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That the Jews assumed a right exclusively to the benefits of God will be a lasting witness against them and the same will it be against Christians.

quote by William Blake
Added by Lucian Velea
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Satan Absolved

(In the antechamber of Heaven. Satan walks alone. Angels in groups conversing.)
Satan. To--day is the Lord's ``day.'' Once more on His good pleasure
I, the Heresiarch, wait and pace these halls at leisure
Among the Orthodox, the unfallen Sons of God.
How sweet in truth Heaven is, its floors of sandal wood,
Its old--world furniture, its linen long in press,
Its incense, mummeries, flowers, its scent of holiness!
Each house has its own smell. The smell of Heaven to me
Intoxicates and haunts,--and hurts. Who would not be
God's liveried servant here, the slave of His behest,
Rather than reign outside? I like good things the best,
Fair things, things innocent; and gladly, if He willed,
Would enter His Saints' kingdom--even as a little child.

[Laughs. I have come to make my peace, to crave a full amaun,
Peace, pardon, reconcilement, truce to our daggers--drawn,
Which have so long distraught the fair wise Universe,
An end to my rebellion and the mortal curse
Of always evil--doing. He will mayhap agree
I was less wholly wrong about Humanity
The day I dared to warn His wisdom of that flaw.
It was at least the truth, the whole truth, I foresaw
When He must needs create that simian ``in His own
Image and likeness.'' Faugh! the unseemly carrion!
I claim a new revision and with proofs in hand,
No Job now in my path to foil me and withstand.
Oh, I will serve Him well!
[Certain Angels approach. But who are these that come
With their grieved faces pale and eyes of martyrdom?
Not our good Sons of God? They stop, gesticulate,
Argue apart, some weep,--weep, here within Heaven's gate!
Sob almost in God's sight! ay, real salt human tears,
Such as no Spirit wept these thrice three thousand years.
The last shed were my own, that night of reprobation
When I unsheathed my sword and headed the lost nation.
Since then not one of them has spoken above his breath
Or whispered in these courts one word of life or death
Displeasing to the Lord. No Seraph of them all,
Save I this day each year, has dared to cross Heaven's hall
And give voice to ill news, an unwelcome truth to Him.
Not Michael's self hath dared, prince of the Seraphim.
Yet all now wail aloud.--What ails ye, brethren? Speak!
Are ye too in rebellion? Angels. Satan, no. But weak
With our long earthly toil, the unthankful care of Man.

Satan. Ye have in truth good cause.

Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.

[...] Read more

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Filippo Baldinucci on the Privilege of Burial

"No, boy, we must not"—so began
My Uncle (he's with God long since),
A-petting me, the good old man!
"We must not"—and he seemed to wince,
And lost that laugh whereto had grown
His chuckle at my piece of news,
How cleverly I aimed my stone—
"I fear we must not pelt the Jews!

"When I was young indeed,—ah, faith
Was young and strong in Florence too!
We Christians never dreamed of scathe
Because we cursed or kicked the crew.
But now, well, well! The olive-crops
Weighed double then, and Arno's pranks
Would always spare religious shops
Whenever he o'erflowed his banks!

"I'll tell you"—and his eye regained
Its twinkle—"tell you something choice!
Something may help you keep unstained
Your honest zeal to stop the voice
Of unbelief with stone-throw, spite
Of laws, which modern fools enact,
That we must suffer Jews in sight
Go wholly unmolested! Fact!

"There was, then, in my youth, and yet
Is, by our San Frediano, just
Below the Blessed Olivet,
A wayside ground wherein they thrust
Their dead,—these Jews,—the more our shame!
Except that, so they will but die,
Christians perchance incur no blame
In giving hogs a hoist to stye.

"There, anyhow, Jews stow away
Their dead; and,—such their insolence,—
Slink at odd times to sing and pray
As Christians do—all make-pretence!—
Which wickedness they perpetrate
Because they think no Christians see.
They reckoned here, at any rate,
Without their host: ha, ha, he, he!

"For, what should join their plot of ground
But a good Farmer's Christian field?
The Jews had hedged their corner round
With bramble-bush to keep concealed
Their doings: for the public road

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from Pacchiarotto (1876)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Witness 4 The Prosecution

I am a witness 4 the prosecution of a hate in this love affair
I who am guilty of nothing but always wantin' 2 be there
Mama, I swear I love U, I always have
In school I once traded chairs
If I couldn't be near U, I wanted what was yours
Now I just want U 2 care
I am a witness (Witness)
I am a witness 4 the prosecution of a hate in this love affair
(Witness 4 the prosecution)
Aah yeah
Whatever it is U think that I did
U're wrong, I wouldn't even dare
Cuz U know
I am a witness 4 the prosecution of a hate in this love affair
(Witness 4 the prosecution)
Yes I am
Don't U know I am ...
I am a witness, witness (Witness 4 the prosecution)
Witness 4 the prosecution {x2}
I am a witness 4 the prosecution of a hate in this love affair, yeah
I who am guilty of nothing but always wantin' 2 be there, be there
Oh, I swear by heaven I love U, I always have
In school I once traded chairs
If I couldn't be near U, I wanted what was yours
Now I just want U 2 care
I am a witness 4 the prosecution of a hate in this love affair
(Witness 4 the prosecution)
Yes I am
Let me tell U, whatever it is U think that I did
U're wrong, I wouldn't even dare
No, no, no (Witness 4 the prosecution)
(Witness 4 the prosecution)
(Witness 4 the prosecution)
Witness, witness
Witness, witness
Witness, ooh, witness
Witness 4 the prosecution of a hate in this love affair
Witness, witness
Witness 4 the prosecution {x2}
Guilty, 7 years hard labor, take him away

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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‘Bees will Return to Hives! ’

The Saffronization of India?
–Phulbani, Kandhammal, Orissa, India.
'Calm follows every storm;
But Christians must be calm! '

‘Where martyrs’ blood be spilt,
More churches will be built!
Without much shame or guilt,
Fanatics hit the hilt’

Their saffron hues, they spray
On Dalit Christians, aye!
They won’t allow them pray;
They hunt them night and day!

What tragedy now looms!
‘Turn Hindu, ’ call now booms;
‘Or die; be bruised and maimed! ’
Why Christians all are blamed?

Frenzied mobs on rampage:
A war on Christians wage;
Conversion is their lie,
As Christians many die!

Can’t one profess their faith
Of choice and freedom, say?
Are Christians not Indians?
God will show them their way!

Such states are keeping quiet;
They want Christians to fight;
‘Violence begets violence’
Most Christians stay calm, hence.

Are there no basic rights?
Most Christian homes lost lights;
Hundreds have been destroyed;
Pleas have gone null and void.

Most Christians are too hurt;
No one seems to regret;
Churches are simply torched,
And human beings scorched!

As angry mobs destroy,
And loot the Christian homes;
And burn them down overnight;
O, see the Dalit’s plight!

[...] Read more

poem by John Celes
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Absalom and Achitophel

In pious times, e'er Priest-craft did begin,
Before Polygamy was made a sin;
When man, on many, multiply'd his kind,
E'r one to one was, cursedly, confind:
When Nature prompted, and no law deny'd
Promiscuous use of Concubine and Bride;
Then, Israel's monarch, after Heaven's own heart,
His vigorous warmth did, variously, impart
To Wives and Slaves; And, wide as his Command,
Scatter'd his Maker's Image through the Land.
Michal, of Royal blood, the Crown did wear,
A Soyl ungratefull to the Tiller's care;
Not so the rest; for several Mothers bore
To Godlike David, several Sons before.
But since like slaves his bed they did ascend,
No True Succession could their seed attend.
Of all this Numerous Progeny was none
So Beautifull, so brave as Absalon:
Whether, inspir'd by some diviner Lust,
His father got him with a greater Gust;
Or that his Conscious destiny made way
By manly beauty to Imperiall sway.
Early in Foreign fields he won Renown,
With Kings and States ally'd to Israel's Crown
In Peace the thoughts of War he could remove,
And seem'd as he were only born for love.
What e'er he did was done with so much ease,
In him alone, 'twas Natural to please.
His motions all accompanied with grace;
And Paradise was open'd in his face.
With secret Joy, indulgent David view'd
His Youthfull Image in his Son renew'd:
To all his wishes Nothing he deny'd,
And made the Charming Annabel his Bride.
What faults he had (for who from faults is free?)
His Father could not, or he would not see.
Some warm excesses, which the Law forbore,
Were constru'd Youth that purg'd by boyling o'r:
And Amnon's Murther, by a specious Name,
Was call'd a Just Revenge for injur'd Fame.
Thus Prais'd, and Lov'd, the Noble Youth remain'd,
While David, undisturb'd, in Sion raign'd.
But Life can never be sincerely blest:
Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best.
The Jews, a Headstrong, Moody, Murmuring race,
As ever try'd th' extent and stretch of grace;
God's pamper'd people whom, debauch'd with ease,
No King could govern, nor no God could please;
(Gods they had tri'd of every shape and size
That Gods-smiths could produce, or Priests devise.)

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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Poem: Will You Travel With Me To Heaven?

When you wake up in the morning
From a dream you think is okay
You see your spouse and family
Get ready for another day

The dream you saw, the things you see
The bed on which you soundly sleep
Your kids all grown up, your husband
And old memories that you keep

Who do you think created them?
Were they created from nothing?
If there is no god who made these
All, then what's the point of living?

D'you think we were made from nothing
Then from nothing we live for fun
To eat and drink, to love and hate
Then when we die, what comes is none?

The eyes with which your body sees
Those sockets that keep your eyeballs
The mouth you use for food and speech
The way you answer random calls

The languages you use to speak
And another –your mother tongue-
The way you carry yourself, and
How you breathe through your heart and lungs

The muscles that stretch when you smile
Your friends who often make you laugh
The words you try to understand
And how you sign your name so fast

Your kids who once stayed in your womb
The months you carried them in you
Your feelings when you saw their first
Walk and when they smile back at you

The food you eat and cook each day
The rainfalls that fall from above
The earth you walk on each night and

[...] Read more

poem by Miriam Mababaya
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Exclusively Aloof

You dip in your evils.
While others choose to sneak,
On those who sleep.

You dip in your evils.
While others choose to sneak,
On those who sleep.

There are sneaks and evil people...
Creeping up on people.

But I find that I am,
Exclusively elusive.
And I find that I can be exclusively aloof.
Yes I find that I can be exclusively elusive,
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Can choose those things you do.

You dip in your evils.
While others choose to sneak,
On those who sleep.

But I find that I am,
Exclusively elusive.
And I find that I can be exclusively aloof.
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Can choose those things you do.

There are sneaks and evil people.
Creeping up on people.
And I find that I can be exclusively aloof.
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Can choose those things you do.

Yes I find that I can be exclusively elusive,
And I find that I can be exclusively aloof.
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Can choose those things you do.

You dip in your evils.
And I find that I am exclusively aloof.
Others creep on people.
Yet I find that I can be exclusively elusive,
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Choose that what you do.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Who Benefits From A Not Getting Of It?

No one's here to endure pain or suffering.
No one can explain to what gain pain brings.

Who benefits from sacrificing love?
Who benefits from sacrificing joy?
Who benefits from,
A not getting of it?
Who benefits from,
A missing of this?

Who benefits from sacrificing love?
Who benefits from,
A not getting of it.
Who benefits from,
A missing of this.

Who benefits from sacrificing joy.
Who benefits from,
Not getting it.
Who benefits from,
A missing of this.

People,
Are not getting...
What prophets are saying 'bout powers of love.
People,
Are not getting...
What prophets are saying 'bout powers of love.

No one's here to endure pain or suffering.
No one can explain to what gain pain brings.

People,
Are not getting...
What prophets are saying 'bout powers of love.
People,
Are not getting...
What prophets are saying 'bout powers of love.

Who benefits from a not getting of it.
People,
Are not getting...
What prophets are saying 'bout powers of love.
People,
Are not getting...
What prophets are saying 'bout powers of love.

Who benefits from a not getting of it.
Who benefits from a not getting of it.
People,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Saw It Myself (Short Verse Drama)

Dramatis Personae: Adrian, his wife Ester, his sisters Rebecca and Johanna, his mother Elizabeth, the high priest Chiapas, the disciple Simon Peter, the disciple John, Mary Magdalene, worshipers, priests, two angels and Jesus Christ.

Act I

Scene I.- Adrian’s house in Jerusalem. Adrian has just returned home after a business journey in Galilee, in time to attend the Passover feast. He sits at the table with his wife Ester and his sisters, Rebecca and Johanna. It’s just before sunset on the Friday afternoon.

Adrian. (Somewhat puzzled) Strange things are happening,
some say demons dwell upon the earth,
others angelic beings, miracles take place
and all of this when they had put a man to death,
had crucified a criminal. Everybody knows
the cross is used for degenerates only!

Rebecca. (With a pleasant voice) Such harsh words used,
for a good, a great man brother?
They say that without charge
he healed the sick, brought back sight,
cured leprosy, even made some more food,
from a few fishes and loafs of bread…

Adrian. (Somewhat harsh) They say many things!
That he rode into Jerusalem
to be crowned as the new king,
was a rebel against the state,
even claimed to be
the very Son of God,
now that is blasphemy
if there is no truth to it!

Johanna. I met him once.
He’s not the man
that you make him, brother.
There was a strange tranquilly to Him.
Some would say a divine presence,
while He spoke of love that is selfless,
visited the sick, the poor
and even the destitute, even harlots.

Adrian. (Looks up) There you have it!
Harlots! Tax collecting thieves!
A man is know by his friends,
or so they say and probably
there is some truth to it.

Ester. Husband, do not be so quick to judge.
I have seen Him myself, have seen
Roman soldiers marching Him to the hill
to take His life, with a angry crowd
following and mocking Him.

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Our God is a God of mercy and of grace. (Gerald Albright's Kicking it up #6)

God, I just do not understand why
You treat me so good everyday.
In spite of all of my sins and all of my mistakes,
You are still good to me.
Yes, you are; my God really is.

My God is so wonderful.
He has provided for all of my needs.
He created the sun to shine brightly everyday.
God has supplied the very air that I breathe.
Yes, He does.

My God is so good to me each day.
He has provided for all of my needs.
God sends out the cooling invisible breeze.
He produced all of the food that I eat.
Yes he does; now help me say it.

Our God is a God of mercy.
He truly deserves all of our praise.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
O’ Yes, I know that our God is.

Our God is a God of mercy.
He wakes us up every single day.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
O’ Yes, I know that our God is.

My God is so wonderful.
He provides me with His grace each day.
All I need to do is confess my sins to Him,
He has promised to forgive every one.
Yes, He does.
All that God has ask me to do
Is give to Him all of my praise every day.
By the life that I have chosen to live
I must show the world that my God is.
Now open your mouth and help me praise Him.

Our God is a God of mercy.
He truly deserves all of our praise.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
O’ Yes, I know that our God is.

Our God is a God of mercy.
He wakes us up every single day.
Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.
O’ Yes, I know that our God is.

Our God is a God of mercy and of grace.

[...] Read more

poem by Reginald Walker
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Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 2

LET PETER rejoice with the MOON FISH who keeps up the life in the waters by night.

Let Andrew rejoice with the Whale, who is array'd in beauteous blue and is a combination of bulk and activity.

Let James rejoice with the Skuttle-Fish, who foils his foe by the effusion of his ink.

Let John rejoice with Nautilus who spreads his sail and plies his oar, and the Lord is his pilot.

Let Philip rejoice with Boca, which is a fish that can speak.

Let Bartholomew rejoice with the Eel, who is pure in proportion to where he is found and how he is used.

Let Thomas rejoice with the Sword-Fish, whose aim is perpetual and strength insuperable.

Let Matthew rejoice with Uranoscopus, whose eyes are lifted up to God.

Let James the less, rejoice with the Haddock, who brought the piece of money for the Lord and Peter.

Let Jude bless with the Bream, who is of melancholy from his depth and serenity.

Let Simon rejoice with the Sprat, who is pure and innumerable.

Let Matthias rejoice with the Flying-Fish, who has a part with the birds, and is sublimity in his conceit.

Let Stephen rejoice with Remora -- The Lord remove all obstacles to his glory.

Let Paul rejoice with the Scale, who is pleasant and faithful!, like God's good ENGLISHMAN.

Let Agrippa, which is Agricola, rejoice with Elops, who is a choice fish.

Let Joseph rejoice with the Turbut, whose capture makes the poor fisher-man sing.

Let Mary rejoice with the Maid -- blessed be the name of the immaculate CONCEPTION.

Let John, the Baptist, rejoice with the Salmon -- blessed be the name of the Lord Jesus for infant Baptism.

Let Mark rejoice with the Mullet, who is John Dore, God be gracious to him and his family.

Let Barnabus rejoice with the Herring -- God be gracious to the Lord's fishery.

Let Cleopas rejoice with the Mackerel, who cometh in a shoal after a leader.

Let Abiud of the Lord's line rejoice with Murex, who is good and of a precious tincture.

Let Eliakim rejoice with the Shad, who is contemned in his abundance.

Let Azor rejoice with the Flounder, who is both of the sea and of the river,

Let Sadoc rejoice with the Bleak, who playeth upon the surface in the Sun.

[...] Read more

poem by Christopher Smart
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Witness

I saw an ant devour sherman mountain.
Slip across the floor in the river of honey.
I saw the locust drinking from a fountain.
It smiled at me as I paid my money.
Chorus
Caus Im a witness, witness, see the writing on the wall.
Im a witness, witness, I say Ive seen it all.
Caus Im a witness, witness, Ive got all the proof.
Im a witness, witness, I swear to tell the truth.
I saw her buying in the face of fashion.
Wholl believe with her little white lies.
I saw her arrive on my bed of passion.
But I never saw a look of love in her eyes.
Chorus
Some days my eyes can see for miles and miles around.
Some nights my dreams just take me deep underground.
My minds a time machine, Im in the future and the past.
The past... scrape away...
(violin solo)
Chorus
Chorus
Witness, witness, witness
Witness, witness, witness
Witness, witness, witness
Witness, witness, witness

song performed by Electric Light Orchestra
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Future Watch Burma To Syria Conflicts Rising

been watching
the future today...

from past lens astray

Burma as expected
has developed
ethnic problems

with sudden absence
of strict communist
dictatorship firm leash

Burmese are no longer
all brother communists
controlled by the state

past civic grievances
rise from postmortem
state of frozen stasis

past horrors play
on revenge rabid minds
need exercising?

past spectre struggles
post World War II conflicts
leave skeletons in closets

frozen nightmares divisions
war atrocities split Yugoslavia
post familiar communist thaw

emotively haunted people
seem to need to grim settle
past trauma before each

can move on embrace
future possibilities opportunities
in free market societies

when no longer linked
in brotherhood communist
cast iron citizenships

emotively many people
seem to need to settle
the past before they can

move on

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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They Aint Makin Jews Like Jesus Anymore

(kinky friedman)
Well, a redneck nerd in a bowling shirt was a-guzzlin lone star beer
Talking religion and-uh politics for all the world to hear.
they oughta send you back to russia, boy, or new york city one
You just want to doodle a christian girl and you killed gods only son.
I said, has it occurred to you, you nerd, that thats not very nice,
We jews believe it was santa claus that killed jesus christ.
you know, you dont look jewish, he said, near as I could figger
I had you lamped for a slightly anemic, well-dressed country nigger.
No, they aint makin jews like jesus anymore,
They dont turn the other cheek the way they done before.
He started in to shoutin and a-spittin on the floor,
lord, they aint makin jews like jesus anymore.
He says, i aint a racist but aristitle onassis is one greek we dont need
And them niggers, jews and sigma nus, all they ever do is breed.
And wops n micks n slopes n spics n spooks are on my list
And theres one little hebe from the heart of texas is there anyone I missed ?
Well, I hits him with everything I had right square between the eyes.
I says, Im gonna gitcha, you son of a bitch ya, for spoutin that pack of lies.
If theres one thing I cant abide, its an ethnocentric racist;
Now you take back that thing you said bout aristitle onassis.
No, they aint makin jews like jesus anymore,
We dont turn the other cheek the way we done before.
You could hear that honky holler as he hit that hardwood floor
lord, they sho aint makin jews like jesus anymore!
All right!
No, they aint makin jews like jesus anymore,
We dont turn the other cheek the way they done before.
You hear that honky holler as he hit that hardwood floor
Lord, they aint makin jews like jesus anymore.
Everybody!
They aint makin jews like jesus anymore,
They aint makin carpenters who know what nails are for.
Well, the whole damn place was singin as I strolled right out the door
lord, they aint makin jews like jesus anymore!
No, we aint makin jews like jesus anymore,
We dont turn the other cheek the way they done before.
Well, the whole damn place was singin as I strolled right out the door
lord, they aint makin jews like jesus anymore!

song performed by Kinky Friedman
Added by Lucian Velea
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Christmas-Eve

I.
OUT of the little chapel I burst
Into the fresh night air again.
I had waited a good five minutes first
In the doorway, to escape the rain
That drove in gusts down the common’s centre,
At the edge of which the chapel stands,
Before I plucked up heart to enter:
Heaven knows how many sorts of hands
Reached past me, groping for the latch
Of the inner door that hung on catch,
More obstinate the more they fumbled,
Till, giving way at last with a scold
Of the crazy hinge, in squeezed or tumbled
One sheep more to the rest in fold,
And left me irresolute, standing sentry
In the sheepfold’s lath-and-plaster entry,
Four feet long by two feet wide,
Partitioned off from the vast inside—
I blocked up half of it at least.
No remedy; the rain kept driving:
They eyed me much as some wild beast,
The congregation, still arriving,
Some of them by the mainroad, white
A long way past me into the night,
Skirting the common, then diverging;
Not a few suddenly emerging
From the common’s self thro’ the paling-gaps,—
—They house in the gravel-pits perhaps,
Where the road stops short with its safeguard border
Of lamps, as tired of such disorder;—
But the most turned in yet more abruptly
From a certain squalid knot of alleys,
Where the town’s bad blood once slept corruptly,
Which now the little chapel rallies
And leads into day again,—its priestliness
Lending itself to hide their beastliness
So cleverly (thanks in part to the mason),
And putting so cheery a whitewashed face on
Those neophytes too much in lack of it,
That, where you cross the common as I did,
And meet the party thus presided,
“Mount Zion,” with Love-lane at the back of it,
They front you as little disconcerted,
As, bound for the hills, her fate averted
And her wicked people made to mind him,
Lot might have marched with Gomorrah behind him.

II.
Well, from the road, the lanes or the common,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning
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The Crucifixion of Christ

Composed, by Special Request, 18th June 1890

Then Pilate, the Roman Governor, took Jesus and scourged Him,
And the soldiers platted a crown of thorns, and thought it no sin
To put it on His head, while meekly Jesus stands;
They put on Him a purple robe, and smote Him with their hands.

Then Pilate went forth again, and said unto them,
Behold, I bring Him forth to you, but I cannot Him condemn,
And I would have you to remember I find no fault in Him,
And to treat Him too harshly 'twould be a sin.

But the rabble cried. Hail, King of the Jews, and crucify Him;
But Pilate saith unto them, I find in Him no sin;
Then Jesus came forth, looking dejected and wan,
And Pilate saith unto them, Behold the Man.

Then the Jews cried out, By our laws He ought to die,
Because He made Himself the Son of God the Most High;
And when Pilate heard that saying the Jews had made,
He saw they were dissatisfied, and he was the more afraid.

And to release Jesus Pilate did really intend,
But the Jews cried angrily, Pilate, thou art not Caesar's friend,
Remember, if thou let this vile impostor go,
It only goes to prove thou art Caesar's foe.

When Pilate heard that he felt very irate,
Then he brought Josus forth, and sat down in the judgment-seat,
In a place that is called the Pavement,
While the Blessed Saviour stood calm and content.

The presence of His enemies did not Him appal,
When Pilate asked of Him, before them all,
Whence art Thou, dost say from on High?
But Jesus, the Lamb of God, made no reply.

Then saith Pilate unto Him, Speakest Thou not unto me,
Remember, I have the power to crucify Thee;
But Jesus answered, Thou hast no power at all against me,
Except from above it were given to thee.

Then Pilate to the Jews loudly cried,
Take Him away to be crucified;
Then the soldiers took Jesus and led Him away,
And He, bearing His Cross, without dismay.

And they led Him to a place called Golgotha,
But the Saviour met His fate without any awe,

[...] Read more

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Added by Poetry Lover
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Syrian Christians Minority Psychology

meanwhile in conflict Syria
Wall Street Journal reports
Christians arm themselves?

but few Christians openly sided
with Bashar al-Assad's regime
as ethnic Syrian Alawites did?

most wise Syrian Christians
have stayed completely silent
due to feared post-Assad era?

Syrian Christians fear Muslim
Brotherhood or Salafi policies in
splinter chaotic post al-Assad era?

Christians afraid fear facing same
scenario as invaded Iraqis faced...
in 2003 post US military invasion?

Christians fear their communities
caught in crossfire will be devastated
by power struggle sectarian groups?

Christians in neighboring Iraq
suffered greatly in sectarian wars
during power struggle past decade?

Christians since beginning of uprisings
consistently acted with minority psychology
an attitude of Christian passive neutrality?

in attempt overthrow of Syrian President
Bashar al-Assad Christian exclusion...
from revolution uprisings was because?

the Syrian Church warned Christians
not to participate in revolution uprisings
yet Syrian church leaders fear prospect

of an Islamic fundamentalist
future takeover in Syria represents
a greater danger to Christians?

than continuation of current President
Bashar al-Assad's administration
because during Assad era Christians

faced no real policy secular difficulty
in practicing their religion difficulties...

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Holocaust Latvia Begins

Holocaust Latvia begins
on June 22,1941 when
the German army invaded
the Russian Soviet Union;

and the Baltic States
of Lithuania, Latvia,
and Estonia which had
by Soviet military forces;

recently been occupied
after a proud period
of independence after
World War One finished.

Murders of Jews
Communists began
almost immediately
by Einsatzgruppen;

perpetrated by German
killer squads known
as Special Task Groups
Special Assignment Groups;

the German Security Police
Sicherheitspolizei or Sipo
the Security Service of the SS
the Sicherheitsdienst or SD.

The first recorded murders
were on the day after invasion
on the night of June 23,1941
in town of Grobina near Liepāja;

six Jews were killed
in the church cemetery
by Sonderkommando
1a members deployed;

with the 14th Army
Nazi German
Einsatzkommandos
were a sub-group;

of five Einsatzgruppen
mobile killing squads
up to 3,000 men each
composed of 500 to 1000;

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Can I Get A Witness

(b. holland / l. dozier / e. holland)
Ah, listen everybody
Especially you guys
Is it right to be left alone
When the one you love is never home?
I love too hard
Yeah, my friends sometimes say
But I believe, oh I believe
That a boy should be loved that way
But it hurts me so inside
See him treat me so unkind
A-somebody, a-somewhere
Tell him it aint fair
Can I get a witness?
Can I get a witness?
Can I get a witness?
Somebody?
Is it right to be treated so bad?
When youve given everything you had
Keep on tossing in my sleep
cause I havent seen my baby all week
Now, you people you do agree
That this aint the way loves supposed to be
A-let me hear you
Let me hear you say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Up early in the morning
With him on my mind
Just to find out all night
That Ive been crying
But I believe, oh, that a boy is a girls best friend
So, Im gonna stick by him til the very end
But he caused so much misery
I forget how loves supposed to be
Somebody, somewhere tell him
It aint fair
Can I get a witness?
Can I get a witness?
I want a witness
Witness, witness, witness, witness
Everybody knows, especially you boys
That a love can be sad
But half a love is twice as bad
Now you people you do agree
That this aint the way loves supposed to be
Let me hear you
Let me hear you say yeah, yeah, yeah
I want a witness
Can I get a witness?
I want a witness
Come on, witness

[...] Read more

song performed by Dusty Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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