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Repeat performance?

The peoples will deposed the Shah.
A lesson presidents should note.
Repression only goes so far.
If they suspect you rigged the vote.

They’ll bring you down eventually.
They have decided to protest.
Although you’re trying desperately.
You cannot quell the mass unrest

The people will not tolerate
such obvious dishonesty
and are prepared to demonstrate
their discontent but peacefully

If you persist in using force
to shore up your authority.
You leave them with no other course
but to react as violently.

So by the grace of Allah leave
before you foment civil war.
The people now do not believe
the words you utter any more.

17/06/2009
http; // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Death of Yazdagird

From the Shahnameh
There was a paladin, a Turk by race,
A man of influence and named Bizhan;
He dwelt within the coasts of Samarkand
Where he had many kin. Ill-starred Mahwi,
Becoming self-assertive, wrote to him:-
'Thou prosperous scion of the paladins!
A strife hath risen that will bring thee profit:
The Sháh is of all places here at Marv
And with no troops! His head and crown and state,
Wealth, throne, and host, are thine if thou wilt come.
Recall the vengeance owing to thy sires,
And give this unjust race its just reward.'

Bizhan, considering the letter, saw
That insolent Mahwi would win the world,
Then spake thus to his minister: 'Thou chief
Of upright men! what sayest thou to this?
If I lead forth a host to aid Mahwi
'Twill be my ruin here.'

The minister
Replied: 'O lion-hearted warrior!
'Twere shame to help Mahwi and then withdraw.
Command Barsám to set forth with a host
To aid upon this scene of strife. The sage
Will term thee daft to go and fight in person
At the insistence of this man of Súr.'

Bizhan replied: ''Tis well, I will not go
Myself.'

He therefore bade Barsám to lead
Ten thousand valiant cavaliers and swordsmen
To Marv with all the implements of war
If haply he might take the Sháh. That host
Went like a flying pheasant from Bukhárá
To Marv within one week. One night at cock-crow
The sound of tymbals went up from the plain.
How could the king of kings suspect Mahwi
Of Súr to be his enemy? Shouts rose.
A cavalier reached Yazdagird at dawn
To say: 'Mahwi said thus: 'A host of Turks
Hath come. What is the bidding of the Sháh?
The Khán and the Faghfúr of Chin command:
Earth is not able to support their host!''

The Sháh wroth donned his mail. The armies ranged.
He formed his troops to right and left, and all
Advanced to battle. Spear in hand he held

[...] Read more

poem by Hakim Abu'l-Qasim Ferdowsi Tusi Firdowsi
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
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Peacefully Delight In Peace

Peacefully delight in peace

Peace be peacefully in peace,
Peacefully to peaceful
Peace seekers on peaceful
Peace missions, who in peaceful peace,
Peacefully ended up peace in peace
Peacefully,

Peacefully, peaceful Peace peacefully in peace is like a peacefully peaceful
Peace piece pinned at a peaceful
Peacefully pitch in Peace, Peered in Peace
Peacefully by every peacefully
Peaceful eye in the name of peace,
Peaceful Peace peacefully in peace peaceful is passed peacefully in Peace, peaceful from peacefully
Peaceful peace believers in peace peacefully to peaceful peace
Peaceful peace seekers,

Peacefully
Peace in peace be peacefully to peaceful
Peace believers of peace who in Peace peacefully peaceful delight in peaceful
Peace.
Peacefully in peaceful peace peacefully delight in peaceful peace peacefully for peace in peace.

poem by Iyamuremye Wilfred
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BlackOp

BlackOp
by Ted L Glines

Wet activity with no explanations
is the stock-in-trade of black operations.
Romeo and Juliet walking in the park,
just a tourist couple out for a lark,
there - on a bench - sits Papa - the boss,
this is one wet mission where we'll suffer no loss.
Romeo and Juliet - the best in fact
will never win an Oscar for their act,
always moving like a shadow in a dream,
simply known as the 'Alpha Team.'
'Charlie saw the Zulu, ' message on the phone,
meaning 'Charlie' would die - toppled from his throne.
Keshandra Shah had refused to parley
so now he was given the code name 'Charlie.'
Papa gets up and walks away,
his paper left laying on display,
two 'beta' capsules taped inside,
deadly stuff and easy to hide.
Last November - Delta Force learned,
Peruvian money Shah had earned,
cartels in Lima - cash for drugs
brought by the Afghan Jihad thugs.
Xray records showed 'Charlie' had cancer,
one little fact in a larger answer.
In the High Sierra - our Pres was saddened,
a meeting between Shah and bin Laden.
Our DOD has a uniform code,
not in sync with plans Shah sowed.
From Quebec to India - politics is mean,
the victor always - the power of green.
Dirty deals - playing golf or in a bar,
staying clean - pulling strings from afar,
Shah cared not - a kilo or a life,
he didn't care if he caused world strife.
Our Shah had a weakness for his whiskey,
made his pain go away - made him frisky,
Yankee-Vats 1962,
way too expensive for the likes of you.
At the hotel tonight Shah would be dancing,
old time music for the gal he was romancing,
tango moving and foxtrot too,
and the night could end with a death or two.
Romeo and Juliet - dancing 'cross the floor,
close to the tables - close to the door,
and there sits Shah and his girlfriend too
with two full drinks and his Vat-62,
singer on the mike - band playing loud,

[...] Read more

poem by Ted L Glines
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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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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)

Introduction

In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.

Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.

Prologue

The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain

mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact

that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals

becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,

who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight

in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.

Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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It Ain't Obvious

I keep trying
but I'm running out of ways to make you want me baby
I cannot be everything you want you drive me crazy
you're never satisfied
its not even worth a try times are for making up your mind
maybe we'll never see eye to eye

so treat me cruel to be kind
lets play it straight down the line
I'm sure you wanna be mine
but it ain't obvious

why cant you just let it be
what would you have me believe
I'm sure you really want me
but it ain't obvious

why don't you put a little trust in me
and let it go
if you don't take a chance
how will you ever know
baby im on your side

have I been foolish all along
have you been leading me on
just to walk away
if this is where you belong

so treat me cruel to be kind
lets play it straight down the line
I'm sure you wanna be mine
but it ain't obvious

why cant you just let it be
what would you have me believe
I'm sure you really want me
but it ain't obvious

but it ain't obvious
but it ain't obvious
but it ain't obvious
but it ain't obvious

come on wont you be with me
what would you have me believe
come on wont you be with me
oh no no

if its not even worth a try times are for making up your mind
maybe we'll never see eye to eye

[...] Read more

song performed by Gareth Gates from What My Heart Wants To Say
Added by Lucian Velea
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How Shirwi ascended the Throne

From the Shahnameh
Now when Shirwi sat on the goodly throne,
And donned the royal crown so much desired,
The leaders of the Iranians each drew near
To proffer him the homage due to kings,
Exclaiming: 'Worshipful and honoured Sháh!
Know, God gave thee the crown, and now thou sittest
Securely on the throne of ivory,
And may thy sons and scions have the world.'

Kubád replied: 'Be ever conquering
And happy. Never will we practice ill.
How good is justice with benevolence!
The world will we keep peaceful and cut off
The works of Ahriman by every right,
Ancestral precedent that greateneth
The Glory of our Faith. I will dispatch
A message to my sire and tell him all.
He is in evil odour in the world
Through his ill deeds: let him excuse his faults
To God and turn to custom and the way.
If he shall heed me he will not resent
My conduct. Then will I devote myself
To state affairs and strive to compass justice
Both publicly and privily, do good
Where good is due, and break no poor man's heart.
I need two honest men of goodly speech,
Whose memories are charged with ancient lore.'

He asked the assembly: 'Whom shall I employ?
Who is most shrewd and honest in Iran?'

The warriors suggested by their looks
Two men of lore if they should give consent.
Kubád perceived whom the Iránians
Agreed to choose: one of them was Ashtád,
The other was Kharrád, son of Barzin,
The old-two sages eloquent and heedful.
Kubád addressed them thus: 'O ye wise men,
Ye chiefs experienced and veteran!
Deem not the conduct of the world too toilsome,
Because the Great by travail compass treasure.
It is for you now to approach the Sháh;
Perchance through you he may conform himself.
Appeal to him by instance new or old
As there is need.'

With tears unwilling
Those sages made them ready. When Kharrád,
Son of Barzin, and when Ashtád, who had

[...] Read more

poem by Hakim Abu'l-Qasim Ferdowsi Tusi Firdowsi
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How the Chiefs demanded from Shirwi the Death of Khusrau Parwiz

From the Shahnameh
Shirwi, a timid, inexperienced youth,
Found that the throne beneath him was a snare,
While readers of mankind saw that 'twas time
For men of might. those that had done the ill,
And had produced that coil, went from the hall
Of audience to the presence of Kubád
To mind him of their infamous designs:-
'We said before and now we say again
Thy thoughts are not on government alone.
There are two Sháhs now seated in one room,
One on the throne and one on its degree,
And when relations grow 'twixt sire and son
They will behead the servants one and all.
It may not be, so speak of it no more.'

Shirwi was frightened and he played poltroon
Because in their hands he was as a slave.
He answered: 'None will bring him to the toils
Except a man whose name is infamous.
Ye must go homeward and advise thereon.
Inquire: 'What man is there that will abate
Our troubles secretly?''

The Sháh's ill-wishers
Sought for a murderer to murder him
By stealth, but none possessed the pluck or courage
To shed the blood of such a king and hang
A mountain round his own neck. Everywhere
The Sháh's foes sought until they met with one
Blue-eyed, pale-cheeked, his body parched and hairy,
With lips of lapis-lazuli, with feet
All dust, and belly ravenous; the head
Of that ill-doer was bare. None knew his name
Midst high and low. This villain (may he never
See jocund Paradise!) sought Farrukhzád,
And undertook the deed. 'This strife is mine,'
He said. 'If ye will make it worth my while
This is my quarry.'

'Go and do it then
If thou art able,' Farrukhzád replied.
'Moreover open not thy lips herein.
I have a purse full of dinárs for thee,
And I will look upon thee as my son.'

He gave the man a dagger keen and bright,
And then the murderer set forth in haste.
The miscreant, when he approached the Sháh,
Saw him upon the throne, a slave attending.

[...] Read more

poem by Hakim Abu'l-Qasim Ferdowsi Tusi Firdowsi
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Pharsalia - Book VII: The Battle

Ne'er to the summons of the Eternal laws
More slowly Titan rose, nor drave his steeds,
Forced by the sky revolving, up the heaven,
With gloomier presage; wishing to endure
The pangs of ravished light, and dark eclipse;
And drew the mists up, not to feed his flames,
But lest his light upon Thessalian earth
Might fall undimmed.

Pompeius on that morn,
To him the latest day of happy life,
In troubled sleep an empty dream conceived.
For in the watches of the night he heard
Innumerable Romans shout his name
Within his theatre; the benches vied
To raise his fame and place him with the gods;
As once in youth, when victory was won
O'er conquered tribes where swift Iberus flows,
And where Sertorius' armies fought and fled,
The west subdued, with no less majesty
Than if the purple toga graced the car,
He sat triumphant in his pure white gown
A Roman knight, and heard the Senate's cheer.
Perhaps, as ills drew near, his anxious soul,
Shunning the future wooed the happy past;
Or, as is wont, prophetic slumber showed
That which was not to be, by doubtful forms
Misleading; or as envious Fate forbade
Return to Italy, this glimpse of Rome
Kind Fortune gave. Break not his latest sleep,
Ye sentinels; let not the trumpet call
Strike on his ear: for on the morrow's night
Shapes of the battle lost, of death and war
Shall crowd his rest with terrors. Whence shalt thou
The poor man's happiness of sleep regain?
Happy if even in dreams thy Rome could see
Once more her captain! Would the gods had given
To thee and to thy country one day yet
To reap the latest fruit of such a love:
Though sure of fate to come! Thou marchest on
As though by heaven ordained in Rome to die;
She, conscious ever of her prayers for thee
Heard by the gods, deemed not the fates decreed
Such evil destiny, that she should lose
The last sad solace of her Magnus' tomb.
Then young and old had blent their tears for thee,
And child unbidden; women torn their hair
And struck their bosoms as for Brutus dead.
But now no public woe shall greet thy death
As erst thy praise was heard: but men shall grieve

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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The Ballad of Ahmed Shah

This is the ballad of Ahmed Shah
Dealer in tats in the Sudder Bazar,
By the gate that leads to the Gold Minar
How he was done by a youth from Morar.

Ahmed Shah was a man of peace -
His beard and turban were thick with grease:
His paunch was huge and his speech was slow
And he swindled the subalterns high and low,
Scores of subalterns came to try
The tats that he sold - and remained to buy,
Scores of subalterns later on
Found that their flashiest mounts were 'gone' -
Some in the front and some behind
Some were roarers and some went blind -
Scores of subalterns over their 'weeds'
Cursed old Ahmed and all his deeds.
But Ahmed Shah in his gully sat still -
And ever he fashioned a Little Black Pill!

Yet a judgement was brewing for Ahmed Shah,
Like a witches cauldron, in far Morar
And the youth that brewed it has eyes of blue
And his cheek was beardless and boundless too.
Softly he mused o'er a trichi thick:-
'By the Beard of the Prophet I've got the trick!'
Then he rose from his chair with an artless grin
And called the Battery Sergeant in:-
'Sergeant' he said 'Hasst aught for me
In the way of a 'caster' with lots of gee ?'
The sergeant pondered and answered slow
'There's a red-roan gelding that's bound to go
At the next Committee. 'E ain't no use
Excep' for kickin' recruits to the deuce,
'E's chained in the sick lines.'
The subaltern's brow
Was puckered with thought for a moment. Then
The sergeant was richer by rupees ten.
'When the next Committee sits' quoth he
'O Sergeant buy up that brute for me.'

So the plot was laid and the long weeks passed
And the red-road gelding was duly cast.
They led him in chains to the subaltern's stall
And gave him his gram' through a hole in the wall.
The subaltern mixed it. When morning came
The red-road gelding was strangely tame.
He bit not nor kicked nor essayed to slay
And he and the sub went north that day
Till they came to the gully of Ahmed Shah

[...] Read more

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Night Bring Me My Lover

Night bring me my lover, night
Bring me my lover, night
The night has brought me you, ooooh
Night bring me my lover, night
Bring me my lover, night
The night has brought me you, ooh
Night, bring me my lover
Baby, night is sweet?
To each other thats the way we meet
I went all day for night to come
When I ? so easy
Do you want my lover, baby
Exchanging smiles and glances,
Just by to take my chances
Night bring me my lover, night
Bring me my lover, night
The night has brought me you, ooooh
Night bring me my lover, night
Bring me my lover, night
The night has brought me you, ooh
Night, bring me my lover
Youre the living cruel
To satisfy each other, thats the loving truth
One day is all I want belong to ? baby
Thats the way I found you, lover?
Each other
Nights brought us one another
Night bring me my lover, night
Bring me my lover, night
The night has brought me you, ooooh
Night bring me my lover, night
Bring me my lover, night
The night has brought me you, ooh
(Im so high) Im in love tonight
(so high) I think our love is so right
(so high) ? tomorrow-morrow
Night (bring me my lover)
Bring me my lover,
Night
(bring me my lover)
Bring me my lover, night
The night has brought me you, ooooh
Night (bring me my lover)
Bring me my lover, night
(bring me my lover)
Bring me my lover, night
The night has brought me you, ooh
Night (bring me my lover)
Bring me my lover, night
(bring me my lover)

[...] Read more

song performed by Gloria Estefan
Added by Lucian Velea
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How Bárbad lamented Khusrau Parwiz

Now list the lamentation of Bárbod,
And grow forgetful of the world at large.
On hearing that the Sháh, not by advice
And 'gainst his will, no longer filled the throne,
That 'men are seeking how to murder him;
The soldiers are renouncing fealty,'
Bárbad came from Chahram to Taisafún
With tearful eyes and heart o'ercharged; he came
To that abode and saw the Sháh whereat
His tulip-cheeks became like fenugreek.
He bode awhile in presence of the Sháh,
Then went with wailing to the audience-hall.
His love flamed in his heart, his heart and soul
Burned in his anguish for Khusrau Parwiz;
His eyes rained like a cloud in Spring and made
His bosom as the margent of the sea.
He fashioned him a dirge upon the harp,
And to that dirge he sang a mournful plaint.
With visage wan and heart fulfilled with grief
He thus lamented in the olden tongue:-

'O Sháh! O noble chieftan! O Khusrau!
O great! O strong! O hero ne'er cast down!
Where are thy mastery and greatness now,
Where all thy Grace, thy fortune, and thy crown?

'Where that imperial circlet, towering height?
Where are thine armlets and thine ivory throne?
Where all thy manliness, thy Grace, and might,
Who 'neath thy wings hadst this world for thine own?

'Oh! whither are thy dames and minstrels gone,
Gate, audience-hall, and leaders of thy day,
The diadem and Káwa's gonfalon,
And all the blue-steel falchions, where are they?

'Where are the head, the crown that loved it well-
Mate of the earrings and the throne of gold?
Where are Shabdiz, his stirrups and his sell-
The steed that 'neath thee ever caracol'd?

'Where are thy helmet, head, and habergeon
All golden and compacted gem to gem,
Thy cavaliers in gold caparison,
Whose swords made enemies the sheaths for them?

'Where all the camels for thy progresses,
The golden litters and attendance rife.
Led steeds, white elephants, and dromedaries?
Have one and all grown hopeless of life?

[...] Read more

poem by Hakim Abu'l-Qasim Ferdowsi Tusi Firdowsi
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Canto the Fourth

I.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter’s wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying glory smiles
O’er the far times when many a subject land
Looked to the wingèd Lion’s marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!

II.

She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she robed, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.

III.

In Venice, Tasso’s echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone - but beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade - but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!

IV.

But unto us she hath a spell beyond
Her name in story, and her long array
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond
Above the dogeless city’s vanished sway;
Ours is a trophy which will not decay
With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor,
And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away -
The keystones of the arch! though all were o’er,
For us repeopled were the solitary shore.

V.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Vote For Me

Vote for me, vote for me
I want the nomination for the presidency
Vote for me, vote for me
If I am elected, this is how it will be
Ill cut your tax in half
Ill make the russians laugh
Ill feed the hungry people everywhere
Ill bring the railroads back
New trains and new track
From waikiki to old deleware
Vote for me, vote for me
I want the nomination for the presidency
Vote for me, vote for me
If I am elected, this is how it will be
Ill give detroit one year
New cars that run on beer
Or anything except gasoline
Im looking to the sun
More power for everyone
And the cleanest sky that youve ever seen
Im not going to kid you, theres a lot to do
Little can I promise, its really up to you
But if we all work together
And I think we can
And if you want some new ideas
Then Im your man
Vote for me, vote for me
I want the nomination for the presidency
Vote for me, vote for me
If I am elected, this is how it will be
Ill work for global peace
And the sweet release
Of the love and human kindness in us all
I would give all Ive got
You just give me a shot
Somehow, I know that I can win the fall

song performed by Chicago
Added by Lucian Velea
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Three Women

My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.

Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day.

Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love.

Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where love, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest.

Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.

1
I.
A dull little station, a man with the eye
Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by;
A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun,
The curtain goes up, and our play is begun.
The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife,
Which always is billed for the theatre Life.
It runs on forever, from year unto year,
With scarcely a change when new actors appear.
It is old as the world is-far older in truth,
For the world is a crude little planet of youth.
And back in the eras before it was formed,
The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.

Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls
Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls
In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain
Was wholly intent on the incoming train.
That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath,
Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death,

[...] Read more

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Death Of The Middle Class

Oligarchs and Banksters tighten financial screws
In a bold attempt to kill the global Middle Class
Heads of State unable/unwilling to halt this ruse
The “Great Depression of 1929” we soon surpass

ROTMS

By Andrew Gavin Marshall - Global Research

We now stand at the edge of the global financial abyss of a ‘Great Global Debt Depression, ’ where nations, mired in extreme debt, are beginning to implement ‘fiscal austerity’ measures to reduce their deficits, which will ultimately result in systematic global social genocide, as the middle classes vanish and the social foundations upon which our nations rest are swept away. How did we get here? Who brought us here? Where is this road leading? These are questions I will briefly attempt to answer.

At the heart of the global political economy is the central banking system. Central banks are responsible for printing a nation’s currency and setting interest rates, thus determining the value of the currency. This should no doubt be the prerogative of a national government, however, central banks are of a particularly deceptive nature, in which while being imbued with governmental authority, they are in fact privately owned by the world’s major global banks, and are thus profit-seeking institutions. How do central banks make a profit? The answer is simple: how do all banks make a profit? Interest on debt. Loans are made, interest rates are set, and profits are made. It is a system of debt, imperial economics at its finest.

In the United States, President Woodrow Wilson signed the Federal Reserve Act in 1913, creating the Federal Reserve System, with the Board located in Washington, appointed by the President, but where true power rested in the 12 regional banks, most notably among them, the Federal Reserve Bank of New York. The regional Fed banks were private banks, owned in shares by the major banks in each region, which elected the board members to represent them, and who would then share power with the Federal Reserve Board in Washington.

In the early 1920s, the Council on Foreign Relations was formed in the United States as the premier foreign policy think tank, dominated by powerful banking interests. In 1930, the Bank for International Settlements (BIS) was created to manage German reparations payments, but it also had another role, which was much less known, but much more significant. It was to act as a “coordinator of the operations of central banks around the world.” Essentially, it is the central bank for the world’s central banks, whose operations are kept ‘strictly confidential.’ As historian Carroll Quigley wrote:

'The powers of financial capitalism had another far-reaching aim, nothing less than to create a world system of financial control in private hands able to dominate the political system of each country and the economy of the world as a whole. This system was to be controlled in a feudalist fashion by the central banks of the world acting in concert, by secret agreements arrived at in frequent private meetings and conferences. The apex of the system was to be the Bank for International Settlements in Basel, Switzerland, a private bank owned and controlled by the world’s central banks which were themselves private corporations.'

In 1954, the Bilderberg Group was formed as a secretive global think tank, comprising intellectual, financial, corporate, political, military and media elites from Western Europe and North America, with prominent bankers such as David Rockefeller, as well as European royalty, such as the Dutch royal family, who are the largest shareholders in Royal Dutch Shell, whose CEO attends every meeting. This group of roughly 130 elites meets every year in secret to discuss and debate global affairs, and to set general goals and undertake broad agendas at various meetings. The group was initially formed to promote European integration. The 1956 meeting discussed European integration and a common currency. In fact, the current Chairman of the Bilderberg Group told European media last year that the euro was debated at the Bilderberg Group.

In 1973, David Rockefeller, Chairman and CEO of Chase Manhattan Bank, Chairman of the Council on Foreign Relations and a member of the Steering Committee of the Blderberg Group, formed the Trilateral Commission with CFR academic Zbigniew Brzezinski. That same year, the oil price shocks created a wealth of oil money, which was discussed at that years Bilderberg meeting 5 months prior to the oil shocks, and the money was funneled through western banks, which loaned it to ‘third world’ nations desperately in need of loans to finance industrialization.

When Jimmy Carter became President in 1977, he appointed over two dozen members of the Trilateral Commission into his cabinet, including himself, and of course, Zbigniew Brzezinski, who was his National Security Adviser. In 1979, Carter appointed David Rockefeller’s former aide and friend, Paul Volcker, who had held various positions at the Federal Reserve Bank of New York and the U.S. Treasury Department, and who also happened to be a member of the Trilateral Commission, as Chairman of the Federal Reserve. When another oil shock took place in 1979, Volcker decided to raise interest rates from 2% in the late 70s, to 18% in the early 80s. The effect this had was that the countries of the developing world suddenly had to pay enormous interest on their loans, and in 1982, Mexico announced it could no longer afford to pay its interest, and it defaulted on its debt, which set off the 1980s debt crisis – collapsing nations in debt across Latin America, Africa and parts of Asia.

It was the IMF and the World Bank came to the ‘assistance’ of the Third World with their ‘structural adjustment programs’, which forced countries seeking assistance to privatize all state owned industries and resources, devalue their currencies, liberalize their economies, dismantle health, education and social services; ultimately resulting in the re-colonization of the ‘Third World’ as Western corporations and banks bought all their assets and resources, and ultimately created the conditions of social genocide, with the spread of mass poverty, and the emergence of corrupt national elites who were subservient to the interests of Western elites. The people in these nations would protest, riot and rebel, and the states would clamp down with the police and military.

In the West, corporations and banks saw rapid, record-breaking profits. This was the era in which the term ‘globalization’ emerged. While profits soared, wages for people in the West did not. Thus, to consume in an economy in which prices were rising, people had to go into debt. This is why this era marked the rise of credit cards fueling consumption, and the middle class became a class based entirely on debt.

In the 1990s, the ‘new world order’ was born, with America ruling the global economy, free trade agreements began integrating regional and global markets for the benefit of global banks and corporations, and speculation dominated the economy.

The global economic crisis arose as a result of decades of global imperialism – known recently as ‘globalization’ – and the reckless growth of– speculation, derivatives and an explosion of debt. As the economic crisis spread, nations of the world, particularly the United States, bailed out the major banks (which should have been made to fail and crumble under their own corruption and greed) , and now the West has essentially privatized profits for the banks, and socialized the risk. In other words, the nations bought the debt from the banks, and now the people have to pay for it. The people, however, are immersed in their own personal debt to such degrees that today, the average Canadian is $39,000 in debt, and students are graduating into a jobless market with tens to hundreds of thousands of dollars of student debt that they will never repay. Hence, we are now faced with a global debt crisis.

To manage the economic crisis, the G20 was established as the major international forum for cooperation among the 20 major economies of the world, including the major developing – or emerging – economies, such as India, Brazil, South Africa and China. At the onset of the financial crisis, China and Russia’s central banks began calling for the establishment of a global currency to replace the U.S. dollar as the world reserve currency. This proposal was backed by the UN and the IMF. It should be noted, however, that the Chinese and Russian central banks cooperate with the Western central banks through the Bank for International Settlements – which the President of the European Central Bank, Jean-Claude Trichet, recently said was the principle forum for “governance of central bank cooperation” and that the G20 is “the prime group for global economic governance.” In 2009, the IMF stated that the BIS “is the central and the oldest focal point for coordination of global governance arrangements.” The President of the European Union, appointed to the position after attending a Bilderberg meeting, declared 2009 as the “first year of global governance.” The 2009 Bilderberg meeting reported on the desire to create a global treasury, or global central bank, to manage the world economy. In 2009, prior to the Bilderberg meeting in fact, the G20 set in motion plans to make the IMF a global central bank of sorts, issuing and even printing its own currency – called Special Drawing Rights (SDRs) – which is valued against a basket of currencies. In May of 2010, the IMF Managing Director stated that “crisis is an opportunity, ” and while Special Drawing Rights are a step in the right direction, ultimately what is needed is “a new global currency issued by a global central bank, with robust governance and institutional features.” Thus, we see the emergence of a process towards the formation of a global central bank and a global currency, totally unaccountable to any nation or people, and totally controlled by global banking interests.

In 2010, Greece was plunged into a debt crisis, a crisis which is now spreading across Europe, to the U.K. and eventually to Japan and the United States. If we look at Greece, we see the nature of the global debt crisis. The debt is owed to major European and American banks. To pay the interest on the debt, Greece had to get a loan from the European Central Bank and the IMF, which forced the country to impose ‘fiscal austerity’ measures as a condition for the loans, pressuring Greece to commit social genocide. Meanwhile, the major banks of America and Europe speculate against the Greek debt, further plunging the country into economic and social crisis. The loan is granted, to pay the interest, yet simply has the effect of adding to the overall debt, as a new loan is new debt. Thus, Greece is caught in the same debt trap that re-colonized the Third World.

At the recent G20 meeting in Toronto, the major nations of the world agreed to impose fiscal austerity – or in other words, commit social genocide – within their nations, in a veritable global structural adjustment program. So now we will see the beginnings of the Great Global Debt Depression, in which major western and global nations cut social spending, create mass unemployment by dismantling health, education, and social services. Further, state infrastructure – such as roads, bridges, airports, ports, railways, prisons, hospitals, electric transmission lines and water – will be privatized, so that global corporations and banks will own the entirely of national assets. Simultaneously, of course, taxes will be raised dramatically to levels never before seen. The BIS said that interest rates should rise at the same time, meaning that interest payments on debt will dramatically increase at both the national and individual level, forcing governments to turn to the IMF for loans – likely in the form of its new global reserve currency – to simply pay the interest, and will thus be absorbing more debt. Simultaneously, of course, the middle class will in effect have its debts called in, and since the middle class exists only as an illusion, the illusion will vanish.

Already, towns, cities, and states across America are resorting to drastic actions to reduce their debts, such as closing fire stations, scaling back trash collection, turning off street lights, ending bus services and public transportation, cutting back on library hours or closing them altogether, school districts cutting down the school day, week or year. Simultaneously, this is occurring with a dramatic increase in the rate of privatizations or “public-private partnerships” in which even libraries are being privatized.

No wonder then, that this month, the Managing Director of the IMF warned that America and Europe, in the midst of the worst jobs crisis since the Great Depression, face an “explosion of social unrest.” Just yesterday, Europe experienced a wave of mass protests and social unrest in opposition to ‘austerity measures’, with a general strike in Spain involving millions of people, and a march on the EU headquarters in Brussels of nearly 100,000 people. As social unrest spreads, governments will likely react – as we saw in the case of the G20 in Toronto – with oppressive police state measures. Here, we see the true relevance of the emergence of ‘Homeland Security States’, designed not to protect people from terrorists, but to protect the powerful from the people.

So while things have never seemed quite so bleak, there is a dim and growing beacon of hope, in what Zbigniew Brzezinski has termed as the greatest threat to elite interests everywhere – the ‘global political awakening’. The global political awakening is representative of the fact that for the first time in all of human history, mankind is politically awakened and stirring, activated and aware, and that generally – as Zbigniew Brzezinski explains – generally is aware of global inequalities, exploitation, and disrespect. This awakening is largely the result of the information revolution – thus revealing the contradictory nature of the globalization project – as while it globalizes power and oppression, so too does it globalize awareness and opposition. This awakening is the greatest threat to entrenched elite interests everywhere. The awakening, while having taken root in the global south – already long subjected to exploitation and devastation – is now stirring in the west, and will grow as the economy crumbles. As the middle classes realize their consumption was an illusion of wealth, they will seek answers and demand true change, not the Wall Street packaged ‘brand-name’ change of Obama Inc., but true, inspired, and empowering change.

In 1967, Martin Luther King delivered a speech in which he spoke out against the Vietnam War and the American empire, and he stated that, “It seems as if we are on the wrong side of a world revolution.” So now it seems to me that the time has come for that to change.

Andrew Gavin Marshall is a Research Associate with the Centre for Research on Globalization (CRG) .

poem by Ray Lucero
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Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato

Yet in those ashes on the Pharian shore,
In that small heap of dust, was not confined
So great a shade; but from the limbs half burnt
And narrow cell sprang forth and sought the sky
Where dwells the Thunderer. Black the space of air
Upreaching to the poles that bear on high
The constellations in their nightly round;
There 'twixt the orbit of the moon and earth
Abide those lofty spirits, half divine,
Who by their blameless lives and fire of soul
Are fit to tolerate the pure expanse
That bounds the lower ether: there shall dwell,
Where nor the monument encased in gold,
Nor richest incense, shall suffice to bring
The buried dead, in union with the spheres,
Pompeius' spirit. When with heavenly light
His soul was filled, first on the wandering stars
And fixed orbs he bent his wondering gaze;
Then saw what darkness veils our earthly day
And scorned the insults heaped upon his corse.
Next o'er Emathian plains he winged his flight,
And ruthless Caesar's standards, and the fleet
Tossed on the deep: in Brutus' blameless breast
Tarried awhile, and roused his angered soul
To reap the vengeance; last possessed the mind
Of haughty Cato.

He while yet the scales
Were poised and balanced, nor the war had given
The world its master, hating both the chiefs,
Had followed Magnus for the Senate's cause
And for his country: since Pharsalia's field
Ran red with carnage, now was all his heart
Bound to Pompeius. Rome in him received
Her guardian; a people's trembling limbs
He cherished with new hope and weapons gave
Back to the craven hands that cast them forth.
Nor yet for empire did he wage the war
Nor fearing slavery: nor in arms achieved
Aught for himself: freedom, since Magnus fell,
The aim of all his host. And lest the foe
In rapid course triumphant should collect
His scattered bands, he sought Corcyra's gulfs
Concealed, and thence in ships unnumbered bore
The fragments of the ruin wrought in Thrace.
Who in such mighty armament had thought
A routed army sailed upon the main
Thronging the sea with keels? Round Malea's cape
And Taenarus open to the shades below
And fair Cythera's isle, th' advancing fleet

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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I Suspect

I suspect...
You are the only one who knows,
What you are doing.
And I suspect,
You also choose the way you feel,
When this you do.
Whether that color is bright,
Sunny and yellow mellow.
Or royal blue to appear as you do,
In the dumps with clouds gray...
That appear to be near you to subdue.

I suspect...
Any cheerfulness you get,
Comes from your chasing of rainbows.
After your eyes have dropped rain...
From many tears you've wept.
With no bucket of gold,
At the end of those chased rainbows.

I suspect...
The happiness I have chosen,
Makes you upset.
Because I wont let you,
Lead my parade...
With a showering done,
Of a negligence you wish to pour on me.
And this I will not accept,
To be in a darkened blackness on bended knees.
Not me!
You wont find me trying to please your disrespect.

I'm on the go and I am green.
Keeping my mind opened,
To experience refreshing beneficial scenes.
Romancing an agony?
You will not find yourself doing that here with me.

I suspect...
There is a controlling of me you wish to do.
In a closeness together...
I will not allow us to get.
Or you attempt to pursue.

And I suspect you have a selfishness.
Since only those things you wish to do...
Disregards what my wishes are with much disrespect.
Yes.
I've noticed that about you too.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Hearts Filthy Lesson

Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Theres always the diamond friendly
Sitting in the laugh hotel
The hearts filthy lesson
With her hundred miles to hell
Oh, ramona, if there was only something between us
If there was only something between us
Other than our clothes
Something in our skies
Something in our skies
Something in our blood
Something in our skies
Paddy
Paddy, whos been wearing mirandas clothes?
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Falls upon deaf ears
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Falls upon deaf ears
Falls upon dead years
Oh ramona, if there was only some kind of future
Oh ramona, if there was only some kind of future
And these cerulean skies
Something in our skies
Something in our skies
Something in our blood
Something in our skies
Paddy, paddy?
Paddy will you carry me, I think Ive lost my way
Im already five years older Im already in my grave
Im already
Im already
Im already
Will you carry me?
Oh paddy, I think Ive lost my way
Paddy
What a fantastic death abyss
Paddy
What a fantastic death abyss
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Tell the others
Its the hearts filthy lesson
What a fantastic death abyss
Tell the others
Its the hearts filthy lesson

[...] Read more

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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