Quotes about clan, page 4
The EDiots of the Yahweh Clan
The Yahweh Clan love
innocent people to attack.
Though most of them are
drunks and smoke crack.
Their breed of racism must
come to an end.
Handicapped children and minorities
they hurt and offend.
Though sick, sad and lonely
They are nobody's friend.
For them the long arm of the law
is right around the bend.
Who knows next,
what they will try to hurt or do.
Added all together 22
is their combined I.Q.
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poem by Johnny Law
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Behind This Story
It is not up in the heavens,
It is not beyond the seas,
It is not around you,
It is not near you,
For the teeth of the wild animals are deep in the forest.
It is a concrete hole,
For my wife is wounded;
But who is behind this story?
November 12th 2006,
I escaped from the bullet!
November 14th 2006,
Your own eyes have seen this day;
November 17th 2006,
Six months after the birth of Elias;
With accurate and hones weights,
But like the broken glass on that day!
Take him to your husband and take her to your wife,
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poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Failed Love-war
When their steadfast love
Waged war against the world
They never asked their religion
He never asked her
To change her religion
To change her name
At the culmination
Of the love- war against all
The universe
The Gods
He asked her
To wipe out the vermilion dot
On her fore-head
To break her bangles
To suit to his religion!
She stood with him
To wage war against
Her religion
Her beliefs
Her village diktat
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poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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Pleasant One
Clan by clan,
Kin by kin,
One by one,
The store of Bohan!
And like the coastline of great love.
The scorpion passed by near the lion,
But his best-man took away his wife;
And, the story went out through the village.
Customary,
To entice her;
Of a feast,
To entice him;
But, her bride-mate took away his husband!
And, the story went out through the village.
Pleasant one,
To the land of my birth;
Of mercy and truth,
But this woman is from Bethlehem.
This man is your guest and,
This woman is my guest;
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poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Coming Man
Oh, not for the great departed,
Who formed our country's laws,
And not for the bravest-hearted
Who died in freedom's cause,
And not for some living hero
To whom all bend the knee,
My muse would raise her song of praise-
But for the man to be.
For out of the strife which woman
Is passing through to-day,
A man that is more than human
Shall yet be born, I say.
A man in whose pure spirit
No dross of self will lurk;
A man who is strong to cope with wrong,
A man who is proud to work.
A man with hope undaunted,
A man with godlike power,
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poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Less Eccentric But Thoughtfully Provocative
Remembering those first decisions,
I had made for myself...
I can now admit to feeling awkward then.
I had no elder sibling to follow.
I was the oldest child in my clan.
And I noticed with me several experiments began.
I was expected to 'know' before I knew a thing.
I was expected to 'grow'...
To show my sister, Mimmie 'everything'.
And she knew she got the short end of the stick.
'You don't know what your're doing!
Do you? '
~Shut up! I'm two years older than you...
LITTLE girl.~
She hated me for that.
And I didn't care.
I hated we both were in that trap!
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Robin Hood
NO! those days are gone away,
And their hours are old and gray,
And their minutes buried all
Under the down-trodden pall
Ofthe leaves of many years:
Many times have winter's shears,
Frozen North, and chilling East,
Sounded tempests to the feast
Of the forest's whispering fleeces,
Since men knew nor rent nor leases.
No, the bugle sounds no more,
And the twanging bow no more;
Silent is the ivory shrill
Past the heath and up the hill;
There is no mid-forest laugh,
Where lone Echo gives the half
To some wight, amaz'd to hear
Jesting, deep in forest drear.
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poem by John Keats
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Donal Campbell
DONAL' CAMPBELL
-Donal' Bane-
sailed away across the
ocean
With the tartans of Clan
Gordon, to the Indies'
distant shore,
But on Dargai's lonely hill-
side, Donal' Campbell
met the foeman,
And the glen of Athol
Moray will never see him more!
O! the wailing of the women, O! the storm of
bitter sorrow
Sweeping like the wintry torrent thro' Athol
Moray's glen
When the black word reached the clansmen,
that young Donal' Bane had fallen
In the red glare of the battle, with the gallant
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poem by William Henry Drummond
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The Old Scotish Cavalier
I.
Come listen to another song,
Should make your heart beat high,
Bring crimson to your forehead,
And the lustre to your eye;-
It is a song of olden time,
Of days long since gone by,
And of a Baron stout and bold
As e'er wore sword on thigh!
Like a brave old Scottish cavalier,
All of the olden time!
II.
He kept his castle in the north,
Hard by the thundering Spey;
And a thousand vassals dwelt around
All of his kindred they.
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poem by William Edmondstoune Aytoun
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Alankar (Decor) -17
Planning Of A Housewife
1
I plan this way that way, no way it works
Jumbled my chores a waste confuse undone
Rushing it starts a day berserk just quirks
No day perfect as wished nothing well done
I am worried for I am not perfect
So new I plan with sense a time-table
Expenditure, worktime well schemed just right
Refreshed my life revised I feel able
Abiding by my own rules I am brisk
Running with the clock restless well all done
But then..restless running now stirs to frisk
Fatigued I feel so much senseless my run
So I rest, I muse why my plans just break
I learn, need rest then and then to betake
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poem by Indira Renganathan
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