The stones of my native country are warmer than the ovens of Babylon.
Armenian proverbs
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The Prodigal Son
Young man—
Young man—
Your arm’s too short to box with God.
But Jesus spake in a parable, and he said:
A certain man had two sons.
Jesus didn’t give this man a name,
But his name is God Almighty.
And Jesus didn’t call these sons by name,
But ev’ry young man,
Ev’rywhere,
Is one of these two sons.
And the younger son said to his father,
He said: Father, divide up the property,
And give me my portion now.
And the father with tears in his eyes said: Son,
Don’t leave your father’s house.
But the boy was stubborn in his head,
And haughty in his heart,
And he took his share of his father’s goods,
And went into a far-off country.
There comes a time,
There comes a time
When ev’ry young man looks out from his father’s house,
Longing for that far-off country.
And the young man journeyed on his way,
And he said to himself as he travelled along:
This sure is an easy road,
Nothing like the rough furrows behind my father’s plow.
Young man—
Young man—
Smooth and easy is the road
That leads to hell and destruction.
Down grade all the way,
The further you travel, the faster you go.
No need to trudge and sweat and toil,
Just slip and slide and slip and slide
Till you bang up against hell’s iron gate.
[...] Read more
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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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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Babylon Feeling (feat. Carlos Santana)
My heart is broke, my will is gone
Fell in love with a woman named Babylon
She hook me to the gills
All of her forbidden thrills
I call her baby for short then I ramble on
She'll forget about me
My soul is high, my mind is free
Met a shorty with some back call her destiny
She showed me all my fates
My stream of conscious navigates
I orbit around the sun at high velocity
Don't forget about me
Don't forget about sweet things
Won't you save my soul
Pretty lady, won't you take me home
Sweet things
Won't you save my soul
Pretty lady, won't you take me home... tonight
My arms are heavy, my body's tense
Got the hots for this honey named confidence
She points out all of my flaws
Breaking all of her favorite laws
Never speaks a word in my defense
Just forget about me
My spirit's weak, my lust will thrive
Got a thing for this bitch
Said her name is a lie
She controls me with her fear
My prayers fall on her cold deaf ear
She says have a good time and take your dive
Just forget about me
Just forget about
Sweet things, won't you save my soul (Yeah)
Pretty lady, won't you take me home
Sweet thing won't you save my soul (Yeah)
Pretty lady won't you take me home... tonight
I've got a Babylon feelin'
I've got a Babylon feelin'
I've got a Babylon feelin'
I'm feelin' Babylon
My heart is broke, my will is gone
Fell in love with a woman named Babylon
She hook me to the gills
All of her forbidden thrills
I call her baby for short, then I ramble on
And I ramble on
I've got a Babylon feelin'
I've got a Babylon feelin'
I've got a Babylon
Feelin', Feelin', Feelin', yeah
[...] Read more
song performed by Everlast
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- quotes about home
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- quotes about height
- quotes about words
- quotes about worry
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- quotes about Sun
Babylon
Forever, youll be remembered as the one who played it cool
Whenever they speak your name theyll say its you who broke the golden rule
But heres what I really want to know
Did you see the writing on the wall
Chorus:
Babylon
How long can this foolish magic carry on
Babylon
Who will love you when the fantasy of youth is gone
Babylon is it true that your streets were paved with gold
And did you play beneath the stars
Babylon did you know it would all come down to
How you played the dealers cards
Remember how you loved the laughter
A kingdom on the rise
Crys in the night would turn you to song
And when they call ooh you sang along
Heres what I really want to know
Did you see the writing on the wall
Babylon
How long will this foolish magic carry on
Babylon
Who will love you when the fantasy of youth is gone
Babylon is it true that your streets were paved with gold
And did you play beneath the stars
Babylon did you know it would all come down to
How you played the dealers cards
Its over you rate two pages in some book
Your legacy
Lost in the night and still you sing your song
For those who will take heed
Heres what I really want to know
Did you see the writing on the wall
Babylon
How long will this foolish magic carry on
Babylon
Who will love you when the fantasy of youth is gone
Babylon is it true that your streets were paved with gold
And did you play beneath the stars
Babylon did you know it would all come down to
How you played the dealers cards...
song performed by Starship
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Child Of Babylon
(coverdale/marsden)
When I heard the sound of thunder
On the day that I was born,
I was blinded by the lighting
An baptised in the storm
My father started crying
When he saw what he had done,
But, my mother started praying
Have mercy on my son,
He is a child of babylon
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
When Ive fooled around so many times
When Ive known it aint been right,
But, I paint it all in colours
When it really should be black and white
I sail my ship through muddy waters,
Try to open every door,
When I saw the seven wonders
It left me wanting more
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, got no place to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
On my day of judgement
I know how it will be,
Im prepared to meet my maker
With no hope for charity
Ill stand alone and pay the price
For everything Ive done,
cos there aint guardian angel
For a child of babylon
I am a child,
A child of babylon
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, got no place to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
Child of babylon
song performed by Whitesnake
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Babylon
Babylon has fallen! Aye; but Babylon endures
Wherever human wisdom shines or human folly lures;
Where lovers lingering walk beside, and happy children play,
Is Babylon! Babylon! for ever and for aye.
The plan is rudely fashioned, the dream is unfulfilled,
Yet all is in the archetype if but a builder willed;
And Babylon is calling us, the microcosm of men,
To range her walls in harmony and lift her spires again;
The sternest walls, the proudest spires, that ever sun shone on,
Halting a space his burning race to gaze on Babylon.
Babylon has fallen! Aye; but Babylon shall stand:
The mantle of her majesty is over sea and land.
Hers is the name of challenge flung, a watchword in the fight
To grapple grim eternities and gain the old delight;
And in the word the dream is hid, and in the dream the deed,
And in the deed the mastery for those who dare to lead.
Surely her day shall come again, surely her breed be born
To urge the hope of humankind and scale the peaks of morn --
To fight as they who fought till death their bloody field upon,
And kept the gate against the Fate frowning on Babylon.
Babylon
poem by Alfred George Stephens
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The Burglar Of Babylon
On the fair green hills of Rio
There grows a fearful stain:
The poor who come to Rio
And can't go home again.
On the hills a million people,
A million sparrows, nest,
Like a confused migration
That's had to light and rest,
Building its nests, or houses,
Out of nothing at all, or air.
You'd think a breath would end them,
They perch so lightly there.
But they cling and spread like lichen,
And people come and come.
There's one hill called the Chicken,
And one called Catacomb;
There's the hill of Kerosene,
And the hill of Skeleton,
The hill of Astonishment,
And the hill of Babylon.
Micuçú was a burglar and killer,
An enemy of society.
He had escaped three times
From the worst penitentiary.
They don't know how many he murdered
(Though they say he never raped),
And he wounded two policemen
This last time he escaped.
They said, "He'll go to his auntie,
Who raised him like a son.
She has a little drink shop
On the hill of Babylon."
He did go straight to his auntie,
And he drank a final beer.
He told her, "The soldiers are coming,
And I've got to disappear."
"Ninety years they gave me.
Who wants to live that long?
I'll settle for ninety hours,
On the hill of Babylon.
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Temporary Poem Of My Time
Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west,
Latin writing, from west to east.
Languages are like cats:
You must not stroke their hair the wrong way.
The clouds come from the sea, the hot wind from the desert,
The trees bend in the wind,
And stones fly from all four winds,
Into all four winds. They throw stones,
Throw this land, one at the other,
But the land always falls back to the land.
They throw the land, want to get rid of it.
Its stones, its soil, but you can't get rid of it.
They throw stones, throw stones at me
In 1936, 1938, 1948, 1988,
Semites throw at Semites and anti-Semites at anti-Semites,
Evil men throw and just men throw,
Sinners throw and tempters throw,
Geologists throw and theologists throw,
Archaelogists throw and archhooligans throw,
Kidneys throw stones and gall bladders throw,
Head stones and forehead stones and the heart of a stone,
Stones shaped like a screaming mouth
And stones fitting your eyes
Like a pair of glasses,
The past throws stones at the future,
And all of them fall on the present.
Weeping stones and laughing gravel stones,
Even God in the Bible threw stones,
Even the Urim and Tumim were thrown
And got stuck in the beastplate of justice,
And Herod threw stones and what came out was a Temple.
Oh, the poem of stone sadness
Oh, the poem thrown on the stones
Oh, the poem of thrown stones.
Is there in this land
A stone that was never thrown
And never built and never overturned
And never uncovered and never discovered
And never screamed from a wall and never discarded by the builders
And never closed on top of a grave and never lay under lovers
And never turned into a cornerstone?
Please do not throw any more stones,
You are moving the land,
The holy, whole, open land,
You are moving it to the sea
And the sea doesn't want it
The sea says, not in me.
[...] Read more
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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Babylon Feeling
Feat. carlos santana
My heart is broke, my will is gone
Fell in love with a woman named babylon
She hook me to the gills all of her forbidden thrills
I call her baby for short then I ramble on
Shell forget about me
My soul is high, my mind is free
Met a shorty with some back call her destiny
She showed me all my fates, my stream of conscious navigates
I orbit around the sun at high velocity
Dont forget about me, dont forget about
Sweet things wont you save my soul
Pretty lady, wont you take me home x2...tonight
My arms are heavy, my bodys tense
Got the hots for this honey named confidence
She points out all of my flaws, breaking all of her favorite laws
Never speaks a word in my defense, just forget about me
My spirits weak, my lust will thrive
Got a thing for this bitch said her names a lie
She controls me with her fear, my prayers fall on her cold deaf ear
She says have a good time and take your dive
Just forget about me, just forget about
Sweet things, wont you save my soul (yeah)
Pretty lady, wont you take me home
Sweet thing wont you save my soul (yeah)
Pretty lady wont you take me home...tonight
Ive got a babylon feelin, Ive got a babylon feelin
Ive got a babylon feelin, Im feelin babylon
My heart is broke, my will is gone
Fell in love with a woman named babylon
She hook me to the gills, all of her forbidden thrills
I call her baby for short then I ramble on, and I ramble on
Ive got a babylon feelin, Ive got a babylon feelin
Ive got a babylon feelin, feelin, feelin, yeah x4
song performed by Everlast
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The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian, beginning under Alexander the Great in the 112. Olympiad.
Great Alexander was wise Philips son,
He to Amyntas, Kings of Macedon;
The cruel proud Olympias was his Mother,
She to Epirus warlike King was daughter.
This Prince (his father by Pausanias slain)
The twenty first of's age began to reign.
Great were the Gifts of nature which he had,
His education much to those did adde:
By art and nature both he was made fit,
To 'complish that which long before was writ.
The very day of his Nativity
To ground was burnt Dianaes Temple high:
An Omen to their near approaching woe,
Whose glory to the earth this king did throw.
His Rule to Greece he scorn'd should be confin'd,
The Universe scarce bound his proud vast mind.
This is the He-Goat which from Grecia came,
That ran in Choler on the Persian Ram,
That brake his horns, that threw him on the ground
To save him from his might no man was found:
Philip on this great Conquest had an eye,
But death did terminate those thoughts so high.
The Greeks had chose him Captain General,
Which honour to his Son did now befall.
(For as Worlds Monarch now we speak not on,
But as the King of little Macedon)
Restless both day and night his heart then was,
His high resolves which way to bring to pass;
Yet for a while in Greece is forc'd to stay,
Which makes each moment seem more then a day.
Thebes and stiff Athens both 'gainst him rebel,
Their mutinies by valour doth he quell.
This done against both right and natures Laws,
His kinsmen put to death, who gave no cause;
That no rebellion in in his absence be,
Nor making Title unto Sovereignty.
And all whom he suspects or fears will climbe,
Now taste of death least they deserv'd in time,
Nor wonder is t if he in blood begin,
For Cruelty was his parental sin,
Thus eased now of troubles and of fears,
Next spring his course to Asia he steers;
Leavs Sage Antipater, at home to sway,
And through the Hellispont his Ships made way.
Coming to Land, his dart on shore he throws,
Then with alacrity he after goes;
And with a bount'ous heart and courage brave,
His little wealth among his Souldiers gave.
And being ask'd what for himself was left,
Reply'd, enough, sith only hope he kept.
[...] Read more
poem by Anne Bradstreet
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The Four Seasons : Autumn
Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost
Nitrous prepared; the various blossom'd Spring
Put in white promise forth; and Summer-suns
Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view,
Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme.
Onslow! the Muse, ambitious of thy name,
To grace, inspire, and dignify her song,
Would from the public voice thy gentle ear
A while engage. Thy noble cares she knows,
The patriot virtues that distend thy thought,
Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow;
While listening senates hang upon thy tongue,
Devolving through the maze of eloquence
A roll of periods, sweeter than her song.
But she too pants for public virtue, she,
Though weak of power, yet strong in ardent will,
Whene'er her country rushes on her heart,
Assumes a bolder note, and fondly tries
To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame.
When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days,
And Libra weighs in equal scales the year;
From Heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook
Of parting Summer, a serener blue,
With golden light enliven'd, wide invests
The happy world. Attemper'd suns arise,
Sweet-beam'd, and shedding oft through lucid clouds
A pleasing calm; while broad, and brown, below
Extensive harvests hang the heavy head.
Rich, silent, deep, they stand; for not a gale
Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain:
A calm of plenty! till the ruffled air
Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow.
Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky;
The clouds fly different; and the sudden sun
By fits effulgent gilds the illumined field,
And black by fits the shadows sweep along.
A gaily chequer'd heart-expanding view,
Far as the circling eye can shoot around,
Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn.
These are thy blessings, Industry! rough power!
Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain;
Yet the kind source of every gentle art,
And all the soft civility of life:
Raiser of human kind! by Nature cast,
Naked, and helpless, out amid the woods
And wilds, to rude inclement elements;
With various seeds of art deep in the mind
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poem by James Thomson
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Rivers Of Babylon
By the rivers of babylon, there we sat down
Ye-eah we wept, when we remembered zion.
By the rivers of babylon, there we sat down
Ye-eah we wept, when we remembered zion.
When the wicked
Carried us away in captivity
Required from us a song
Now how shall we sing the lords song in a strange land
When the wicked
Carried us away in captivity
Requiering of us a song
Now how shall we sing the lords song in a strange land
Let the words of our mouth and the meditations of our heart
Be acceptable in thy sight here tonight
Let the words of our mouth and the meditation of our hearts
Be acceptable in thy sight here tonight
By the rivers of babylon, there we sat down
Ye-eah we wept, when we remembered zion.
By the rivers of babylon, there we sat down
Ye-eah we wept, when we remembered zion.
By the rivers of babylon (dark tears of babylon)
There we sat down (you got to sing a song)
Ye-eah we wept, (sing a song of love)
When we remember zion. (yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)
By the rivers of babylon (rough bits of babylon)
There we sat down (you hear the people cry)
Ye-eah we wept, (they need their God)
When we remember zion. (ooh, have the power)
song performed by Boney M.
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The White Cliffs
I
I have loved England, dearly and deeply,
Since that first morning, shining and pure,
The white cliffs of Dover I saw rising steeply
Out of the sea that once made her secure.
I had no thought then of husband or lover,
I was a traveller, the guest of a week;
Yet when they pointed 'the white cliffs of Dover',
Startled I found there were tears on my cheek.
I have loved England, and still as a stranger,
Here is my home and I still am alone.
Now in her hour of trial and danger,
Only the English are really her own.
II
It happened the first evening I was there.
Some one was giving a ball in Belgrave Square.
At Belgrave Square, that most Victorian spot.—
Lives there a novel-reader who has not
At some time wept for those delightful girls,
Daughters of dukes, prime ministers and earls,
In bonnets, berthas, bustles, buttoned basques,
Hiding behind their pure Victorian masks
Hearts just as hot - hotter perhaps than those
Whose owners now abandon hats and hose?
Who has not wept for Lady Joan or Jill
Loving against her noble parent's will
A handsome guardsman, who to her alarm
Feels her hand kissed behind a potted palm
At Lady Ivry's ball the dreadful night
Before his regiment goes off to fight;
And see him the next morning, in the park,
Complete in busbee, marching to embark.
I had read freely, even as a child,
Not only Meredith and Oscar Wilde
But many novels of an earlier day—
Ravenshoe, Can You Forgive Her?, Vivien Grey,
Ouida, The Duchess, Broughton's Red As a Rose,
Guy Livingstone, Whyte-Melville— Heaven knows
What others. Now, I thought, I was to see
Their habitat, though like the Miller of Dee,
I cared for none and no one cared for me.
III
A light blue carpet on the stair
And tall young footmen everywhere,
Tall young men with English faces
Standing rigidly in their places,
Rows and rows of them stiff and staid
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poem by Alice Duer Miller
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The four Monarchyes, the Assyrian being the first, beginning under Nimrod, 131. Years after the Floo
When time was young, & World in Infancy,
Man did not proudly strive for Soveraignty:
But each one thought his petty Rule was high,
If of his house he held the Monarchy.
This was the golden Age, but after came
The boisterous son of Chus, Grand-Child to Ham,
That mighty Hunter, who in his strong toyles
Both Beasts and Men subjected to his spoyles:
The strong foundation of proud Babel laid,
Erech, Accad, and Culneh also made.
These were his first, all stood in Shinar land,
From thence he went Assyria to command,
And mighty Niniveh, he there begun,
Not finished till he his race had run.
Resen, Caleh, and Rehoboth likewise
By him to Cities eminent did rise.
Of Saturn, he was the Original,
Whom the succeeding times a God did call,
When thus with rule, he had been dignifi'd,
One hundred fourteen years he after dy'd.
Belus.
Great Nimrod dead, Belus the next his Son
Confirms the rule, his Father had begun;
Whose acts and power is not for certainty
Left to the world, by any History.
But yet this blot for ever on him lies,
He taught the people first to Idolize:
Titles Divine he to himself did take,
Alive and dead, a God they did him make.
This is that Bel the Chaldees worshiped,
Whose Priests in Stories oft are mentioned;
This is that Baal to whom the Israelites
So oft profanely offered sacred Rites:
This is Beelzebub God of Ekronites,
Likewise Baalpeor of the Mohabites,
His reign was short, for as I calculate,
At twenty five ended his Regal date.
Ninus.
His Father dead, Ninus begins his reign,
Transfers his seat to the Assyrian plain;
And mighty Nineveh more mighty made,
Whose Foundation was by his Grand-sire laid:
Four hundred forty Furlongs wall'd about,
On which stood fifteen hundred Towers stout.
The walls one hundred sixty foot upright,
So broad three Chariots run abrest there might.
Upon the pleasant banks of Tygris floud
This stately Seat of warlike Ninus stood:
This Ninus for a God his Father canonized,
To whom the sottish people sacrificed.
[...] Read more
poem by Anne Bradstreet
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Love and Honor
Sed neque Medorum silvae, ditissima terra
Nec pulcher Ganges, atque auro turbidus Haemus,
Laudibus Angligenum certent; non Bactra, nec Indi,
Totaque thuriferis Panchaia pinguis arenis.
Imitation.
Yet let not Median woods, (abundant track!)
Nor Ganges fair, nor Haemus, miser-like,
Proud of his hoarded gold, presume to vie
With Britain's boast and praise; nor Persian Bactra,
Nor India's coasts, nor all Panchaia's sands,
Rich, and exulting in their lofty towers.
____
Let the green olive glad Hesperian shores;
Her tawny citron, and her orange groves,
These let Iberia boast; but if in vain,
To win the stranger plant's diffusive smile,
The Briton labours, yet our native minds,
Our constant bosoms, these the dazzled world
May view with envy; these Iberian dames
Survey with fix'd esteem and fond desire.
Hapless Elvira! thy disastrous fate
May well this truth explain, nor ill adorn
The British lyre; then chiefly, if the Muse,
Nor vain, nor partial, from the simple guise
Of ancient record catch the pensive lay,
And in less grovelling accents give to Fame.
Elvira! loveliest maid! the Iberian realm
Could boast no purer breast, no sprightlier mind,
No race more splendent, and no form so fair.
Such was the chance of war, this peerless maid,
In life's luxuriant bloom, enrich'd the spoil
Of British victors, victory's noblest pride!
She, she alone, amid the wailful train
Of captive maids, assign'd to Henry's care,
Lord of her life, her fortune, and her fame!
He, generous youth! with no penurious hand,
The tedious moments, that unjoyous roll
Where Freedom's cheerful radiance shines no more,
Essay'd to soften; conscious of the pang
That Beauty feels, to waste its fleeting hours
In some dim fort, by foreign rule restrain'd,
Far from the haunts of men, or eye of day!
Sometimes, to cheat her bosom of its cares,
Her kind protector number'd o'er the toils
Himself had worn; the frowns of angry seas,
Or hostile rage, or faithless friend, more fell
[...] Read more
poem by William Shenstone
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Breathe Babylon
Chorus
Babylon breathe babylon
I see you people babylon and on and on
Graven images, golden idols and false icons
Im seeking wisdom like solomon
But my antenae keeps on picking up evil transmissions
At headquarters I receive my mission
Blow up the ruler of the air like nuclear fission
So I analyze my weapons, laser guided rifles that shoot spiritual wisdom
I think I see enemy warriors,
Fragile heathens tryin to run stuff like mayors
So with brothas that snuff punks,
I set up time bombs to destroy the strong holds of babylon
Babylon breathe babylon
8x
We be tribes under grace, a righteous minority
Decadent culture make you forget your spiritual priority
Back down by the movement, soldiers who will serve ya
Open to be used by god, destroy you like medo-persia
Jewel of all kingdoms, live evil, purified hurrah take you down
Dont look back, overthrown you like sodom and gomorrah arm of the law
Guilty of all crimes I be like the great prophet isiah
Predict your fall over 150 times, got rhymes you could never use
For the purpose you be using, Ill dance over your fields
Present day iraq still lies in ruins lies,
Schemes, backstab persuasions bumrushed
Get crushed by us, this rescue invasion
Chorus
8x
Look to the sky, heed the warning
The shadow is coming, the shadow is coming
8x
The plagues are coming, the plagues are coming
I feel the breath of the death beast
4x
Misled bureaucracy, full of hypocrisy
I gotta steel pulse, looking for a true democracy
Destruction, now your walls have fallen
Just sitting here waiting for the train to zion
Sit down in the dust, babylon without a throne to call your own is 47:1
The city has fallen, she has fallen golden images of its god
Lie shattered on the ground
song performed by P.O.D.
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If You're Traveling Through Babylon
If you're traveling through Babylon,
Keep your respect in check.
Keep your inner vision there protected.
And...
Don't try to reflect what is best.
And if you're traveling through Babylon,
You'll see many people there neglected.
But,
Keep this in perspective...
You are not of it.
You're only in it...
And for a 'minute'.
If you're traveling through Babylon...
Don't let you jaw drop.
With your eyes bugged out.
You may see many people there...
Who don't respect or even care.
You may see them swapping mates for sex.
But don't be sold to get naked and sweat.
Remember you're in Babylon.
Where the people turn their lies on.
If you're traveling through Babylon...
Don't let you jaw drop,
With your eyes bugged out.
You may see many people there...
Who don't respect or even care.
You may see them swapping mates for sex.
But don't be sold to get naked and sweat.
Remember you're in Babylon.
Where the people turn their lies on.
And if you're traveling through Babylon,
You'll see many people there neglected.
But,
Keep this in perspective...
You are not of it.
You're only in it...
And for a 'minute'.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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where are your powers Babylon?
Illustrious Babylon
where are your powers now?
city of fame
city of gold and silver
city of a famous name
where are your powers now?
city of wonders
empire of sin
Babylon
city of ruins
mighty Babylon
city of prowess
empire of old
empire of supremacy
rich with stolen gold
where are you now?
city of the hanging gardens
city holding the righteous captive
where are your powers Babylon?
city of desolate wastes
ferocious Babylon
look out over the valley
Cyrus the great of Persia
with his army of men
and Darius the Mede
with his army of men
diverting the great river Euphrates
and sneaking under your walls
your 'impenetrible walls
Babylon
city of ruins
Where are your powers
King Nebuchadnezzar?
your colossal gate is open
your subjects are drunk
drunk with wine and blood
unaware of approaching destruction
living their normal course of life
where are you now Babylon?
heaped in ruin and desolation
...forever
now just a dry desert plain
and the wind goes...hush...
poem by Allen Steble
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Blame It On The Stones
Mister marvin middle class is really in a stew
Wondrin what the younger generations coming to
And the taste of his martini doesnt please his bitter tongue
Blame it on the rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better, knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; save the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Mother tells the ladies at the bridge club every day
Of the rising price of tranquilizers she must pay
And she wonders why the children never seem to stay at home
Blame it on the rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better, knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; save the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Fathers at the office, nightly working all the time
Trying to make the secretary change her little mind
And it bothers him to read about so many broken homes
Blame it on those rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; same the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Blame it on the stones, blame it on the stones.
song performed by Kris Kristofferson
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Oh, thou, in Hellas deemed of heavenly birth,
Muse, formed or fabled at the minstrel’s will!
Since shamed full oft by later lyres on earth,
Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred hill:
Yet there I’ve wandered by thy vaunted rill;
Yes! sighed o’er Delphi’s long-deserted shrine
Where, save that feeble fountain, all is still;
Nor mote my shell awake the weary Nine
To grace so plain a tale - this lowly lay of mine.
II.
Whilome in Albion’s isle there dwelt a youth,
Who ne in virtue’s ways did take delight;
But spent his days in riot most uncouth,
And vexed with mirth the drowsy ear of Night.
Ah, me! in sooth he was a shameless wight,
Sore given to revel and ungodly glee;
Few earthly things found favour in his sight
Save concubines and carnal companie,
And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree.
III.
Childe Harold was he hight: - but whence his name
And lineage long, it suits me not to say;
Suffice it, that perchance they were of fame,
And had been glorious in another day:
But one sad losel soils a name for aye,
However mighty in the olden time;
Nor all that heralds rake from coffined clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honeyed lines of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.
IV.
Childe Harold basked him in the noontide sun,
Disporting there like any other fly,
Nor deemed before his little day was done
One blast might chill him into misery.
But long ere scarce a third of his passed by,
Worse than adversity the Childe befell;
He felt the fulness of satiety:
Then loathed he in his native land to dwell,
Which seemed to him more lone than eremite’s sad cell.
V.
For he through Sin’s long labyrinth had run,
Nor made atonement when he did amiss,
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)
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