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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

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poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Press Intrusion

The World’s Press are often extremely intrusive,
Just so they can obtain a ‘world exclusive.’

When a celebrity pops out to buy a new pair of shoes,
It’s really not that thrilling or potential headline news.
We also see photos of celebs with spots on their faces,
And sweat patches under their arm pits, in some cases.

With really pointless pictures, they fill column space,
And, of everyone’s time and effort, it really is a waste.
The same old celebrities are pictured time and time again,
And it’s increasingly becoming a really annoying pain.

The Press are making themselves a real laughing stock.
And I feel on some of their activities, there should be a block.
They don’t care about anyone, who their actions may affect.
They hone in on the tiniest shred of emotion they can detect.

When celebs are doing normal things or are just on the phone,
The Press really need to just butt out and leave them all alone.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Walk, Press, Swim

Walk on, walk on
By the Power of the Spirit of the living God
Walk on, walk on.

I walk by a different drum
Walk on, walk on
By the Power of the Spirit of the living God
Walk on, walk on.

Seek truth, knowledge, wisdom, understanding.
Walk on, walk on,
By the Power of the Spirit of the living God
Walk on, walk on.

Walk in the water of the word.
Walk on, walk on
By the Power of the Spirit of the living God
Walk in the water of the word,
Walk on, walk on!

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poem by Katie J. Figueroa
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New Millenium Homes

Hungry people dont stay hungry for long
They get hope from fire and smoke as the wheat grows strong
Hungry people dont stay hungry for long
They get hope from fire and smoke as they reach for the dawn
Tha spirit of jackson
Now screams through tha ruins
Through factory chainsand tha ghost of tha union
Forgotten remains
Disappear to their new homes
Tha knife tha thrust
Tha life burns to the raw bone
Tha blood on the floor of the tear is still dryin
Cover the spread sheets
Tha dow jones skyin
Cell block live stock
Tha bodies their buyin
Old south order
New northern horizon
Violence in all hands
Embrace it if need be

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song performed by Rage Against The Machine
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The Press

The Soldier may forget his Sword,
The Sailorman the Sea,
The Mason may forget the Word
And the Priest his Litany:
The Maid may forget both jewel and gem,
And the Bride her wedding-dress--
But the Jew shall forget Jerusalem
Ere we forget the Press!

Who once hath stood through the loaded hour
Ere, roaring like the gale,
The Harrild and the Hoe devour
Their league-long paper-bale,
And has lit his pipe in the morning calm
That follows the midnight stress--
He hath sold his heart to the old Black Art
We call the daily Press.

Who once hath dealt in the widest game
That all of a man can play,

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poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Southern Press

When a Negro comes in question you may watch the Southern press,
See how bias its opinions, how his ills are given stress,
Prominence is given headlines, when accused he is of crime,
Emphasizes all the evils of the Negro ev'ry time.

If a white man comes in question you may watch the press again,
How its dignity it loses in a compromise with sin,
Down in some secluded corner you the story may behold,
Where the public may not find it, sadly there the tale is told.

It condemns the sins of Negroes which in white men 'twill excuse,
If a Negro's crime is grievous here's the heading it will use:
'He's a candidate for lynching,' in a type that's bold and plain,
If a heinous crime's committed by a white man, 'he's insane.'

When the Negroes prove their manhood and their homes protection give,
They're pronounced as desperadoes and too desperate to live,
Nothing like its ever published of a white man, though his case
May be ten times more revolting and far deeper the disgrace.

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poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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T Baggin' Skit

[Dial Tone]
[Numbers being pressed]
Hello, Thank you for calling Disturbing Tha Peace.
To help expodate your call, please listen carefully to the following options.
If you're calling to solicit to a demo tape, press 1.
If you're calling regarding a job, press 2.
If you're calling to borrow money, press 3.
If you're calling to find the nearest weed spot in your area, press 4.
If you're out of alcohol on Sunday, press 5.
If you need a ho for the evening, press 6.
If you woke up with a hang over, and a pair of hairy balls on your forehead, press 7
7.
[Number gets pressed]
You've just pressed 7.
You've been victimized and introduced to a moral crime known as t baggin'.
We suggest you probably hang up the phone,
Beat the ass of any white guys you hung out with last night
and find and destroy all photos before they appear on the internet.
Thank you for calling.
Good luck.

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song performed by Ludacris
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto VI.

I.
O who, that shared them, ever shall forget
The emotions of the spirit-rousing time,
When breathless in the mart the couriers met,
Early and late, at evening and at prime;
When the loud cannon and the merry chime
Hail'd news on news, as field on field was won,
When Hope, long doubtful, soar'd at length sublime,
And our glad eyes, awake as day begun,
Watch'd Joy's broad banner rise, to meet the rising sun!
O these were hours, when thrilling joy repaid
A long, long course of darkness, doubts, and fears!
The heart-sick faintness of the hope delay'd,
The waste, the woe, the bloodshed, and the tears,
That track'd with terror twenty rolling years,
All was forgot in that blithe jubilee!
Her downcast eye even pale Affliction rears,
To sigh a thankful prayer, amid the glee,
That hail'd the Despot's fall, and peace and liberty!

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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Metamorphoses: Book The Twelfth

PRIAM, to whom the story was unknown,
As dead, deplor'd his metamorphos'd son:
A cenotaph his name, and title kept,
And Hector round the tomb, with all his brothers,
wept.
This pious office Paris did not share;
Absent alone; and author of the war,
Which, for the Spartan queen, the Grecians drew
T' avenge the rape; and Asia to subdue.
The A thousand ships were mann'd, to sail the sea:
Trojan War Nor had their just resentments found delay,
Had not the winds, and waves oppos'd their way.
At Aulis, with united pow'rs they meet,
But there, cross-winds or calms detain'd the fleet.
Now, while they raise an altar on the shore,
And Jove with solemn sacrifice adore;
A boding sign the priests and people see:
A snake of size immense ascends a tree,
And, in the leafie summit, spy'd a nest,
Which o'er her callow young, a sparrow press'd.

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poem by Ovid
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Press On

[1st Verse:]
Life has a way of making you live it.
Sometimes it takes you to giving it.
Do you fold or do you play on?
The next move always depends on you.
If your work is good then it's trouble at home.
If your moves is right.
Then your dough is tight.
It's like running a engine on no fuel.
How do you play in a game with no rules?
[B-Sect:]
(It's always a fight).
A constant battle in my mind. (No place to run, no were to hide).
I gotta keep moving on, I gotta at least try...
(Dealing with the pressures of everyday life).
Gotta go the extra mile just can't throw in the towel.
You would be so amazed by the things that I can tell...
[Hook:]
I got troubles with in, troubles with out.
Making it threw but tryin' to figure it out.

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song performed by Mary J Blige
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