand a chance of surviving the contributions they’re expected to make at night. If you’re poor in a chilly apartment in Perth tonight and you’re being eaten alive by the eggs that have been laid on your forehead like the living host to sustain the young of the killer bees that have sewn their nettles in the honey of life like the military-industrial complex of the hive. If you’re poor and you don’t get one year’s free subscription to satellite radio on the bus you have to take to work every morning surrounded by ads for the latest Ford-150 pick up truck ready to do a man’s work at the dropp of a hard hat and then go hunting in the country, and the new black paint is trying to imitate the skin of a naked woman, because your sex life depends on what you drive, and the sumptuary laws of the lies you’re allowed to wear like a Roman triumph are too stringent to get the dirt out of the dowdy greens and browns of your serfdom long enough to get laid by the calendar girls who sit like mermaids on a brand new truck, but have never sung to you. If you’re the poor wretch sitting in the doorway of the Bank of Nova Scotia across Foster Street in the small hours of the morning like a bird that gets to pick the parasites off the back of the hippopotamus that keeps rolling over on you in your sleep. For a fee. To hold up your end of a symbiotic relationship whereby you’re expected to eat shit and call it your daily bread. Eat humiliation, a ration of rat meat, and call it a just portion. Eat your education like bitter food for thought when you see how the fascistic ignorance of antediluvian fat men and their gold-digging wives are dignified by the juke-box of the news as if the point of view of a maggot on how to turn base metal into a gold butterfly it will never become were worthy of the same air time they give to eagles. One hundred news outlets with the same six slug lines like the top hits of the day. Catastrophe du jour. With rescued puppy stories for the trimmings. Eat information like the news. It’s Chinese food of the mind. Not very filling. With a fortune-cookie and a fat tape worm of better things to come wrapped around your bowels like the noose of a downed powerline that spared the cost of the rope to lynch you by your large intestine. If you’re poor and you’re always the falling leaf and never the apple. If you’re poor and it’s always autumn to judge by the banks of junkmail and bills that are swept up on your doorsill at all times of the year. If you’re poor and you’re punished for being out on the streets after curfew for having dropped through the cracks of your caste by a neocon leper colony privatized by the messianic lobbyists of free enterprise with one finger on the scales of equal opportunity because there isn’t a feather’s worth of good in them when they go before the jackal god of death and their grubby hearts are found wanting. If you’re poor and you’re listening to the North Carolina state legislature discussing your extermination in the civic minded tones of the Pied Piper of Hamlin and you’re eating your self-respect like the plague rat of why the rich suffer. Because in their creationist myth your womb is the enemy of the state. And you the infectious carrier of the pestilence. If you’re poor and sitting by the window on a warped floor behind the heritage field stones of an upstairs ghetto apartment in Perth feeling like the second coming of the Irish potato famine with no where to emigrate this time to be third in line below the Scotch and English on the food chain. If you’re poor. Tattoo this on your forehead like an Egyptian destiny you and your eyes will live to see fulfilled. It’s not your fault. Even if you’ve given up. Even if you’re gaping like zero, like absolute nothing, between two hissing sibilants of a serpentine medical symbol unravelling. And the dragon’s lost its wings. And the physician doesn’t care enough to heal himself because he’s lost his faith in oaths. Or dangerous hope has given way to futile despair and they’re both siblings of the absurd. It’s not your fault that you were born into a society where even the mirages in this desert of stars are bundled and sold like real estate. That illusions and diseases apply for patents of ownership. That even the constellations have become the work of surveyors not shepherds on a hillside and the poor are being foreclosed and evicted from the signs of the zodiac because they can’t pay the rent or the mortgage on the house they were born into. Or the hydro on the stars. Even if your spinal cord tinkles like the burnt out filament of a dead lightbulb and the shining’s gone out. It’s not your fault if the universe that was airlifted to you at birth as your portion of life with nothing missing was intercepted and sold at prices that eat their own on the black market of free enterprise for the poor, or they couldn’t afford it, and socialism for the rich because they couldn’t survive without you. You might be like the sea in the lowest place of all but all things flow like rivers down into you. And the depth of the valley of shadows and death you’re walking through alone is a function of the height of the mountain that digs it like a grave it will be buried in. When all the grains of sand like stars come together they make a sea of waves where life thrives in the here and now spontaneously not a pyramid for the sake of a single capstone whose happy afterlife is founded on quicksand.
Saw a huge spiderweb once under a streetlamp at Carleton University thirty-six years ago. Six spiders, their abdomens obese as lightbulbs, six tumours ripening on the panicked cells and neural networks of more frenzied insects drawn to the light out of the dark than their webs were meant to accommodate. The webs were ripping under the weight of the horrified fruits of their gluttony stuck in the powerlines like kites and running shoes and treacherous parachutes. The dew spangled veils of the morning were being torn off like consumerist dream catchers to entice the mob to the artificial radiance of the light that drove them crazy. But the spiders were too satiate to move. And they were being pulled down along with their prey under the massive superflux of their immensely successful catastrophe. Pleonaxia. The disease of more and more and more. And all the insects had to do because the conglomerate spiders were too immobilized by the obscenity of their gigantism to stick an ice-pick in the back of Trotsky’s neck in Cuba was to keep a cool enough head to extricate themselves puppet string by puppet string, spinal cord by spinal cord, straitjacket by straitjacket, wing by wing from the web. But most were paralyzed by their own fear waiting for the fatal moment of the ruinous agenda to come like a budget cutting knife to end their nightmare. And after all these years that terrible insight still provides me with blood-freezing metaphors into the present economic system that preys upon the poor by beading the foodchain with black thoraxes as if they were the ninety-nine names of God and it were a rosary we could all say our novinas on pleading for more lifeboats and happier lifelines than the rigging of this ship of state that’s going down with all of us aboard as the captains of industry jump like rats in Genoa back into the year 1348 when there were corpses galore to feed on.
If you’re poor. Come to the revolution but leave your guillotine at home. Come to the revolution but leave Lenin in Geneva. Come to the revolution like Wat Tyler but don’t believe the promises of the king. Come to the revolution like Spartacus but don’t put your faith in pirates to provide you with the means of escape. Come to the revolution like Toussaint L’Ouverture in Haiti but first drive the fer de lance out of your sugar-cane so that no innocent bystanders get bit as an off-handed matter of population control. Come to the revolution like Aung San Suu Kyi ready to sit down in the teahouses of Burma to pry the fingers of the junta off the throats of the people like the petals of a flower whose time has come to let go. Come to the revolution like Ghandi walking all the way to the sea to turn the pillars of British imperialism to salt without all the fire and brimstone of Sodom and Gomorrah. Come like him to the revolution as a leader who knew how to follow his people. Come to the revolution like Helen Keller who stood up to the Rupert Murdochs of the age who were more in need of signage than she was on behalf of the rights of the working people and declared Oh, ridiculous Brooklyn Eagle! What an ungallant bird it is! Socially blind and deaf, it defends a system that’s intolerable. The Eagle and I are at war. Come to the revolution like Nelson Mandela to an international rugby match in the uniform of a Springbok scrum half to show that over-rated hatred can’t make a comeback over the jubilation of people in play with one another in time enough to win. Come to the revolution like Victor Jara and the Chilean art brigades and bring that guitar and that voice he left us that you’ve been wanting to play for decades with a compassionate feel for the sorrows of others right down to the tips of your social democratic fingerprints as if you weren’t born too late to celebrate a lost cause with a Cinderella story right out the social pages of the mid-sixties into the front page slug lines of msnbc news today. And remember it’s better to sing sincerely than well when you’ve got Bob Dylan for a voice coach. Come to the revolution like Tuwakal Karman of Yemen like the first coffee flower of the Arab Spring to raise her voice against Ali Abdullah Saleh in the name of human rights and freedom of expression. Come to the revolution like Martin Luther to the church door in Wittenburg and post your thirty-three articles of protest but don’t think because you throw inkwells at the devil that’s the same as writing your name in blood on the marble of Wall Street or a war memorial for the dead of Vietnam. Come like George Washington to the American Revolution ready to lay your power down as a sign of complete victory over what satisfies the industrial complexity of the generals’ hearts. Come like Barack Obama to the wellsprings of a cleaner watershed than that which flowed like the corrupt ditches of the tainted bloodstreams of Eden like the four rivers of the running sores of the trickle down economics of the political food chain that ran before him for office by putting a carrot in front of a donkey and all your eggs in one basket in front of a rampaging elephant. Come to the revolution like Emmeline Pankhurst to a hunger strike in a game of cat and mouse with the government who’ll catch you and let you go to fatten you up and keep you from being force fed before they arrest you again for throwing your weight around like Emily Davison at the king’s horse in the name of wanting to run like a candidate at the same race track without the handicap of not being able to vote. Come to the revolution like Dolores Jiminez y Muro with a political plan to give Emiliano Zapata a Mexican classroom of political reform worth dying for. If you’re poor, as Kurt Cobain said, come as you are. And if Jesus doesn’t want you for a sunbeam then come as a cloud. Come as a mountain. Come as a full eclipse of the moon or a loveletter that someone sent back or come as seven come eleven and trust in your luck when the dice are not loaded like skulls with no eyes against you.

poem by Patrick White
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Love Revolution

This is gettin old baby
Time for a real change
Time to turn our whole world around
cause I been getting restless now
Wondering whats up between you and me
Is gettin me down
Weve been hangin on for far too long
Somehow everything went wrong
Were in a place we dont belong anymore
You know that its true baby
So Ill see you around
Just walk away until you can make
A love revolution (love revolution)
And come back to me
Just do whatever it takes
Whatever you need to make
A love revolution (love revolution)
For you baby, for me baby
I said love, love revolution
I said love, love revolution
Hey Im not afraid to change
Inside and out baby
With or without you by my side
Its time to scream and shout
Let all these feelings out
Find out whats happening inside
Take away the borders inside your head
And youll see other things instead
Realize the life weve led is all over now
You know that its true baby
So Ill see you around
Just walk away until you can make
A love revolution (love revolution)
And come back to me
Just do whatever it takes
Whatever you need to make
A love revolution (love revolution)
For you baby, for me baby
I said love, love revolution
I said love, love revolution
If were gonna turn the world around
Its time that we get down to it
If were gonna turn the world around
Its time that we get down to it
Now I know that theres another way
And Im not waiting one more day
To make love revolution
For you baby, for me baby
And I wanna be around
When your walls come tumbling down

[...] Read more

song performed by Belinda Carlisle
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Revolution Calling

For a price Id do about anything
Except pull the trigger
For that Id need a pretty good cause
Then I heard of dr. x
The man with the cure
Just watch the television
Yeah, youll see theres something going on
Got no love for politicians
Or that crazy scene in d.c.
Its just a power mad town
But the time is ripe for changes
Theres a growing feeling
That taking a chance on a new kind of vision is due
I used to trust the media
To tell me the truth, tell us the truth
But now Ive seen the payoffs
Everywhere I look
Who do you trust when everyones a crook?
Revolution calling
Revolution calling
Revolution calling you
[theres a] revolution calling
Revolution calling
Gotta make a change
Gotta push, gotta push it on through
Im tired of all this bullshit
They keep selling me on t.v.
About the communist plan
And all the shady preachers
Begging for my cash
Swiss bank accounts while giving their
Secretaries the slam
Theyre all in penthouse now
Or playboy magazine, million dollar stories to tell
I guess warhol wasnt wrong
Fame fifteen minutes long
Everyones using everybody, making the sale
I used to think
That only americas way, way was right
But now the holy dollar rules everybodys lives
Gotta make a million doesnt matter who dies
Revolution calling
Revolution calling
Revolution calling you
[theres a] revolution calling
Revolution calling
Gotta make a change
Gotta push, gotta push it on through
I used to trust the media
To tell me the truth, tell us the truth

[...] Read more

song performed by Queensryche
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part III.

Much malice, mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ;
Because the muse has peopled Caledon
With panthers, bears, and wolves, and beasts unknown,
As if we were not stocked with monsters of our own.
Let Æsop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blamed a British lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wonted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let those remember, that she cannot die,
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaimed;
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watched the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met;
Meanwhile she quenched her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten salad cooled her blood.
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
To express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturbed the friendly meal.
She turned the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which tossed the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own children's fate.
Nor failed she then a full review to make
Of what the Panther suffered for her sake;
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy,
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged;
Then with acknowledgments herself she charged;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.
Now should they part, malicious tongues would say,
They met like chance companions on the way,

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Revolution

More calm than a heartbeat that flat lines
Quiet like a dark street under the moonlight
A phrase of action that's been screamed from the guts of men
Ever since they're first experienced
Injustice, prejudice, discrimination
A word louder than a gunshot
And softer than a baby's laugh, it will pass
Just like it always has. Until it spits off the lips of
The next man who's had it up to here.
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution
solution
not the first or the last to imagine it
Acknowledge the concepts, question and grasp it
Rebel against the I, and bring down the self.
Mutiny me! overthrow you
Rebellion starts within, the time is now
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution, solution
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution
Your Revolution
Purple skies, Devil eyes, Hypnotize
Little lies, Compromise, Fireflies
Samurias, Parasite, Fly by night, After light, Materialize,
Look alive, Stereotype, Do with die, lullaby, black and white
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head? your revolution
Is that what it takes to make a solution, solution, your revolution
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or at least it's been said, your revolution
Is that what it takes to make a solution?
Your Revolution
No resolution -Your Revolution
what's your solution? -Your Revolution
And no substitution -Your Revolution
And no resolution -Your Revolution
not your solution

song performed by P.O.D.
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

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
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Revolution

Intro(bob marley)
Within 2000 years christ shall return and when I return I goin to be king of
Kings...
Marley brothers
Thats rev...thats rev...thats rev...thats rev...
Krayzie get up...my soldiers, ride...
Bob marley
Revolution in my heart/ oh, they tearin us apart/ we been wastin so much time/
Revolution on
My mind/ everyday problems in the world they maximize/ now tell me how much
Blood must be shed, oh realize things
And times get drastic; a revolution is the only way/ stop this internal warfare,
Yeah...
Marley brothers thats rev...thats for the revolution {repeatedly}
Bob marley roll in a bomb-drop cry...soldiers all positions.
Krayzie
I wanna talk about a revolution/ should we talk about a revolution, a
Revolution? come on, I think its time
Its already 1999/ this is real; we ready for revolution/ we said that we tired,
We ready tonight, and we gon ride, ride, ride
With the warriors; we makin a push on babylon the great, better hurry up/ we
Doin it like that; combat on contact
So the police get bombed back/ that gunpowder from my gun got my palms black/ as
We roll and we hit up the rest we chase
The police; we done flipped the script and set a new record/ we send em to
Fire, to flames, we heat and we hot/ cussin
While they flossin shots/ marchin double barrels buckin/ mark the target,
Aint for talkin/ squashin every enemy walkin
And bomb em/ we need to suit up in boots/ recruit us some troops to start
Mashin/ Im packin my sawed off and Im called off
Im called off...
Bob marley
Revolution on my mind(krayzie yeah) we been wastin so much time/ revolution in
My heart/ they been tearin us apart
Everyday problems in the world they maximize/ and tell me how much blood must be
Shed, oh realize things and times get
Drastic/ a revolution is the only way/ stop this internal warfare, yeah...
Marley brothers thats rev...thats for the revolution {repeatedly}
Bob marley soldiers all positions...green beret cover formation....roll in a
Bomb-drop cry and bomb down that institution
Krayzie get up...my soldiers, ride...
Marley brothers thats rev...thats for the revolution {repeatedly}
Bob marley soldiers all positions...green beret cover formation

song performed by Krayzie Bone
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Revolution (feat. The Marley Brothers)

Intro(Bob Marley)
Within 2000 years Christ shall return "and when I return I goin' to be king of
kings...
Marley Brothers
That's rev...that's rev...that's rev...that's rev...
Krayzie Get up...my soldiers, ride...
Bob Marley
Revolution in my heart/ Oh, they tearin' us apart/ We been wastin' so much time/
Revolution on
my mind/ Everyday problems in the world they maximize/ Now tell me how much
blood must be shed, oh realize things
And times get drastic; A revolution is the only way/ Stop this internal warfare,
yeah...
Marley Brothers That's rev...That's for the revolution {repeatedly}
Bob Marley Roll in a bomb-drop cry...Soldiers all positions.
Krayzie
I wanna talk about a revolution/ Should we talk about a revolution, a
revolution? Come on, I think it's time
It's already 1999/ This is real; we ready for revolution/ We said that we tired,
we ready tonight, and we gon' ride, ride, ride
With the warriors; We makin' a push on Babylon The Great, better hurry up/ We
doin' it like that; combat on contact
So the police get bombed back/ That gunpowder from my gun got my palms black/ As
we roll and we hit up the rest we chase
the police; we done flipped the script and set a new record/ We send 'em to
fire, to flames, we heat and we hot/ Cussin'
while they flossin' shots/ Marchin' double barrels buckin'/ Mark the target,
ain't for talkin'/ Squashin' every enemy walkin'
And bomb 'em/ We need to suit up in boots/ Recruit us some troops to start
mashin'/ I'm packin' my sawed off and I'm called off
I'm called off...
Bob Marley
Revolution on my mind(Krayzie Yeah) We been wastin' so much time/ Revolution in
my heart/ They been tearin' us apart
Everyday problems in the world they maximize/ And tell me how much blood must be
shed, oh realize things and times get
drastic/ A revolution is the only way/ Stop this internal warfare, yeah...
Marley Brothers That's rev...That's for the revolution {repeatedly}
Bob Marley Soldiers all positions...Green Beret cover formation....Roll in a
bomb-drop cry and bomb down that institution
Krayzie Get up...my soldiers, ride...
Marley Brothers That's rev...That's for the revolution {repeatedly}
Bob Marley Soldiers all positions...Green Beret cover formation

song performed by Krayzie Bone
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Tear Off Your Own Head (It's A Doll Revolution)

Who dries your eyes when you cry real tears?
Who knows or cares what imitation is?
Only you do
You can paint his nails
Make him wear high heels
Why waste time altering the hemline?
Or do you?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
You can bat your lashes
You can cut your strings
Pull out his hair with your moveable fingers
It looks so real
But one won't do, so collect the set
Dress him in pink ribbons
Put him in a kitchenette
How does this feel?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
You can pull and pinch him
'Til he cries and squeals
You can twist his body
'Til it faces backwards
Plastic features
Could make somebody a pretty little wife
But don't let anybody tell you
How to live your life
Broken pieces
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
It's a doll revolution
Revolution (revolution)

[...] Read more

song performed by Bangles
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Never Never Love

La-la-la-la-la,
La-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la,
La-la-la-la-la
So now weve got our independence ooh,
What are we gonna do with it
Learning to play different games
Already using different names
cause now our love bears no resemblance ooh,
To what we had before
When our love was good it was all that we saw
When our love was good it blinded us before
This real revolution baby
Where youre not below me anymore
Never never love
Can never be enough
Never be enough,
Just aint good enough,
Yeah never never love
Can never be enough now
Never be enough, oh no
So now weve got our independence ooh,
What are we gonna with it
Building the houses, claiming back the land
Burning the bridges, cleaning up your hands
cause now our love bears no resemblance ooh,
To what we had before
Now our love has something for the future
Now our love will grow the seeds to sow this real revolution
This good revolution baby
Where youre not below me anymore
Never never love will never be enough
Could never be enough,
Just aint good enough,
Yeah never never
Love will never be enough
Never be enough, oh no no no
La-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la
When our love is good we have something for the future
Now our love will grow the seeds to sow this real revolution
This good revolution baby where youre not below me anymore
(real revolution, yeah) oh yeah, oh no no no no no,
Its a (real revolution) so good oh no no no no no
(real revolution, yeah) so real, this revolution now
(real revolution) so real, this revolution now, oh no no no so real, so real oh no no no

song performed by Simply Red
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

It's Impossible

It's impossible to tell the sun to leave the sky,
It's just impossible.
It's impossible to ask a baby not to cry,
It's just impossible.
Can I hold you closer to me
And not feel you going through me,
But the second that I never think of you?
Oh, how impossible.
Can the ocean keep from rushing to the shore?
It's just impossible.
If I had you could I ever ask for more?
It's just impossible.
And tomorrow, should you ask me for the world
Somehow I'd get it, I would sell my very soul
And not regret it for to live without your love
Is just impossible
Can the ocean keep from rushing to the shore?
It's just impossible.
If I had you could I ever ask for more?
It's just impossible.
And tomorrow, should you ask me for the world
Somehow I'd get it, I would sell my very soul
And not regret it for to live without your love
Is just impossible
Oh impossible,
Impossible.
Impossible.

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Revolution 1993

(this is one of my favorites, listen to the drums, and both flute and trumpet solos)
Written by jay kay and toby smith
Yes youve got to stand up, stay strong, start moving in the right direction,
Dont wait too long, for people promising divine intervention
Nineteen nine three, now Im taking matters into my own hands
So fast, I cant see
A revolution is the only way we can change, change, change
I wanna fight the power!
Well its hard times, white lines,kids of nine getting down with gun crime
War zones, no homes, aint it the time we gave the dog a bone
Say brothers, sisters, get up and put yourself in the picture
This time you know a revolution is the only way we can change, change, change
I want to fight the power!
Question, answer, shake your hand and smile for the camera
But its no good you should spend time in your neighbourhood
Where black kids, white kids
Now youre working overtime to be a crack kid
No job, no cash,
A revolution is the only way we can change, change, change
I wanna fight the power!
Still we dont seem to understand we need a revolution,
Everubody wants a revolution
Now who is this man, Im having trouble knowing where Im coming from
Pre-conceptions, its eternal human infection
One chance, learn how youre gonna change the habit of a lifetime my soul, concerned,
That revolution is the only way that we can change, change, change
I wanna fight the power!
Higher, higher, now were gonna learn how to fight the power
Sunshine, new day, I only know how to go to the right way
Faster, stronger I help my brother and my soul lives longer
Blinded I cant see
A revolution is the only way that we can change, change, change
I wanna fight the power!
No doubt in time, everything is sweet sunshine but in the
Meantime, mankind is having trouble where to draw the line
We still dont, respect, and yet I thought we had intellect
Sometimes I think the music is the only hope we have for revolution
Still we dont seem to understand we need a revolution
Everybody needs a revolution!

song performed by Jamiroquai
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Children Of The Revolution

You can bump and grind.
Have a good time.
You can twist and shout.
Let it all hang out,
But you wont fool the children of the revolution.
No you wont fool the children of the revolution.
You can tell a plane, in the falling rain.
I gotta rolls royce,
Cause its good for my voice,
But you wont fool the children of the revolution.
No you wont fool the children of the revolution.
You can bump and grind.
Feeling fine.
You can twist and shout.
Knock yourself out, but you wont fool the children of the revolution.
No you wont fool the children of the revolution.
No you cant fool the children of the revolution.
No you wont fool the children of the revolution.
No you cant fool the children of the revolution.
No you wont fool the children of the revolution.
You can bump and grind, have a good time.
You can bump and grind, have a good time.
Bump and grind, have a good time.
Written by marc bolan
wizard (bahamas) ltd. ascap

song performed by Violent Femmes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Children Of The Revolution

You can bump and grind.
Have a good time.
You can twist and shout.
Let it all hang out,
But you wont fool the children of the revolution.
No you wont fool the children of the revolution.
You can tell a plane, in the falling rain.
I gotta rolls royce,
Cause its good for my voice,
But you wont fool the children of the revolution.
No you wont fool the children of the revolution.
You can bump and grind.
Feeling fine.
You can twist and shout.
Knock yourself out, but you wont fool the children of the revolution.
No you wont fool the children of the revolution.
No you cant fool the children of the revolution.
No you wont fool the children of the revolution.
No you cant fool the children of the revolution.
No you wont fool the children of the revolution.
You can bump and grind, have a good time.
You can bump and grind, have a good time.
Bump and grind, have a good time.
Written by marc bolan
wizard (bahamas) ltd. ascap

song performed by Violent Femmes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A Time To Feel Forlorn and Reconstruct What's Torn

There's a designated time in the universe for everything:

A time to limit, a time to expand.
A time to rise, time to lower and lend a hand.

A time to maintain, a time to abandon.
A time to develop, a time to rest at random.

A time to communicate, a time for silence.
A time to kiss your enemy, a time to concede wins.

A time to spite, a time to please.
A time for respite, a time to tease.

A time to process, a time to confess.
A time to do more. A time to do less.

A time to dominate. A time to captivate.
A time to plunge. A time to resurface straight.

A time to maximise. A time to minimise.
A time to diminish. A time to optimise.

A time to sacrifice. time to insist on rights.
A time to be selfish. A time to be concerned about plights.

A time to be big. A time to be small.
A time to care for a special one. A time to love all.

A time to add dimension. A time to simplify.
A time to advocate egalitarianism.
A time to exult.
A time to default.
A time to be accepting of imperfect humanism.

A time to enhance. A time to simplify.
A time to criticise. A time to dignify.

A time to produce. A time to use.
A time to relent. A time to refuse.

A time to demand. A time to give.
A time to die. a time to live.

A time to survive. A time to admit defeat.
A time to lie. A time to walk on your feet.

A time to compete. A time to not.
A time to remember. A time to concede you forgot.

[...] Read more

poem by Hercolena Oliver
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Inner Voice - Conscience

Laws on earth can be made, unmade;
Laws can be bettered or worsened by change;
Laws may be just or unjust and never perfect;
Laws can be changed for comfort and convenience.

Laws may change from time to time;
Laws cannot reflect truth always;
Laws depend on the constituent makers;
Laws can never be ideal for all times!

But the inner Voice -the Conscience is static;
It always speaks the truth irrevocably;
It is not transmutable anytime;
It can never lie ever even by chance.

The Inner Voice scores over laws always;
One's conscience always tells what is right;
Freedom of man's conscience is paramount;
Laws to stifle the Inner Voice are simply futile!

Laws are needed but must be just and fair;
Laws aren't needed to fetter the conscience;
Laws are man-made and transmutable;
Conscience is God-given, remaining the same in everyone!

Obey the laws when they are fair and just;
Heed to your Conscience, God's law-maker within!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 14-02-12

poem by John Celes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Mysterious

Key:-a - anita r - ray
A: no way of controlling my body; mysterious
You touch me that way, my souls of above
When we say goodbye
Theres now turning back for love
R: now I think its time to make the floor burn!
A: no way of controlling my body; mysterious
You touch me that way, my souls of above
When we say goodbye
Theres now turning back for love
R: cant you see now what I am saying
The beat is rough and I aint playing
Mysterious things we like to know
Secret things that you never showed
A vision of something youre driving for
You gave me the key and I opened the door
Theres something between us, you and me
cause your love is like a unsolved mystery
A: a mystery is what you are to me
R: you keep me guessing, I feel like stressing
All the time yeah you blow my mind
I dont know what I am searching for
Everytime youre around, youre asking for more
Im interested to know what you are all about
Youre the only on without a doubt
Youve got me acting so delirious
Everything about you girl; mysterious
R: something you want to figure out but you dont know how? mysterious
R: you move mysterious
You look mysterious
You are mysterious
So mysterious
A: no way of controlling my body; mysterious
You touch me that way, my souls of above
When we say goodbye
Theres now turning back for
No way of controlling my body; mysterious
You touch me that way, my souls of above
When we say goodbye
Theres now turning back for
R: love

song performed by 2 Unlimited
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!