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The more the division of labor and the application of machinery extend, the more does competition extend among the workers, the more do their wages shrink together.

quote by Karl Marx
Added by Lucian Velea
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They Live In Division

People of ignorance take no time to learn,
But rush to judgement to incite a fighting done...
Dawn after dawn and after many midnights.
They live in division.
People.

People of ignorance initiate hate.
With a wasting of time to find themselves,
Replaced.
By the acts of Mother Nature.
And the reality of this no one claims is faked.

Then people in this condition expect overnight,
Their self-centered appetites...
To be restored as they would like.
Even when the winds have broken tree limbs.
They live in division.

Even when God wants division to end,
They live in division.
People...
To even ignore every message sent,
They live in division.
People...
Stuck in ruts like nuts cracked up,
They live in division.
People...
Even when the winds have broken tree limbs.
They live in division.

People of ignorance initiate hate.
With a wasting of time to find themselves,
Replaced.
By the acts of Mother Nature.
And the reality of this no one claims is faked.
But...
Even when the winds have broken tree limbs.
They live in division.
People...
To even ignore every message sent,
They live in division.
People...
Stuck in ruts like nuts cracked up,
They live in division.
People...
Stuck in ruts like nuts cracked up,
They live in division.
People...
They live in division.
People...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wages Of Sin

When we fight and I wanna talk it out
You wont say nothing, nothing at all
You just sit there, you wont open that pretty mouth
I think you like keeping my back up against the wall
Wages of sin, you keep me paying
Wages of sin for wrongs that Ive done
Wages of sin, you keep me paying
Wages of sin, one by one
I walk in the apartment, theres clothes thrown all over the place
Youre crouched in the corner with makeup running down your face
I dont wanna believe what my heart keeps saying
You keep me on the line so you can keep me paying
Wages of sin, we keep paying
Wages of sin for the wrongs that weve done
Wages of sin, we keep paying
Wages of sin, thats how we have our fun
I remember when I was a little boy out where the cottonwoods grow tall
Trying to make it home through the forest before the darkness falls
Baby all the sounds I heard, even if they werent real
I was running down that broken path with the devil snapping at my heels
I tried so hard, so hard in every way
Swore someday Id grow up, just throw it all away
Cried all the tears, baby, that I could cry
Stomached all my fears till they came rushin up inside
Darlin Im losin and its a mean game
Still I play on and on just the same
Wages of sin, I keep paying
Wages of sin for some wrong that Ive done
Wages of sin, well I keep paying
Wages of sin, one by one

song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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To Arms!

World! to arms!
Do you shrink?
What! shrink when the hoofs of the Cossack are crushing
The bosom of mother, the tonsure of priest,
And the youth of a nation, pain-maddened, is rushing
On visible doom, as to tourney or feast?
When the savagest hell-hounds that ever existed
Are hunting the tender and brave of our race,
And the lash of the insolent Tartar is twisted
With mock of defiance, and cracked in your face-
Do you shrink?

World! to arms!
Do you shrink, gallant France, when the blood of a nation,
Ne'er stinted for you, for itself flows in vain?
Aroused by the might of a grand inspiration,
Avenge with your war-clang the souls of the slain.
If you shrink, may you never know ending or respite
To strife internecine and factional hate,
Except when the hand of liberticide despot
Imposes on all one opprobrious fate!
France! to arms!

Do you shrink?
You! politic Austria! now that you only,
If feebly you hesitate, hasten your doom-
Have you yet not discovered that, selfish and lonely,
An Empire but marches blindfold to the tomb?
Let a penitent sword in sublime vindication
Of Freedom its manifold mischiefs undo:
If you shrink, may the multiplied wrongs of each nation
You ever have outraged be hurled back on you!
Do you shrink?

World! to arms!
O my beautiful Italy! nought of misgiving
Doth trouble the summons that touches your pride;
The graves of your slaughtered are fresh, but your living
Are throbbing to conquer, or sleep at their side.
By your maidens equipped, in whose beauty exult you,
Your sons must make ready with pennon and sheen
To go straight. If you shrink-but I will not insult you,
Who, often unfortunate, never were mean.
Then, to arms!

World! to arms!
Do you shrink?
Shrink! England! what! shrink when intoxicate Tartar,
Deriding your wrath, rides in blood to the waist?
When the flesh of the virgin, the bones of the martyr,

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Austin
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Blue Collar Workers

Blue collar workers feeling used.
And being replaced,
By a robotic hasted pace.

Blue collar workers feeling used,
And moved...
From an assembled human touch,
To programmed computers...
More effective as tools.

Blue collar workers feeling used,
And moved...
From positions that were sacrificed,
To improve what they do.
Automated are these times,
And cheap labor too!

Booted by computers that leave nothing to do,
For the blue collar workers,
Feeling used and abused.

Delete.
Don't need.
Delete.
Don't need.

Booted by computers that leave nothing to do,
For the blue collar workers,
Feeling used and abused.

Blue collar workers feeling used,
And moved...
From positions that were sacrificed,
To improve what they do.
Automated are these times,
And cheap labor too!

Delete.
Don't need.
Delete.
Don't need.

Booted by computers that leave nothing to do,
For the blue collar workers,
Feeling used and abused.

Delete.
Don't need.
Delete.
Don't need.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stiff Competition

Stiff competition
If i go up-you take me higher
Stiff competition
And when i'm down- you take me higher
There's stiff competition all over the world
I screw you-you screw me-they screw us
Here we go again
Oh- but we have so much fun, so much fun
When we're together
When we're together
When we're together-now
I looked hard in your eyes
It was love at first sight
It took me minutes-you're still waiting
Waiting for your turn, you turn
It won't be long
Stiff competition
I work hard-every day of my life
Stiff competition
Get it up-you take me higher
Stiff competition
All over the world
The more i get- the more i like it
The bigger they are- the harder they fall
Again
Stiff competition
Stiff competition
Stiff competition
Stiff competition

song performed by Cheap Trick
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Vision Of Columbus - Book 9

Now, round the yielding canopy of shade,
Again the Guide his heavenly power display'd.
Sudden, the stars their trembling fires withdrew,
Returning splendors burst upon the view;
Floods of unfolding light the skies adorn,
And more than midday glories grace the morn.
So shone the earth, as all the starry train,
Broad as full suns, had sail'd the ethereal plain;
When no distinguish'd orb could strike the sight,
But one clear blaze of all-surrounding light
O'erflow'd the vault of heaven. For now, in view
Remoter climes and future ages drew;
While deeds of happier fame, in long array,
Call'd into vision, fill the new-born day.
Far as the Angelic Power could lift the eye,
Or earth, or ocean bend the yielding sky;
Or circling suns awake the breathing gale,
Drake lead the way, or Cook extend the sail;
All lands, all seas, that boast a present name,
And all that unborn time shall give to fame,
Around the chief in fair expansion rise,
And earth's whole circuit bounds the level'd skies.
He saw the nations tread their different shores,
Ply their own toils and claim their local powers.
He mark'd what tribes still rove the savage waste,
What happier realms the sweets of plenty taste;
Where arts and virtues fix their golden reign,
Or peace adorns, or slaughter dyes the plain.
He saw the restless Tartar, proud to roam,
Move with his herds, and spread his transient home;
Thro' the vast tracts of China's fixt domain,
The sons of dull contentment plough the plain;
The gloomy Turk ascends the blood-stain'd car,
And Russian banners shade the plains of war;
Brazilia's wilds and Afric's burning sands
With bickering strife inflame the furious bands;
On blest Atlantic isles, and Europe's shores,
Proud wealth and commerce heap their growing stores,
While his own western world, in prospect fair,
Calms her brave sons, now breathing from the war,
Unfolds her harbours, spreads the genial soil,
And welcomes freemen to the cheerful toil.
When thus the Power. In this extended view,
Behold the paths thy changing race pursue.
See, thro' the whole, the same progressive plan,
That draws, for mutual succour, man to man,
From friends to tribes, from tribes to realms ascend,
Their powers, their interests and their passions blend;
Adorn their manners, social virtues spread,
Enlarge their compacts and extend their trade;

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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The Columbiad: Book X

The vision resumed, and extended over the whole earth. Present character of different nations. Future progress of society with respect to commerce; discoveries; inland navigation; philosophical, med and political knowledge. Science of government. Assimilation and final union of all languages. Its effect on education, and on the advancement of physical and moral science. The physical precedes the moral, as Phosphor precedes the Sun. View of a general Congress from all nations, assembled to establish the political harmony of mankind. Conclusion.

Hesper again his heavenly power display'd,
And shook the yielding canopy of shade.
Sudden the stars their trembling fires withdrew.
Returning splendors burst upon the view,
Floods of unfolding light the skies adorn,
And more than midday glories grace the morn.
So shone the earth, as if the sideral train,
Broad as full suns, had sail'd the ethereal plain;
When no distinguisht orb could strike the sight,
But one clear blaze of all-surrounding light
O'erflow'd the vault of heaven. For now in view
Remoter climes and future ages drew;
Whose deeds of happier fame, in long array,
Call'd into vision, fill the newborn day.

Far as seraphic power could lift the eye,
Or earth or ocean bend the yielding sky,
Or circling sutis awake the breathing gale,
Drake lead the way, or Cook extend the sail;
Where Behren sever'd, with adventurous prow,
Hesperia's headland from Tartaria's brow;
Where sage Vancouvre's patient leads were hurl'd,
Where Deimen stretch'd his solitary world;
All lands, all seas that boast a present name,
And all that unborn time shall give to fame,
Around the Pair in bright expansion rise,
And earth, in one vast level, bounds the skies.

They saw the nations tread their different shores,
Ply their own toils and wield their local powers,
Their present state in all its views disclose,
Their gleams of happiness, their shades of woes,
Plodding in various stages thro the range
Of man's unheeded but unceasing change.
Columbus traced them with experienced eye,
And class'd and counted all the flags that fly;
He mark'd what tribes still rove the savage waste,
What cultured realms the sweets of plenty taste;
Where arts and virtues fix their golden reign,
Or peace adorns, or slaughter dyes the plain.

He saw the restless Tartar, proud to roam,
Move with his herds and pitch a transient home;
Tibet's long tracts and China's fixt domain,
Dull as their despots, yield their cultured grain;
Cambodia, Siam, Asia's myriad isles
And old Indostan, with their wealthy spoils

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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The world/Svijet

the world multiplied by division
the world multiplied by division
the world the world multiplied by
division multiplied the world
multiplied by division by division
the the world the world multiplied
by division the multiplied world
by division world multiplied by division

svijet dijeljenjem umnozen
svijet dijeljenjem umnozen
svijet svijet dijeljenjem umnozen svijet
dijeljenjem umnozen dijeljenjem um
svijet d svijet dijeljenjem umnozen
dijeljenjem svijet dijeljenjem umnozen
svijet dijeljenjem svijet
dijeljenjem umnozen umnozen

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Saying the unspeakable

Such as President Obama
may not say it; but I
who am nobody, may speak it:

the God of many names and One
does not wish division;
you and I (there are no others?)
do not wish division;
who makes division?

Why do all seek an ‘enemy’?
The dispossessed invent an enemy
on whom to blame their plight;

the rich invent an enemy
to excuse their greed;

those who worship God under one name
make enemy of those who worship God
under another name;

even those who worship God under the same name
make sects in order to invent an enemy;

is it because it is easier
to make an enemy than a friend?

is it easier to fear
than to love?

is it easier to hate
than to love?

is it easier to count to two
than think of three or one?

do we feel more powerful
if we have an enemy?

and now we fire at enemies
invisible beyond the horizon..

are enemies more attractive
to our life than friends?

Tell me, poets, tell me, sages;
tell me, saints; oh tell me God;

tell me, arithmeticians:
when division multiplies

[...] Read more

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Nuclear Is Safe? No They Lied To You

A list of non classified nuclear disasters
chalk one up for Chalk River Canada
rating 5 a “reactor shutoff rod failure,

combined with several operator errors,
led to a major power excursion of more
than double the reactor's rated output
at AECL's NRX reactor” then a big deal.1952

Entrant two Windscale Pile United Kingdom
rating 5 a “Release of radioactive material to
the environment following a fire in a reactor
core.” Toast a good year for nuclear disasters.1957

graphite core of a British nuclear “[weapons
programme] reactor at Windscale, Cumberland
(now Sellafield, Cumbria) caught fire, releasing
substantial amounts of radioactive contamination
into the surrounding area.” Radioactive fire.

A warm welcome to entrant three. Kyshtym
Russia rating 6 a “Significant release of
radioactive material to the environment
from explosion of a high activity waste tank.” 1957

Please all welcome contestant one back
Chalk River Canada (rating?) “Due to
inadequate cooling a damaged uranium
fuel rod caught fire and was torn in two.” 1958

Champagne pops cheer another good year
Vinč a Yugoslavia (rating?) “During
a subcritical counting experiment a power
buildup went undetected - six scientists
received high doses.” What detailed detail? 1958

Applause please for our first American entry
Santa Susana Field Laboratory US (rating?)
“Partial core meltdown.” Sounds serious.
Tick one deep operations public cover up.1959

Time to take a nice country waltz in a US county
Westinghouse Waltz Mill Westmoreland County
(rating?) a core melt accident in a test reactor? 1960

Looks like American is going for a hat trick
Charlestown US (rating?) “Error by a worker
at a United Nuclear Corporation fuel facility
led to an accidental criticality”. Human error? 1964

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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At The West India Docks

(A Memory of August, 1883)

I STOOD in the ghastly gleaming night by the swollen, sullen flow
Of the dreadful river that rolls her tides through the City of Wealth and
Woe;
And mine eyes were heavy with sleepless hours, and dry with desperate
grief,
And my brain was throbbing and aching, and mine anguish had no relief.
For never a moment — no; not one — through all the dreary day,
And thro' all the weary night forlorn, would the pitiless pulses stay
Of the thundering great Machinery that such insistence had,
As it crushed out human hearts and souls, that it slowly drove me mad.
And there, in the dank and foetid mist, as I, silent and tearless, stood,
And the river's exhalations, sweating forth their muddy blood,
Breathed full on my face and poisoned me, like the slow, putrescent
drain
That carries away from the shambles the refuse of flesh and brain —
There rose up slowly before me, in the dome of the city's light,
A vast and shadowy Substance, with shafts and wheels of might,
Tremendous, ruthless, fatal; and I knew the visible shape
Of that thundering great Machinery from which there was no escape.
It stood there high in the heavens, fronting the face of God,
And the spray it sprinkled had blasted the green and flowery sod
All round where, through stony precincts, its Cyclopean pillars fell
To its adamantine foundations that were fixed in the womb of hell.
And the birds that, wild and whirling, and moth-like, flew to its glare
Were struck by the flying wheel-spokes, and maimed and murdered
there;
And the dust that swept about its black panoply overhead,
And the din of it seemed to shatter and scatter the sheeted dead.
But mine eyes were fixed on the people that sought this horrible den,
And they mounted in thronged battalions, children and women and men,
Right out from the low horizon, more far than eye could see,
From the north and the south and the east and the west, they came
perpetually —
Some silent, some raving, some sobbing, some laughing, some cursing,
some crying,
Some alone, some with others, some struggling, some dragging the dead
and the dying,
Up to the central Wheel enormous with its wild devouring breath
That winnowed the livid smoke-clouds and the sickening fume of death.
Then suddenly, as I watched it all, a keen wind blew amain,
And the air grew clearer and purer, and I could see it plain —
How under the central Wheel a black stone Altar stood,
And a great, gold Idol upon it was gleaming like fiery blood.
And there, in front of the Altar, was a huge, round lurid Pit,
And the thronged battalions were marching to the yawning mouth of it
In the clangour of the Machinery and the Wheel's devouring breath
That winnowed the livid smoke-clouds and the sickening fume of death.
And once again, as I gazed there, and the keen wind still blew on,

[...] Read more

poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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The Lay Of The Bell

Fast, in its prison-walls of earth,
Awaits the mould of baked clay.
Up, comrades, up, and aid the birth
The bell that shall be born to-day!
Who would honor obtain,
With the sweat and the pain,
The praise that man gives to the master must buy.--
But the blessing withal must descend from on high!

And well an earnest word beseems
The work the earnest hand prepares;
Its load more light the labor deems,
When sweet discourse the labor shares.
So let us ponder--nor in vain--
What strength can work when labor wills;
For who would not the fool disdain
Who ne'er designs what he fulfils?
And well it stamps our human race,
And hence the gift to understand,
That man within the heart should trace
Whate'er he fashions with the hand.

From the fir the fagot take,
Keep it, heap it hard and dry,
That the gathered flame may break
Through the furnace, wroth and high.
When the copper within
Seeths and simmers--the tin,
Pour quick, that the fluid that feeds the bell
May flow in the right course glib and well.

Deep hid within this nether cell,
What force with fire is moulding thus,
In yonder airy tower shall dwell,
And witness wide and far of us!
It shall, in later days, unfailing,
Rouse many an ear to rapt emotion;
Its solemn voice with sorrow wailing,
Or choral chiming to devotion.
Whatever fate to man may bring,
Whatever weal or woe befall,
That metal tongue shall backward ring,
The warning moral drawn from all.

See the silvery bubbles spring!
Good! the mass is melting now!
Let the salts we duly bring
Purge the flood, and speed the flow.
From the dross and the scum,
Pure, the fusion must come;

[...] Read more

poem by Friedrich Schiller
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What Are You Laboring For?

What do you labor for my friend; what is your purpose in the end?
Do you labor for a present need, or do you just work to succeed?
Do you punch in a clock for men, to then work eight hours or ten?
Do you put forth effort each day, in a place that you’ll never stay?

These can be asked by all of us, until these bodies return to dust.
But what about time men spend, towards an eternity with no end?
Maybe many aren’t mindful of, the priorities from The Lord above,
Priorities God has for you and me, which extend well into eternity.

When men stand before The Lord, what about all the labor before,
Done while on this earthly sphere, all labored for what down here?
When this life upon earth is past, what in eternity for you will last?
Will all of the effort made by us, simply be blown away like dust?

All of this life is futile, my friend, when your life comes to an end,
Except all of the labor done, for Jesus Christ, God’s Eternal Son.
Wages we don’t get from The Lord, but, from Him, eternal reward,
It’s not only lasting, but its worth, far exceeds the wages on earth.

So why continue to labor in vain, when you can have eternal gain?
Acknowledge God in all you do, and watch what God does in you,
As He stores you treasure above, He fills you with desire and love,
To serve His Son unceasingly, as He prepares us for life eternally.

poem by Bob Gotti
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The Merchant of Dhaka

You can't make money without the factory that cremates the workers alive.
And by the time you piled and filled your coffers with TAKA
You decided to treat the workers as creatures to be used and their bodies mutilated to reap Dollars
Your greed becomes far-reaching.

Who are 'they', these eponymous?
Anonymous, charred bodies
Who worked relentlessly to bring a huge sum of foreign money from far and wide to make you filthy rich?
It is difficult to be more specific than to say
They are the life-line of your industry.

They are related by labour to 'you, the clothing merchant'.
And those workers have to be cremated alive! Some workers have
To be burnt alive in the shrinking hole of hell that you call 'FACTORY! '
And they just happen to be standing about
Like fireflies on a dark, dark night.

She (the female charred body) is, in short, one of many
Of means to an end, that end being to enlarge your ravenous tummy
The production machineries
And to make you prosper and chubbier.

The inhuman working condition, the lowest of wages in the world,
The sexual harassment, the physical torture and mutilation, the absence of everything human,
All these singularities help you pile profits on profits;
You can't make a mountain of riches
Without mutilating their bodies,
All of them in one enclosed hole.

And if versions of the story, the complete
Valency of the tragedy is to be believed
You can't make mountains full of riches without curtailing and telling
At the very least their life span and quite possibly
An imaginary cock and bull story.

A charred female body speaks
To accuse you
You can't, You can't, You can't.
That charred female body may actually have witnessed the carnage with one hundred and twenty one co-workers the final mutilation of their human bodies.

They may have wished to confirm -
You can't make money without the factory
That cremates the workers alive.

Outside the carnage where a few gathers to find the familiar faces of fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers
You are crying your own loss: 'O, my TAKA. O. My TAKA';
Someone is going to provide 'duty of care' to your TAKA lost
Assuring you that your money won't be lost
Would be recovered from the ashes of numbers.

poem by Dr Khairul Chowdhury
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My Name Is Jonas

My name is jonas!
Im carrying the wheel.
Thanks for all youve shown us.
But this is how we feel.
Come sit next to me, pour yourself some tea.
Just like grandma made, when we couldnt find sleep.
Things were better then.
Once but never again.
Weve all left the den, let me tell you bout it.
The choo-choo train left right on time.
A ticket cost only your mind.
The driver said hey man, we go all the way.
Of course we were willing to pay!
My name is wepeel !
Got a box full of your toys.
Theyre fresh out of batteries.
But youre still making noise! making noise!
Tell me what to do,
Now the tank is dry, now this wheel is flat, and you know what else!
Guess what I received in the mail today,
Words of deep concern, for my little brother.
The buildings not going as he planned...
The foreman has injured his hand,
The dozer will not clear a path,
The driver swears he learned his math !
The workers are going home.
Workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
Yeah!
The workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
Yeah yeah yeah!
My name is jonas.

song performed by Weezer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Conditioned To Request Permission

No need to treat me like an alley cat.
Because you are addicted...
To those rumors that will ruin,
Any happiness we get.

No need to treat me like an alley cat.
Because you are addicted...
To those rumors that will ruin,
Any happiness we get.

Because you are addicted...
To those rumors that will ruin,
The pursuing of the blooming...
We expect and accept,
With any happiness we get.

Oh...
Oh oh,
Why should we be the ones conditioned,
To request permission...
To investigate a picked division.

And whoa,
A oh oh....
Oh,
Why should we be the ones conditioned,
To request permission...
To investigate a picked division.

No need to treat me like an alley cat.
Because you are addicted...
To those rumors that will ruin,
Any happiness we get.

No need to treat me with suspicion,
And live with secret inhabitions.
Why should we accept conditions,
That might invite future division.

Whoa,
A oh oh....
Oh,
Why should we be the ones conditioned,
To request permission...
To investigate a picked division.

No need to treat me like an alley cat.
Because you are addicted...
To those rumors that will ruin,
Any happiness we get.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fleeting Times

Many men live life for the reward, and never seem to seek The Lord.
And the earnings that they gain, come with frustration and with pain.
The wages they desire to spend, do seem to come to an early end.
So men will seek a bigger door, always looking to earn much more.
The wages that they get my friend, seem to come to a sudden end.
Men fill their own heart with deceit; vainly imaging what life could be.

They follow many earthly dreams, which lead to deceptive schemes.
And with their eyes they cannot see, beyond this earth is an eternity.
Men follow unmet desires within, unaware that many do lead into sin.
All your wages don’t come into play, when speaking of judgment day.
For the only wages that do figure in, are the wages for all of your sin.
These wages secure eternal death, received upon your final breath.

Men seek from others earthly praise, never thinking of eternal days.
Accolades may lift your self esteem, however, what can they redeem.
All your works will come to naught, if Christ Jesus you never sought.
Christ had paid an enormous price, for men to have prosperous life.
But not one an earthly eye can see, for it is tucked away in eternity.
So why not get with it my friend, and start thinking on your final end.

Far above the present moment of time, is an Eternal World sublime.
Many men spend a life in pursuit, of what turns out to be bitter fruit.
This world slowly ceases to be, as we all move towards an eternity.
Time here is just fleeting away, in this world where no one will stay.
When you seek God in this life, God produces blessings in the strife.
And when you do follow The Lord, you shall reap an eternal reward.

poem by Bob Gotti
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Vision of Columbus – Book 2

High o'er the changing scene, as thus he gazed,
The indulgent Power his arm sublimely raised;
When round the realms superior lustre flew,
And call'd new wonders to the hero's view.
He saw, at once, as far as eye could rove,
Like scattering herds, the swarthy people move,
In tribes innumerable; all the waste,
Beneath their steps, a varying shadow cast.
As airy shapes, beneath the moon's pale eye,
When broken clouds sail o'er the curtain'd sky,
Spread thro' the grove and flit along the glade,
And cast their grisly phantoms thro' the shade;
So move the hordes, in thickers half conceal'd,
Or vagrant stalking o'er the open field.
Here ever-restless tribes, despising home,
O'er shadowy streams and trackless deserts roam;
While others there, thro' downs and hamlets stray,
And rising domes a happier state display.
The painted chiefs, in death's grim terrors drest,
Rise fierce to war, and beat the savage breast;
Dark round their steps collecting warriors pour,
And dire revenge begins the hideous roar;
While to the realms around the signal flies,
And tribes on tribes, in dread disorder, rise,
Track the mute foe and scour the distant wood,
Wide as a storm, and dreadful as a flood;
Now deep in groves the silent ambush lay,
Or wing the flight or sweep the prize away,
Unconscious babes and reverend sires devour,
Drink the warm blood and paint their cheeks with gore.
While all their mazy movements fill the view.
Where'er they turn his eager eyes pursue;
He saw the same dire visage thro' the whole,
And mark'd the same fierce savageness of soul:
In doubt he stood, with anxious thoughts oppress'd,
And thus his wavering mind the Power address'd.
Say, from what source, O Voice of wisdom, sprung
The countless tribes of this amazing throng?
Where human frames and brutal souls combine,
No force can tame them and no arts refine.
Can these be fashion'd on the social plan?
Or boast a lineage with the race of man?
In yon fair isle, when first my wandering view
Ranged the glad coast and met the savage crew;
A timorous herd, like harmless roes, they ran,
Hail'd us as Gods from whom their race began,
Supply'd our various wants, relieved our toil,
And oped the unbounded treasures of their isle.
But when, their fears allay'd, in us they trace
The well-known image of a mortal race;

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
Added by Poetry Lover
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Vision Of Columbus - Book 4

In one dark age, beneath a single hand,
Thus rose an empire in the savage land.
Her golden seats, with following years, increase,
Her growing nations spread the walks of peace,
Her sacred rites display the purest plan,
That e'er adorn'd the unguided mind of man.
Yet all the pomp, the extended climes unfold,
The fields of verdure and the towers of gold,
Those works of peace, and sovereign scenes of state,
In short-lived glory, hasten to their fate.
Thy followers, rushing like an angry flood,
Shall whelm the fields and stain the shrines in blood;
Nor thou, Las Casas, best of men, shalt stay
The ravening legions from their guardless prey.
Oh! hapless prelate, hero, saint and sage,
Doom'd with hard guilt a fruitless war to wage,
To see, with grief (thy life of virtues run)
A realm unpeopled and a world undone.
While impious Valverde, mock of priesthood, stands,
Guilt in his heart, the gospel in his hands,
Bids, in one field, unnumber'd squadrons bleed,
Smiles o'er the scene and sanctifies the deed.
And thou, brave Gasca, with thy virtuous train,
Shalt lift the sword and urge thy power in vain;
Vain, the late task, the sinking land to save,
Or call her slaughter'd millions from the grave.
The Seraph spoke. Columbus, with a sigh,
Cast o'er the hapless climes his moisten'd eye,
And thus return'd: Oh, hide me in the tomb;
Why should I live to view the impending doom?
If such dread scenes the scheme of heaven compose,
And virtuous toils induce redoubled woes,
Unfold no more; but grant a kind release,
Give me, 'tis all I ask, to rest in peace.
Thy soul shall rest in peace, the Power rejoin'd,
Ere these conflicting shades involve mankind:
But nobler views shall first thy mind engage,
Beyond the bounds of this destructive age;
Where happier fruits of thy unwearied toil,
Thro' future years, and other empires, smile.
Europe's contending realms shall soon behold
These fruitful plains and hills of opening gold,
Fair in the path of thy adventurous fail,
Their countless navies float in every gale,
For wealth and commerce, sweep the extended shore,
And load the ocean with the shining ore.
As, up the orient heaven, the dawning ray
Smiles o'er the world and gives the promised day;
Drives fraud and rapine from their nightly spoil,
And social nature wakes to peaceful toil;

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poem by Joel Barlow
Added by Poetry Lover
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All This Information

All of us seem to walk away from everything
It takes a certain amount of originality to describe this place as home
And all of us seem to walk away from everything
It takes a certain amount of originality to describe yourself as interesting
And all of us seem to walk away from everything
It takes a certain amount of originality to describe yourself as home
All this information that we have to choose from
It means nothing to you
It means nothing to you
There's no suggestion that it's needless
When the competition is so needless
It's all so meaningless
There's no suggestion that it's needless
When the competition is so needless
It's all so meaningless
All of us seem to walk away from everything
It takes a certain amount of personality to describe yourself as interesting
And all of us seem to walk away from everything
It takes a certain amount of personality to describe yourself as truly truly honest
All this information that we have to choose from
It means nothing to you
It means nothing to you
There's no suggestion that it's needless
When the competition is so needless
It's all so meaningless
There's no suggestion that it's needless
When the competition is so needless
It's all so meaningless
There's no suggestion that it's needless
When the competition is so needless
It's all so meaningless
There's no suggestion that it's needless
When the competition is so needless
It's so needless when things change

song performed by Idlewild
Added by Lucian Velea
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