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The Stained RoseThe field was silent now, the men had fought, bled and died. Even the Ravens and Crows had their fill and left the remains of the unfortunate to decay in the mood. The sun looked on impassive, bringing false warmth to the dead. In its gaze the dulled and broken tools of the dead’s former trade shined just a little, giving such vile instruments a tiny measure of beauty. A shame there was no one around to appreciate it.
A slight breeze picked up, and stirred some of the wreckage littered about the field, the flapping of torn banners breaking the silence of the scene. The banners, those tattered and trampled rags still declared the identity and Heraldry of their deceased owners. In the centre amongst the carcasses of horses and their riders flapped a red and blue banner with a still recognisable Stallion rearing up in gold embroidery, now marking the open grave of its master a nobleman. To the east with its shaft buried deep in the mud and poked full of holes was a simpl
We Must Travel FarWell that’s that then,
Time to escape our pen
Earth’s become a literal hell
So charge up the FTL
So long old Terra
Forgive us our error
Farewell red Mars
We’re going to the stars
Too late we found a solution
To that nasty pollution
Hopefully we’ll do much better
In the role of galactic settler
But if we get too bold
And New Eden goes the way of the old
And again we cause ecological harm
Then you know what they say, “Third times the charm”
Viva the Social (Media) Revolution!Ladies and Gents this here is my brand new plan
It’s guaranteed to take down the man
First up we list all his wrongs
In a protest album full of remixed songs
Step two is even better
Hit him with a petition and an open letter
For step three we’ll ruin his trip to Tahiti
By daubing his beach house in artistic graffiti
And when he’s reeling like a cat in the rain
We’ll move in for the kill with a human chain
And expose him as a man most bitter
With paint bombs and a ton of glitter
And of course we’ll be coordinating via facebook and twitter
Qapla!there once was a Klingon called Worf, son of Mogh
Enlisting in Starfleet the Empire considered him rogue
He was fearless
Just like Kahless
And judging by his quarters, chainmail and spikes were in vogue
Taking one for the teamAmerica’s most famous Labor chief is of course Jimmy Hoffa
A firebrand, a scrapper, a militant and a full time Scoffa
He got pally with the mob
The pension fund he did rob
But the friendship eventually spoiled, and he received a final offa
The literally Cold WarTo Kronstadt, to attack alleged White Guards
While in the streets workers waved crude placards,
They manned the garrison there, mysteriously
Where we used to sneer imperiously
There demands Workers' control, soviet power
And stop nicking are bloody flour!
What could we do? Abandon the fort
After losing the cities support?
With it state power, given to the revolting masses?
Let them win and we'd lose our conference passes!
No: we would take a stronger, firmer grip,
And bail out, our battered sinking ship!
We marched to conquer fortress Kronstadt;
Beating them as we beat the real Whites
before they could show the world we were hypocritical shites.
We marched to conquer Fortress Kronstadt:
Under their guns across the ice-clad sea
Taken full advantage of their naive mercy
Went Congress delegate and soldier elite;
In that order too (when in retreat)
Their cannon smashed the ice on which we stood;
After we repeatedly spat on their attempts at brotherhood
After, when our bodies were reclaim
E.P.I.C.One of my favourite yank writers is that bloke Upton Sinclair
After making a fortune he used the money to build a communal lair
He rumbled the Meat packers Jungle
And documented the Oil barons bungle
The one thing he couldn’t do it seems, was climb the political stair
I don't pay attention to the newsUkraine’s in the news lately, I’m only familiar with Nestor Makhno
I’ve no idea how that’s pronounced so just assume it rhymes with snow
Which is also something I imagine Ukraine has quite a bit of?
Just like those other countries that where the people’s names end in “ov”
So anyway on to the Ukraine and something called Maidan
I didn’t know Ukraine had a lot of fans of Iron Maiden
Now apparently Russia has moved into the Ukraine east and taken over
Which surprised me, since on my map they had it all as well as Moldova
Though know I come to think of it
I don’t think Germany is still split
Between Westen und Ost
And Yugoslavia now appears lost
And according to google maps there’s now a New Mexico hey?
Why its enough to make you scratch yer head and say “Que”?
Take Us Away From HereBloody fields
Around the world
Their pure souls.
Are inside a hole
Far away from home.
Hear the guns
Having a ball
With those boys
We bleed the same
A liquid state
But for them
We are just flesh.
There’s no reason
For this plague
It’s a shame.
Children of PalestineDusty feet, kicking the ball,
Vigorously shouting 'goal'
Laughing running, scoring,
The evening sun, setting,
Looking up to the skies,
They see glistening stars,
Bringtly shining, falling down,
The stars seeds the floor,
And the laughing is no more.
AmericaA nation great and strong we stood
The symbol of a dream
A city on a shining hill
A torch, a glowing beam
A statue tall and proud we built
Of copper and of gold
Its feet of clay away were cut
It crumbled into mold
Corrupted now our leaders are
And sunken into greed
An illness growing in our land
A toxic spreading weed
Now all the people stand in awe
From sea to shining sea
Fearfully they wond’ring behold
The tears of Liberty
Graue MasseBin nicht der Richter, nur der Henker.
Bin weder Dichter, noch ein Denker.
Stets halte ich mein Haupt gesenkt.
Vertrau darauf, dass man mich lenkt
und werde niemals widersprechen.
Hab kein Prinzip, das ich könnt brechen.
Geblendet, blind, nicht aufgeklärt,
das hat sich schon sehr oft bewährt.
Battle of KettlesBattle of Kettles
Pot calls kettle black
They stood in the center of the field
Fist clenched for a fight
Each one called the other black
But really nobody is white
Each side has its followers
And those who support are misled
You should not think about the man
Think about what he said
Class Work Wealth
groomed and rested
grinning, devouring, procuring
Accounts and the amounts dwindle swiftly
sobbing, hungering, borrowing
desecrated and jaded
Ruinas del LamentoPerdido
El llanto de los niños
Bajo infinitas cortinas
De humo y plomo.
Idas las esperanzas
Muertas las almas
Cuerpos en llamas.
En sus manos
Un rezo implora
Pero se ahoga
En mares de idiocia.
Pierden su sentido.
Surge el rencor
El más puro corazón
Y algún anhelo
En el vacío.
The WorldTo truly maybe ever really feel,
Like the world has been spinning all around,
Where there’s always a little of a tilt,
So that you can’t tell which is up or down,
Even your world seems to always stager,
You feel as if you’re no longer moving,
As it feels like you’re going under,
And though you honestly all ready feel,
As if your soul is very close to go,
While inhaling your very last, last meal,
And it is as if you silently know,
That your souls ending time is nearly here,
As Death quietly whispers in your ear.
The Cleansing (revised)I
Listen up, Destiny! Don't show your cards
You might want to save the Queen of Hearts
Put your game face on and try for some patience ;
The battle's to begin with resounding trumpets
Rein in, Saboteurs, don’t cross another line
You've caused enough damage to last ten lifetimes
Dismantle your headquarters then get out of the way
so that the selfless of heart can reshape the clay
Stand down, Superstition, you need to loosen the nooses
around the necks of the innocent, make no more excuses!
Ignorance fuels your mania and its rampant delusion
Choke on the crow or prepare for a mental execution
Turn away, Hysteria, and shut out the blustering ego
the rhetoric you tuned into came from a misguided foe
Their ill-penned manifesto postulates what’s right and wrong
and absorbing the nuggets of extremism only drives‘them on
Gather around, children of Hope and Faith
it’s time to rally ar
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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