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We must remain steadfast in our commitment to our troops, and to those fighting for a free and democratic Iraq because freedom makes our country and the world a safer place.

quote by Chris Chocola
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Universal Freedom Is......

Freedom from hunger and freedom from pain
freedom from loss and so freedom from gain.
Freedom to give and freedom to share
freedom from want and that of despair.

Freedom to think and freedom to know
freedom to achieve and freedom to grow.
Freedom from bondage and freedom of liberation
freedom from ignorance and any unknown situation.

Freedom to come and freedom to leave
freedom to stay and freedom to conceive.
Freedom from struggle and freedom of ease
freedom to enjoy and the capacity to please.

Freedom from failure and freedom of success
freedom from denial and freedom of access.
Freedom from illusion and freedom of reality
freedom to become what we are in actuality.

Freedom to live and freedom to die
freedom to laugh and freedom to cry.
Freedom to speak and freedom to listen
freedom to act based on a wise decision.

Freedom from hate and freedom of love
freedom of below and freedom of above.
Freedom of the past and freedom of the present
freedom of the future and what it can represent.

Freedom from war and freedom of peace
freedom to begin and freedom to cease.
Freedom from sickness and freedom of health
freedom from poverty and mishandled wealth.

Freedom from wrong and freedom being right
freedom of the day and freedom of the night.
Freedom to choose and freedom to reject
freedom to imagine what there is to expect.

Freedom from lust and freedom from greed
freedom from anger and freedom from breed.
Freedom from jealousy and freedom from pride
freedom from within and freedom from outside.
Freedom of always not having anything to hide.

Freedom from space and also freedom from time
freedom from attachment and freedom from crime
Freedom to work and freedom to play
freedom to believe and freedom to pray.

[...] Read more

poem by George Krokos
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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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On the Innate Drive For What is Right

As life bled, martyrdom flared its buds.
Repression, red from irritation,
Rendered chinks and cracks; but thuds of
Armament - in cowardice - accomplice of the
Dictatorial blight thro' countless years -
Wreaked its retribution:
Yet hope began to bloom a coloured carapace
Enshrining their allegiance ‘gainst the
Terror in their tears.

And on! Splits yawned - breaches in the junta:
Flesh fought fanatical minds -
Bullets welcomed into open hands
And blessed with yearnings for morality:
Chiselled man-toys of death and mutilation
Couldn't repel the might of freedom
Surging at the bright horizon.

Crepuscular rays of purpose, body,
Flooded pandemonium with
Overwhelming clarity, direction -
Burdened clouds drifting wayward as the
Light channelled out a vision,
Intensifying focus on tomorrow -
Deepen their stride
As they home in to
What is theirs,
Rightfully theirs!

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 12

WHEN Turnus saw the Latins leave the field,
Their armies broken, and their courage quell’d,
Himself become the mark of public spite,
His honor question’d for the promis’d fight;
The more he was with vulgar hate oppress’d, 5
The more his fury boil’d within his breast:
He rous’d his vigor for the last debate,
And rais’d his haughty soul to meet his fate.
As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase,
He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace; 10
But, if the pointed jav’lin pierce his side,
The lordly beast returns with double pride:
He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain;
His sides he lashes, and erects his mane:
So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire, 15
Thro’ his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire.
Trembling with rage, around the court he ran,
At length approach’d the king, and thus began:
“No more excuses or delays: I stand
In arms prepar’d to combat, hand to hand, 20
This base deserter of his native land.
The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take
The same conditions which himself did make.
Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare,
And to my single virtue trust the war. 25
The Latians unconcern’d shall see the fight;
This arm unaided shall assert your right:
Then, if my prostrate body press the plain,
To him the crown and beauteous bride remain.”
To whom the king sedately thus replied: 30
“Brave youth, the more your valor has been tried,
The more becomes it us, with due respect,
To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect.
You want not wealth, or a successive throne,
Or cities which your arms have made your own: 35
My towns and treasures are at your command,
And stor’d with blooming beauties is my land;
Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees,
Unmarried, fair, of noble families.
Now let me speak, and you with patience hear, 40
Things which perhaps may grate a lover’s ear,
But sound advice, proceeding from a heart
Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.
The gods, by signs, have manifestly shown,
No prince Italian born should heir my throne: 45
Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill’d,
And oft our priests, a foreign son reveal’d.
Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood,
Brib’d by my kindness to my kindred blood,
Urg’d by my wife, who would not be denied, 50

[...] Read more

poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Whose Country Is This?

Whose country is this?
It is a land full of snakes;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of many waters;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of thieves! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of oil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of earthquakes!
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of lovers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of volcanoes!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful flowers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hansome men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of roses;
Whose country is this?
it is a land ruled only by men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land without rainfall;
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by a woman;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of corruption!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pirates! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by law;
Whose country is this?
It is a land controlled by rebels!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ice;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of singers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of troubles;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of war! !

[...] Read more

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Extension 33

Living at the y, extension 33,
Nothing to care or to worry.
Once I was in love with a blind man,
But my auntie told me, dont do it, its not worth it.
Living at the y, 33 years,
No one to call or to write to.
Once I was in love with a married man,
But my instincts told me, dont tell him, itll kill you.
Im sad I didnt marry the blind man,
But whats a life with three blind children?
Im glad I never told the married man,
It saved my pride and freedom.
Living at the y, in 33 rooms,
Nowhere to visit or write to.
Once I was in love, it nearly killed me,
But now I have my pride and freedom.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom.

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Freedom Fighters

Today I heard what them people say
Dem want to live free greedily, with everyone to pay.
You play under the sun while others fight and dies away
but I say if you don't like it this way, then why stay? Go away
Freedom Fighters
Ignite Jah
Freedom Fighters
Shine Jah
Live free, Be free, Die free
Freedom Fighters
Live free, Be free, Die free
Ignite Jah
Live free, Be free, Die free
Freedom Fighters
Live free, Be free, Die free
Shine Jah
Today I heard what them people say
Them say "The Man came in and he took our choice away"
You portray selfishness and hate
While some prepare to die today
I say you fade away, appreciate life and liberate
Freedom Fighters
Ignite Jah
Freedom Fighters
Shine Jah
Live free, Be free, Die free
Freedom Fighters
Live free, Be free, Die free
Ignite Jah
Live free, Be free, Die free
Freedom Fighters
Live free, Be free, Die free
Shine Jah
We have the right - to live in peace
and you must fight - for what you keep
If what you keep - holds truth inside
Stand up, defend - lay down and die
We have the right to live in peace
You must fight for what you keep
If what you keep holds truth inside
Stand up, defend, or lay down and die
Freedom Fighters
Ignite Jah
Freedom Fighters
Shine Jah
Live free, Be free, Die free
Freedom Fighters
Live free, Be free, Die free
Ignite Jah
Live free, Be free, Die free

[...] Read more

song performed by P.O.D.
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Street Fighting Man

Everywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feet, boy
cause summers here and the time is right for fighting in the street, boy
Tell me what can a poor boy do
cept for sing for a rock n roll band
cause in this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
Do you think the time is right for a palace revolution
Where I live the game to play is compromise solution
Well then what can a poor boy
cept for sing for a rock n roll band
cause in this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Hey my name is called disturbance
Ill shout and scream, Ill kill the king, Ill rail at all his servants
Well what can a poor boy do
For sing for a rock n roll band
In this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man

song performed by Rage Against The Machine
Added by Lucian Velea
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M'Fingal - Canto II

The Sun, who never stops to dine,
Two hours had pass'd the mid-way line,
And driving at his usual rate,
Lash'd on his downward car of state.
And now expired the short vacation,
And dinner o'er in epic fashion,
While all the crew, beneath the trees,
Eat pocket-pies, or bread and cheese,
(Nor shall we, like old Homer, care
To versify their bill of fare)
Each active party, feasted well,
Throng'd in, like sheep, at sound of bell;
With equal spirit took their places,
And meeting oped with three Oh Yesses:
When first, the daring Whigs t' oppose,
Again the great M'Fingal rose,
Stretch'd magisterial arm amain,
And thus resumed th' accusing strain.

"Ye Whigs attend, and hear affrighted
The crimes whereof ye stand indicted;
The sins and follies past all compass,
That prove you guilty, or non compos.
I leave the verdict to your senses,
And jury of your consciences;
Which though they're neither good nor true,
Must yet convict you and your crew.

"Ungrateful sons! a factious band,
That rise against your parent land!
Ye viper race, that burst in strife
The genial womb that gave you life,
Tear with sharp fangs and forked tongue
The indulgent bowels whence ye sprung;
And scorn the debt and obligation,
You justly owe the British nation,
Which, since you cannot pay, your crew
Affect to swear was never due.

"Did not the deeds of England's primate
First drive your fathers to this climate,
Whom jails and fines and every ill
Forced to their good against their will?
Ye owe to their obliging temper
The peopling your new-fangled empire,
While every British act and canon
Stood forth your causa sine qua non.

[...] Read more

poem by John Trumbull
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Beating Around The Bush: A Foreign Policy

Saddam claimed to be greater
than Hitler and Nebuchadnezzar,
an ancient king of Babylon.

Saddam believed he would
build a Greater Empire than both,
beginning from modern Iraq.

This is the man Mr Bush!
Decided to let continue
to rule during his watch?

In 1979 Iraqi President Saddam Hussein
claimed he was a direct lineal descendant
of Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar II.

Saddam called himself Nebuchadnezzar III
had coins struck showing his likeness
coined with the Babylonian king on these coins.

The two likenesses proved to be! Uncannily similar!

In his memoirs George Herbert Bush
compared Saddam to Adolf Hitler!
Aspirations for Empire! Ambitions!
Ethnic Cleansing! Rule by Dictatorship!

[Chemical weapons, deportations!
Forced disappearances, Secret police!
Targeted assassinations, torture, murders!
Sounds like a resume of Adolf Hitler!
Yes Saddam was another Hitler wanta be! ]

[This is monster Mr Bush
decided to let continue
to rule during his watch? ]

Invasion and Annexation
Kuwait invaded by Iraqi!
August 2 1990!
Iraqi forces first bomb
Kuwait City terror tactics!

The Kuwaiti civilian capital
attacked by Iraqi commandos!
Deployed by helicopters boats
all airports two airbases seized!

Remember Invasion Kuwait?
Saddam’s Iraq-Kuwait War?

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 11

SCARCE had the rosy Morning rais’d her head
Above the waves, and left her wat’ry bed;
The pious chief, whom double cares attend
For his unburied soldiers and his friend,
Yet first to Heav’n perform’d a victor’s vows: 5
He bar’d an ancient oak of all her boughs;
Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac’d,
Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac’d.
The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn,
Now on a naked snag in triumph borne, 10
Was hung on high, and glitter’d from afar,
A trophy sacred to the God of War.
Above his arms, fix’d on the leafless wood,
Appear’d his plumy crest, besmear’d with blood:
His brazen buckler on the left was seen; 15
Truncheons of shiver’d lances hung between;
And on the right was placed his corslet, bor’d;
And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword.
A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man,
Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began: 20
“Our toils, my friends, are crown’d with sure success;
The greater part perform’d, achieve the less.
Now follow cheerful to the trembling town;
Press but an entrance, and presume it won.
Fear is no more, for fierce Mezentius lies, 25
As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice.
Turnus shall fall extended on the plain,
And, in this omen, is already slain.
Prepar’d in arms, pursue your happy chance;
That none unwarn’d may plead his ignorance, 30
And I, at Heav’n’s appointed hour, may find
Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind.
Meantime the rites and fun’ral pomps prepare,
Due to your dead companions of the war:
The last respect the living can bestow, 35
To shield their shadows from contempt below.
That conquer’d earth be theirs, for which they fought,
And which for us with their own blood they bought;
But first the corpse of our unhappy friend
To the sad city of Evander send, 40
Who, not inglorious, in his age’s bloom,
Was hurried hence by too severe a doom.”
Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way,
Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay.
Acoetes watch’d the corpse; whose youth deserv’d 45
The father’s trust; and now the son he serv’d
With equal faith, but less auspicious care.
Th’ attendants of the slain his sorrow share.
A troop of Trojans mix’d with these appear,
And mourning matrons with dishevel’d hair. 50

[...] Read more

poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 10

THE GATES of heav’n unfold: Jove summons all
The gods to council in the common hall.
Sublimely seated, he surveys from far
The fields, the camp, the fortune of the war,
And all th’ inferior world. From first to last, 5
The sov’reign senate in degrees are plac’d.
Then thus th’ almighty sire began: “Ye gods,
Natives or denizens of blest abodes,
From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind,
This backward fate from what was first design’d? 10
Why this protracted war, when my commands
Pronounc’d a peace, and gave the Latian lands?
What fear or hope on either part divides
Our heav’ns, and arms our powers on diff’rent sides?
A lawful time of war at length will come, 15
(Nor need your haste anticipate the doom),
When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome,
Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains,
And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains.
Then is your time for faction and debate, 20
For partial favor, and permitted hate.
Let now your immature dissension cease;
Sit quiet, and compose your souls to peace.”
Thus Jupiter in few unfolds the charge;
But lovely Venus thus replies at large: 25
“O pow’r immense, eternal energy,
(For to what else protection can we fly?)
Seest thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare
In fields, unpunish’d, and insult my care?
How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train, 30
In shining arms, triumphant on the plain?
Ev’n in their lines and trenches they contend,
And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend:
The town is fill’d with slaughter, and o’erfloats,
With a red deluge, their increasing moats. 35
Æneas, ignorant, and far from thence,
Has left a camp expos’d, without defense.
This endless outrage shall they still sustain?
Shall Troy renew’d be forc’d and fir’d again?
A second siege my banish’d issue fears, 40
And a new Diomede in arms appears.
One more audacious mortal will be found;
And I, thy daughter, wait another wound.
Yet, if with fates averse, without thy leave,
The Latian lands my progeny receive, 45
Bear they the pains of violated law,
And thy protection from their aid withdraw.
But, if the gods their sure success foretell;
If those of heav’n consent with those of hell,
To promise Italy; who dare debate 50

[...] Read more

poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Freedom Now

They throwed him in jail
And they kept him there
Hoping soo hed die
That his body and spirit would waste away
And soon after that his mind
But every day is born a fool
One who thinks that he can rule
One who says tomorrows mine
One who wakes one day to find
The prison doors open the shackles broken
And chaos in the street
Everybody sing were free free free free
Everybody sing were free free free free
Everybody sing were free free free free
They throwed him in jail
And they kept him there
Hoping his memoryd die
That the people forget how he once led
And fought for justice in their lives
But every day is born a man
Who hates what he cant understand
Who thinks the answer is to kill
Who thinks his actions are gods will
And he thinks hes free free free free
Yes he thinks hes free free free free
He thinks hes free free free free
Soon must come the day
Whe the righteous have their way
Unjustly tried are free
And people live in peace I say
Give the man release
Go on and set your conscience free
Right the wrongs you made
Even a fool can have his day
Let us all be free free free free
Let us all be free free free free
Let us all be free free free free
Free our bodies free our minds
Free our hearts
Freedom for everyone
And freedom now
Freedom now
Freedom now
Freedom now
Let us all be free free free free
Let us all be free free free free
Let us all be free free free free

song performed by Tracy Chapman
Added by Lucian Velea
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Vida's Game Of Chess

TRANSLATED

ARMIES of box that sportively engage
And mimic real battles in their rage,
Pleased I recount; how, smit with glory's charms,
Two mighty Monarchs met in adverse arms,
Sable and white; assist me to explore,
Ye Serian Nymphs, what ne'er was sung before.
No path appears: yet resolute I stray
Where youth undaunted bids me force my way.
O'er rocks and cliffs while I the task pursue,
Guide me, ye Nymphs, with your unerring clue.
For you the rise of this diversion know,
You first were pleased in Italy to show
This studious sport; from Scacchis was its name,
The pleasing record of your Sister's fame.

When Jove through Ethiopia's parch'd extent
To grace the nuptials of old Ocean went,
Each god was there; and mirth and joy around
To shores remote diffused their happy sound.
Then when their hunger and their thirst no more
Claim'd their attention, and the feast was o'er;
Ocean with pastime to divert the thought,
Commands a painted table to be brought.
Sixty-four spaces fill the chequer'd square;
Eight in each rank eight equal limits share.
Alike their form, but different are their dyes,
They fade alternate, and alternate rise,
White after black; such various stains as those
The shelving backs of tortoises disclose.
Then to the gods that mute and wondering sate,
You see (says he) the field prepared for fate.
Here will the little armies please your sight,
With adverse colours hurrying to the fight:
On which so oft, with silent sweet surprise,
The Nymphs and Nereids used to feast their eyes,
And all the neighbours of the hoary deep,
When calm the sea, and winds were lull'd asleep
But see, the mimic heroes tread the board;
He said, and straightway from an urn he pour'd
The sculptured box, that neatly seem'd to ape
The graceful figure of a human shape:--
Equal the strength and number of each foe,
Sixteen appear'd like jet, sixteen like snow.
As their shape varies various is the name,
Different their posts, nor is their strength the same.
There might you see two Kings with equal pride
Gird on their arms, their Consorts by their side;
Here the Foot-warriors glowing after fame,

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poem by Oliver Goldsmith
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Pharsalia - Book VII: The Battle

Ne'er to the summons of the Eternal laws
More slowly Titan rose, nor drave his steeds,
Forced by the sky revolving, up the heaven,
With gloomier presage; wishing to endure
The pangs of ravished light, and dark eclipse;
And drew the mists up, not to feed his flames,
But lest his light upon Thessalian earth
Might fall undimmed.

Pompeius on that morn,
To him the latest day of happy life,
In troubled sleep an empty dream conceived.
For in the watches of the night he heard
Innumerable Romans shout his name
Within his theatre; the benches vied
To raise his fame and place him with the gods;
As once in youth, when victory was won
O'er conquered tribes where swift Iberus flows,
And where Sertorius' armies fought and fled,
The west subdued, with no less majesty
Than if the purple toga graced the car,
He sat triumphant in his pure white gown
A Roman knight, and heard the Senate's cheer.
Perhaps, as ills drew near, his anxious soul,
Shunning the future wooed the happy past;
Or, as is wont, prophetic slumber showed
That which was not to be, by doubtful forms
Misleading; or as envious Fate forbade
Return to Italy, this glimpse of Rome
Kind Fortune gave. Break not his latest sleep,
Ye sentinels; let not the trumpet call
Strike on his ear: for on the morrow's night
Shapes of the battle lost, of death and war
Shall crowd his rest with terrors. Whence shalt thou
The poor man's happiness of sleep regain?
Happy if even in dreams thy Rome could see
Once more her captain! Would the gods had given
To thee and to thy country one day yet
To reap the latest fruit of such a love:
Though sure of fate to come! Thou marchest on
As though by heaven ordained in Rome to die;
She, conscious ever of her prayers for thee
Heard by the gods, deemed not the fates decreed
Such evil destiny, that she should lose
The last sad solace of her Magnus' tomb.
Then young and old had blent their tears for thee,
And child unbidden; women torn their hair
And struck their bosoms as for Brutus dead.
But now no public woe shall greet thy death
As erst thy praise was heard: but men shall grieve

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poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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The Dark Knight Comes Too Pass

The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known

From a mere boy
Being raised by the wolves
Living in the darkness for just too long
Something just went so wrong

The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known

Was it a death so desperately
Forever in misery
A loves tragedy
Is always so sad to see

The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known

The not so dead family
A murder held with in their arms
With no recourse
With no remorse

The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known

He's the alternate ending
As the light comes to pass
Shadows lurk
They shouldn't be disturbed
Let them rest in peace

The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known

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poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 7

AND thou, O matron of immortal fame,
Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name;
Cajeta still the place is call’d from thee,
The nurse of great Æneas’ infancy.
Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia’s plains; 5
Thy name (’t is all a ghost can have) remains.
Now, when the prince her fun’ral rites had paid,
He plow’d the Tyrrhene seas with sails display’d.
From land a gentle breeze arose by night,
Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright, 10
And the sea trembled with her silver light.
Now near the shelves of Circe’s shores they run,
(Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,)
A dang’rous coast: the goddess wastes her days
In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays: 15
In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night,
And cedar brands supply her father’s light.
From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main,
The roars of lions that refuse the chain,
The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears, 20
And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors’ ears.
These from their caverns, at the close of night,
Fill the sad isle with horror and affright.
Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe’s pow’r,
(That watch’d the moon and planetary hour,) 25
With words and wicked herbs from humankind
Had alter’d, and in brutal shapes confin’d.
Which monsters lest the Trojans’ pious host
Should bear, or touch upon th’ inchanted coast,
Propitious Neptune steer’d their course by night 30
With rising gales that sped their happy flight.
Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore,
And hear the swelling surges vainly roar.
Now, when the rosy morn began to rise,
And wav’d her saffron streamer thro’ the skies; 35
When Thetis blush’d in purple not her own,
And from her face the breathing winds were blown,
A sudden silence sate upon the sea,
And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way.
The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood, 40
Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood:
Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course,
With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force,
That drove the sand along, he took his way,
And roll’d his yellow billows to the sea. 45
About him, and above, and round the wood,
The birds that haunt the borders of his flood,
That bath’d within, or basked upon his side,
To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied.
The captain gives command; the joyful train 50

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poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Pharsalia - Book IV: Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea. Death Of Curio.

But in the distant regions of the earth
Fierce Caesar warring, though in fight he dealt
No baneful slaughter, hastened on the doom
To swift fulfillment. There on Magnus' side
Afranius and Petreius held command,
Who ruled alternate, and the rampart guard
Obeyed the standard of each chief in turn.
There with the Romans in the camp were joined
Asturians swift, and Vettons lightly armed,
And Celts who, exiled from their ancient home,
Had joined 'Iberus' to their former name.
Where the rich soil in gentle slope ascends
And forms a modest hill, Ilerda stands,
Founded in ancient days; beside her glides
Not least of western rivers, Sicoris
Of placid current, by a mighty arch
Of stone o'erspanned, which not the winter floods
Shall overwhelm. Upon a rock hard by
Was Magnus' camp; but Caesar's on a hill,
Rivalling the first; and in the midst a stream.
Here boundless plains are spread beyond the range
Of human vision; Cinga girds them in
With greedy waves; forbidden to contend
With tides of ocean; for that larger flood
Who names the land, Iberus, sweeps along
The lesser stream commingled with his own.

Guiltless of war, the first day saw the hosts
In long array confronted; standard rose
Opposing standard, numberless; yet none
Essayed attack, in shame of impious strife.
One day they gave their country and her laws.
But Caesar, when from heaven fell the night,
Drew round a hasty trench; his foremost rank
With close array concealing those who wrought.
Then with the morn he bids them seize the hill
Which parted from the camp Ilerda's walls,
And gave them safety. But in fear and shame
On rushed the foe and seized the vantage ground,
First in the onset. From the height they held
Their hopes of conquest; but to Caesar's men
Their hearts by courage stirred, and their good swords
Promised the victory. Burdened up the ridge
The soldier climbed, and from the opposing steep
But for his comrade's shield had fallen back;
None had the space to hurl the quivering lance
Upon the foeman: spear and pike made sure
The failing foothold, and the falchion's edge
Hewed out their upward path. But Caesar saw
Ruin impending, and he bade his horse

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poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 9

WHILE these affairs in distant places pass’d,
The various Iris Juno sends with haste,
To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought,
The secret shade of his great grandsire sought.
Retir’d alone she found the daring man, 5
And op’d her rosy lips, and thus began:
“What none of all the gods could grant thy vows,
That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows.
Æneas, gone to seek th’ Arcadian prince,
Has left the Trojan camp without defense; 10
And, short of succors there, employs his pains
In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains.
Now snatch an hour that favors thy designs;
Unite thy forces, and attack their lines.”
This said, on equal wings she pois’d her weight, 15
And form’d a radiant rainbow in her flight.
The Daunian hero lifts his hands and eyes,
And thus invokes the goddess as she flies:
“Iris, the grace of heav’n, what pow’r divine
Has sent thee down, thro’ dusky clouds to shine? 20
See, they divide; immortal day appears,
And glitt’ring planets dancing in their spheres!
With joy, these happy omens I obey,
And follow to the war the god that leads the way.”
Thus having said, as by the brook he stood, 25
He scoop’d the water from the crystal flood;
Then with his hands the drops to heav’n he throws,
And loads the pow’rs above with offer’d vows.
Now march the bold confed’rates thro’ the plain,
Well hors’d, well clad; a rich and shining train. 30
Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear,
The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear.
In the main battle, with his flaming crest,
The mighty Turnus tow’rs above the rest.
Silent they move, majestically slow, 35
Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow.
The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far,
And the dark menace of the distant war.
Caicus from the rampire saw it rise,
Black’ning the fields, and thick’ning thro’ the skies. 40
Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls:
“What rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls?
Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears
And pointed darts! the Latian host appears.”
Thus warn’d, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend 45
The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend:
For their wise gen’ral, with foreseeing care,
Had charg’d them not to tempt the doubtful war,
Nor, tho’ provok’d, in open fields advance,
But close within their lines attend their chance. 50

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poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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