FrEedOm LyRiC: chiLdren no more

16 April 2008

chiLdren no more

there comes a time in a mother's/father's life when s/he has to stop treating her/his chiLd as a baby. difficult, yeah, but children grow up too, and though they need their folks' guidance, they also have to do things on their own..

here's what billy ray cyrus (you rock!) has to say about what i just wrote.

1 comments:

Jules said...: Hi,

I'm Jules and I work at bestrank.com, a company interested in blog advertizing. I found
your blog engaging and I'm contacting you to ask if you are interested in blog post
sponsorship.

If you are interested, kindly mail back for confirmation(jules@bestrank.com).Please
include your blog's URL.
Looking forward to doing business with you.

Sincerely,

Jules Viernes
BestRank.com; Friday, July 25, 2008 8:04:00 AM

a moment to pray

indifference

When Jesus came to Golgotha
they hanged Him on a tree,
They drove the nails through hands and feet,
and made a Calvary;
They crowned Him with a crown of thorns,
red were His wounds and deep,
For those were crude and cruel days,
and human flesh was cheap.

When Jesus came to Birmingham
they simply passed Him by,
They never hurt a hair of Him,
they only let Him die;
For men had grown more tender
and would not give Him pain,
They only just passed down the street,
and left Him in the rain.

Still Jesus cried, "Forgive them,
for they know not what they do."
And still it rained the winter rain
that drenched Him through and through.
The crowds went home and left the street
with not a soul to see,
And Jesus crouched against a wall
and cried for Calvary.

© G.A. Studdert Kennedy

remember remember the fifth of november

"Remember, remember, the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot. I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot... But what of the man? I know his name was Guy Fawkes and I know, in 1605, he attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament. But who was he really? What was he like? We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught, he can be killed and forgotten, but 400 years later, an idea can still change the world. I've witnessed first hand the power of ideas, I've seen people kill in the name of them, and die defending them... but you cannot kiss an idea, cannot touch it, or hold it... ideas do not bleed, they do not feel pain, they do not love... And it is not an idea that I miss, it is a man... A man that made me remember the Fifth of November. A man that I will never forget." [evey]

v for vendetta

"Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of every day routine- the security of the familiar, the tranquility of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, thereby those important events of the past usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, a celebration of a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the 5th, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are of course those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night I sought to end that silence. Last night I destroyed the Old Bailey, to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words, they are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you then I would suggest you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot."

conversation of v & evey

V: [Evey pulls out her mace] I can assure you I mean you no harm.
Evey Hammond: Who are you?
V: Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask.
Evey Hammond: Well I can see that.
V: Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.
Evey Hammond: Oh. Right.
V: But on this most auspicious of nights, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona.
V: Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van-guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. [carves V into poster on wall]
V: The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. [giggles]
V: Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.
Evey Hammond: Are you like a crazy person?
V: I am quite sure they will say so. But, to whom am I speaking with?
Evey Hammond: I'm Evey.
V: Evey? E-V. Of course you are.
Evey Hammond: What does that mean?
V: It means that I, like God, do not play with dice and I don't believe in coincidences.

life for rent

_Dido Armstrong_

i haven't ever really found a place that i call home
i never stick around quite long enough to make it
i apologise that once again i'm not inlove
but it's not as if i mind that your heart ain't exactly breaking
it's just a thought, only a thought

but if my life is for rent and i don't learn to buy
well i deserve nothing more than i get
cos nothing i have is truly mine

i've always thought that i would love to live by the sea
to travel the world alone and live more simply
i have no idea what's happened to that dream
cos there's really nothing left here to stop me
it's just a thought, only a thought

but if my life is for rent and i don't learn to buy
well i deserve nothing more than i get
cos nothing i have is truly mine

while my heart is a shield and i won't let it down
while i am so afraid to fail so i won't even try
well how can i say i'm alive

but if my life is for rent and i don't learn to buy
well i deserve nothing more than i get
cos nothing i have is truly mine

•Dido is British, so the spelling of some words•

sand in my shoes

_Dido Armstrong_

two weeks away feels like the whole world should have changed
but i'm home now, and things still look the same
i think i'll leave it till tomorrow to unpack, try to forget for one more night that i'm back in my flat
on the road where the cars never stop going through the night
to a life where i can't watch the sun set, i don't have time, i don't have time

i've still got sand in my shoes and i can't shake the thought of you
i should get on, forget you but why would i want to
i know we said goodbye, anything else would have been confused
but i want to see you again

tomorrow's back to work and down to sanity
should run a bath and then clear up the mess i made before i left here
try to remind myself that i was happy here before i knew that i could get on a plane and fly away
from the road where the cars never stop going through the night
to a life where i can watch the sun set, and take my time, take all our time

i've still got sand in my shoes and i can't shake the thought of you
i should get on, forget you but why would i want to
i know we said goodbye, anything else would have been confused
but i want to see you again

two weeks away, all it takes, to change and turn me around i've fallen
i walked away, and never said that i wanted to see you again

i've still got sand in my shoes and i can't shake the thought of you
i should get on, forget you but why would i want to
i know we said goodbye, anything else would have been confused
but i want to see you again

i remember, i remember

_Thomas Hood_

I remember, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember
The roses red and white,
The violets and the lily cups--
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday,--
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then
That is so heavy now,
The summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember
The fir-trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,
But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm farther off from Heaven
Than when I was a boy.

little pilgrims

We are weary little pilgrims, straying in a world of gloom. Just behind us is the cradle, just before us is the tomb; there is nothing much to guide us, or the proper path to mark, as we toddle on our journey, little pilgrims in the dark. And we jostle, and we struggle in our feeble, futile wrath, always striving, always reaching to push others from the path; and the wrangling and the jangling of our peevish voices rise, to the seraphim that watch us through the starholes in the skies; and they say, "The foolish pilgrims! Watch them as they push and shove! They might have a pleasant ramble, if their hearts were full of love, if they'd cheer and help each other from the hour that they embark - but they are only blind and erring little pilgrims in the dark."

© Walt Mason

The Cold Within

Six humans trapped by happenstance
In black and bitter cold.
Each one possessed a stick of wood,
Or so the story's told.

Their dying fire in need of logs,
The first woman held hers back
For on the faces around the fire,
She noticed one was black.

The next man looking cross the way
Saw one not of his church,
And couldn't bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch.

The third man sat in tattered clothes;
He gave his coat a hitch.
Why should his log be put to use
To warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought
Of the wealth he had in store.
And how to keep what he had earned
From the lazy poor.

The black man's face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight,
For all he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white.

And the last man of this forlorn group
Did naught except for gain.
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game.

The logs held tight in death's still hands
Was proof of human sin.
They didn't die from the cold without,
They died from the cold within.

© unknown author

"I know but one freedom and that is the freedom of the mind."
~Antoine de Saint-Exupery~

"A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul."
~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe~

"There will be no end to the troubles of states, or . . . of humanity itself, til philosophers become kings."
~Plato~

"A man of worth does not think about the chances of life and death when he acts."
~Socrates~

A minister in a certain town in Alabama took permanent leave of his congregation. His farewell talk:
"Brothers and Sisters, I come to say good-by. I don't think God loves this Church because none of you ever die. I don't think you love each other, you never marry each other. I don't think you love me because you don't pay my salary. Brethren, I am going to a better place. I have been called to be a chaplain in a penitentiary. I go to prepare a place for you and may the Lord have mercy on your souls."

© On The Humor Side

FrEedOm LyRiC

16 April 2008

chiLdren no more

1 comments:

*His existence depends on your faith*

a moment to pray

*fLy FrEe_fReEdOm RiNgS*

savior

indifference

what exactLy do you wanna see?

*home*

_author_

*remember remember the fifth of november*

*v for vendetta*

*v*

conversation of v & evey

*v for vendetta*

*baldie_bald eagle*

*hakkai*

for tempus fugitterbugs

*by moonLight*

Archive

*redtaiL in fLight*

no permanent address

*aeon flux*

soldiers in church

*somethin to die for*

destino

*to kill or to protect?*

*jolie*

life for rent

*where in the world...?*

sand in my shoes

*home*

i remember, i remember

*welcome2poblacionsabangan*

little pilgrims

*mitre peak...new zeaLand*

The Cold Within

*hanamichi & takenori*

*sanzo*

*god save our king!*

His existence depends on your faith

fLy FrEe_fReEdOm RiNgS

home

remember remember the fifth of november

v for vendetta

v

v for vendetta

baldie_bald eagle

hakkai

by moonLight

redtaiL in fLight

aeon flux

somethin to die for

to kill or to protect?

jolie

where in the world...?

home

welcome2poblacionsabangan

mitre peak...new zeaLand

hanamichi & takenori

sanzo

god save our king!