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Too Long In Exile

Too long in exile
Too long not singing my song
Too long in exile
Too long like a rolling stone
Too long in exile
Too long in exile
Baby those people just aint, just aint your friends
Too long in exile my friend
You can never go home again
Well that isolated feeling
Drives you so close up against the wall
Till you feel like you cant go on
Youve been in the same place for too long
Too long in exile
Baby you can never go back home
Too long in exile
Anyway you want
Oh that isolated feeling
Drives you up against, up against the wall
cos youve been on the mainland baby

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song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Leszko The Bastard

``Why do I bid the rising gale
To waft me from your shore?
Why hail I, as the vultures hail,
The scent of far-off gore?
Why wear I with defiant pride
The Paynim's badge and gear,
Though I am vowed to Christ that died,
And fain would staunch the gaping side
That felt the sceptic spear?
And why doth one in whom there runs
The blood of Sclavic sires and sons,
In those but find a foe,
That onward march with sword and flame,
To vindicate the Sclavic name,
From the fringe of Arctic snows,
To the cradle of the rose,
Where the Sweet Waters flow?
Strange! But 'twere stranger yet if I,
When Turk and Tartar splinters fly,
Lagged far behind the van.

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poem by Alfred Austin
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God In Exile

Why is God in exile?
Why is He banished from thy midst?
None gives any answer.

God in exile has no regrets,
God in another world is safe,
Nothing shatters His self and pride.

'God is love', they said.
'He is the redeemer', X said.
And God felt humiliated and He fled.

God in His exile is free from dawn to dusk.
He needs no solace of introception there
He is sure to win the battle of nothingness.

God in exile won`t read these lines
Nor will he bless a poet unknown.
God in exile has gone back to His mystery.

poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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An honourable exile

It is great tragedy if you have to leave the country
You may be charged with sedition or staging mutiny
You might be termed as terrorist or person non-grata
Your photos are displayed to main entry points with bio-data

In all such sense you are debarred from entering
There may be high alerts for your cornering
The state is afraid of unrest in all parts of the states
You might be gunned down even at the gates

In cases of out laws, it is welcome step and desired
The ban against economic offenders is also admired
There is red corner notice to nab them from wherever they are
There hide out is made known even if they fled away very far

These are compulsory exile steps meant at avoiding the sabotage
The divisive forces may come out in open and take advantage
Some of the criminals are also debarred from one state to another and expelled
Their design to wreck the law and order situation is stubbornly repelled

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Ultima Verba (My Last Word)

... Quand même grandirait l'abjection publique
A ce point d'adorer l'exécrable trompeur ;
Quand même l'Angleterre et même l'Amérique
Diraient à l'exilé : - Va-t'en ! nous avons peur !

Quand même nous serions comme la feuille morte,
Quand, pour plaire à César, on nous renîrait tous ;
Quand le proscrit devrait s'enfuir de porte en porte,
Aux hommes déchiré comme un haillon aux clous ;

Quand le désert, où Dieu contre l'homme proteste,
Bannirait les bannis, chasserait les chassés ;
Quand même, infâme aussi, lâche comme le reste,
Le tombeau jetterait dehors les trépassés ;

Je ne fléchirai pas ! Sans plainte dans la bouche,
Calme, le deuil au coeur, dédaignant le troupeau,
Je vous embrasserai dans mon exil farouche,
Patrie, ô mon autel ! Liberté, mon drapeau !

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poem by Victor Hugo
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My Time In Exile

Used to worry for each other
No ones bothered like before
We sleep with each others friends
Sneak around, fall apart
And come back for more
We sit around drinking tables
Stabalized and keeping score
But my mind is somewhere out the door
Oh, we have grown
Maybe I've overstayed a while
In my time in exile
Oh, time has flown
And the only thing I've learned
I want a life now of my own
We go to clubs
The songs are old
The evening's blown
We go our ways
And take taxi's home
We talk of sunday outings

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song performed by Third Eye Blind
Added by Lucian Velea
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Nevada Mental Institute

Is this really a mental hospital?
It didn't look that way to me
a man in his wheel chair
kept saying this to himself
'O I wish I was never born!
O I wish I was never born! '
Some gaunt apparitions
here and there
minding their own businesses
howling at me
'Stay away! '
Seeing the blood stains
on the carpet floor
I shivered with fear and fright
that they might
devour me and my body
drinking my blood
dripping on the floor
which caused me to refuse
to take any medications

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poem by Sangnam Nam
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Le Cygne (The Swan)

À Victor Hugo

I

Andromaque, je pense à vous! Ce petit fleuve,
Pauvre et triste miroir où jadis resplendit
L'immense majesté de vos douleurs de veuve,
Ce Simoïs menteur qui par vos pleurs grandit,

A fécondé soudain ma mémoire fertile,
Comme je traversais le nouveau Carrousel.
Le vieux Paris n'est plus (la forme d'une ville
Change plus vite, hélas! que le coeur d'un mortel);

Je ne vois qu'en esprit tout ce camp de baraques,
Ces tas de chapiteaux ébauchés et de fûts,
Les herbes, les gros blocs verdis par l'eau des flaques,
Et, brillant aux carreaux, le bric-à-brac confus.

Là s'étalait jadis une ménagerie;

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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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First Date Tree Saeeded By Abdul Rahman The Firs

You are the apple of my eye,
My heart's delight:
I am remote from my valley,
To me you are the Burning Bush of Sinai!
You are a houri of the Arabian Desert,
Nursed by the Western breeze.
I feel homesick in exile,
You feel homesick in exile:

Prosper in this strange land!
May the morning dew quench your thirst!

The world presents a strange sight:
The vision's mantle is torn apart—
May valour struggle with the waves if it must,
The other side of the river is not to be seen!
Life owes itself to the heat of one's soul:
Flame does not rise from dust.
The Syrian evening's fallen star
Shined brighter in the exile's dawn.

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poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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Ode to Aashu

Ode to Aashu

O Ashu, My pen hesitates to record down,
You remain an experience in me to crown.

Those moments of prosperity we shared;
Are cunningly implore me like a mad.

Hands betray me to limit those experiences;
Indeed, it limits to feel the reverence.

Your widowed shelter, pines those blossoming;
I visited once after your knock of returning.

You may encounter millions of events there;
I wish, Be honest to the laments of here?

Remember that elegant statue that often infatuated me;
Gather that bold preview manifested in she.

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poem by Tuna Biswal
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