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The Man Who Raised Charlestown

They were hanging men in Buckland who would not cheer King George –
The parson from his pulpit and the blacksmith from his forge;
They were hanging men and brothers, and the stoutest heart was down,
When a quiet man from Buckland rode at dusk to raise Charlestown.

Not a young man in his glory filled with patriotic fire,
Not an orator or soldier, or a known man in his shire;
He was just the Unexpected – one of Danger's Volunteers,
At a time for which he'd waited, all unheard of, many years.

And Charlestown met in council, the quiet man to hear –
The town was large and wealthy, but the folks were filled with fear,
The fear of death and plunder; and none to lead had they,
And Self fought Patriotism as will always be the way.

The man turned to the people, and he spoke in anger then.
And crooked his finger here and there to those he marked as men.
And many gathered round him to see what they could do –
For men know men in danger, as they know the cowards too.

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poem by Henry Lawson
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Shuffering Shmiling (feat. Jorge Ben Jor, Talib Kweli, Bilal & Postive Force)

[Jorge Ben Jor] (scat singing)
[stic.man]
(to the ancestors)
can't keep quiet
this time gon' be more than a riot (to the warriors)
can't keep quiet
this time gon' be more than a riot (to those who came before us)
can't keep quiet
this time gon' be more than a riot (long lived the revolution)
can't keep quiet
this time gon' be more than a riot
[stic.man]
religion is like prison
keep the people locked up in different divisions
some of them promise you heaven
but I see a whole lot of bullshit ism-scism
imperialism in the form of spirituality
slave mentality, escape reality
what we supposed to just suffer and smile and be content?
sendin our prayers to the clouds? (stic.man - uhn uh)

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song performed by Dead Prez
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Undying One- Canto III

'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?

If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along

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poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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The Tower Beyond Tragedy

I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
burning-flower from Sparta, the beautiful sea-flower
Cut in clear stone, crowned with the fragrant golden mane, she
the ageless, the uncontaminable-
This Clytemnestra was her sister, low-statured, fierce-lipped, not
dark nor blonde, greenish-gray-eyed,
Sinewed with strength, you saw, under the purple folds of the
queen-cloak, but craftier than queenly,
Standing between the gilded wooden porch-pillars, great steps of
stone above the steep street,
Awaiting the King.
Most of his men were quartered on the town;
he, clanking bronze, with fifty
And certain captives, came to the stair. The Queen's men were
a hundred in the street and a hundred
Lining the ramp, eighty on the great flags of the porch; she
raising her white arms the spear-butts
Thundered on the stone, and the shields clashed; eight shining
clarions

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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Untouched by Grace, but not by Snow

Waking up, noticing the ground
To my surprise I am surround by snow
Every detail in which was lay
With perfect precise wonder
In this most daring betray of beauty
And all is quiet

All is so annoyingly quiet
The dirt that is covered peeks through the ground
Destroying what was once beauty
That was pronounced by the glistened snow
And all I can do is wonder
How this world become simple to lay

When sleep takes us on we lay
And all is deeply quiet
Our dreams become our wonder
Weather we stand on solid ground
An undefined map layer out by snow
Creates to us sleeping beauty

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poem by Tyro Twee
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Endymion: Book I

ENDYMION.

A Poetic Romance.

"THE STRETCHED METRE OF AN AN ANTIQUE SONG."
INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS CHATTERTON.

Book I

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,

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poem by John Keats
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To Quiet... To Hold On

Each life needs
It’s own quiet place
Each life needs
To savor joy’s taste
A place where time stops
But for a moment worry is gone
Each life needs to quiet...
To hold on

Floating with the grace
Of the resting fawn
Each life needs to quiet...
To go on

Each life needs
A quiet place where tears can dropp
Where life’s eddies of trouble
Spinning downward
To be changed into joy
Foaming joy, floats to the top

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poem by Duane Botzek
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God, You Punish Me With A Quiet And Love

god, you punish me with a quiet and love
many years i walked into your jungle
what a thorn piercing the foot
i always say love always
although the soil, earth, quiet trees always
you punish me with a quiet and love
there is a silence that hunting
do you love me?
this sort of question a child
that being withdrawn
but why do you punish me with love?
i was not able to recognize the crowd unless
otherwise a quiet way
hummed roar of water but you can not dam
from the hum of small water
high into the mountain
being a rustling in the valley
and the roar unstoppable
are there any you love me?
god, you punish me with a quiet and love

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poem by Imam Setiaji Ronoatmojo
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My Red House

My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse

I once played in that red house
Shy was I, like a little mouse
Tippy toed I went looking around
Giggling, without making any sound
Happy was I to run around and play
My very own home to live and stay

My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse

Darkness came swiftly one night
A sense of something was not quite right
The shadows came across the wall
Covering my eyes, ready for my fall
The sounds of whips and chains dragged
against the floor
The sheer terror numbed me from looking

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poem by Miu Miu Ayushi
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Feast No Longer On Heartbreak Or Loss

I sit on the waters edge trying to catch a cool breeze,
While the hot sun pours down on my heart,
Thoughts and experiences from the past come and go,
The waters edge place to reflect,
While the hot sun pours down on my heart,

Reflecting, dreaming, as the water trickles past my toes,
A cool breeze flows over my heart, telling me,
Feast no longer on heartbreak and loss,
Thoughts and experiences from the past come and go,
With each breath I take, I try too escape
While the hot sun ours down on my heart,

Determined to feast no longer on heartbreak and loss,
The quiet moments at the waters edge,
Reflecting, dreaming, as the water trickles past my toes,
Life I held so dear, is past now,
Sour taste is my heart is gone,

Quiet moments now at the waters edge,

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poem by Batibchar Mocculta
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