Sign in if you were born on a different cloud.
Different cloud to who?
Signing in.
I was born beneath a star that promised all
The ones that have burst around town
I was born in a crossfire hurricane.
I was born under a wandering star
I was born on a Dublin street where the royal drums do beat
And the loving English feet they tramped all over us
And each and every night when my father’d come home tight
He’d invite the neighbors outside with this chorus:
O come out ye Black and Tans, come out and fight me like a man
I was born under a vaginal glare.
4-4-2 and 4-5-1 are the most popular I believe
I was born.
In the day we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream
At night we ride through the mansions of glory in suicide machines
Sprung from cages out on highway nine,
Chrome wheeled, fuel injected,and steppin’ out over the line
H-Oh, Baby this town rips the bones from your back
It’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap
We gotta get out while we’re young
`Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run
I have lived for over forty years and I’ve seen ‘life as it is’. Pain. Misery. Cruelty beyond belief. I’ve heard all the voices of God’s noblest creature – moans from bundles of filth in the street. I’ve been a soldier and a slave. I’ve seen my comrades fall in battle or die more slowly under the lash in Africa. I’ve held them at the last moment. These were men who saw ‘life as it is,’ but they died despairing. No glory. No bray of last words. Only their eyes, filled with confusion, questioning, ‘Why?’ I do not think they were asking why they were dying, but why they had ever lived.
Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road,
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute by minute they live:
The stone’s in the midst of it all
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
I was born without a silver spoon
Stood at the top of the hill over my town, I was found
[QUOTE=“ChocolateMice, post: 1120103, member: 168”]I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.[/QUOTE]
Great poem.
In West Philadelphia born and raised
In the playground is where I spent most of my days
