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Hunger is an infidel.

Arabian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cultural Infidel

I'm a cultural infidel
Painting in the dark
I'm a cultural infidel
Singin' in the park
Socrates, hypotheses, the music of Mozart
I'm a cultural infidel
Comin' from the heart
Free thinkin', hood-winkin', unblinkin' mon
Start trouble, burst bubbles, join my caravahn
Someones got to talk about accountability
Someones got to raise some hell
I guess it could be me
I'm a cultural infidel
Tryin' to draw a crowd
I'm a cultural infidel
Singin' right out loud
Philosophy is not for me, laughin' is my game
I'm a cultural infidel
Slap me with the blame
Loose cannon, armageddon, preachers at the door
Spittin' poison at the boys'n'girls on the dance floor
I hear them in the congress
I see them on TV
I hope the inquisition remains a memory
... horn/pan instrumental ...
Al diablo Picasso, al diablo Manet
Al diablo Fontainebleu, al diablo Hemingway
O diab dr. Thompson, o diab San Joan
O diab Village People, o diab Rolling Stone
(hoo hoo)
Someones got to talk about accountability
Someones got to raise some hell
It might as well be me
I'm a cultural infidel
believe in common sense
I'm a cultural infidel
Love the present tense
But we have to keep a lookout for those mean old backed up farts
I'm a cultural infidel
Comin' from the heart
My heart, my heart, my heart
Mon coeur...
Will I see you in heaven?
Will I see you in hell?
Will I see you in Rio
Only time will...
Will I see you in heaven?
Will I see you in hell?
Will I see you tomorrow?
Only time will tell

song performed by Jimmy Buffett (1996)
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 06

'This were a wikkede wey but whoso hadde a gyde
That [myghte] folwen us ech a foot' - thus this folk hem mened.
Quod Perkyn the Plowman, ' By Seint Peter of Rome!
I have an half acre to erie by the heighe weye;
Hadde I cryed this half acre and sowen it after,
I wolde wende with yow and the wey teche.'
'This were a long lettyng,' quod a lady in a scleyre;

'What sholde we wommen werche the while?'
'Somme shul sowe the sak ' quod Piers, ' for shedyng of the whete;
And ye lovely ladies with youre longe fyngres,
That ye have silk and sandel to sowe whan tyme is
Chesibles for chapeleyns chirches to honoure.
Wyves and widewes, wolle and flex spynneth
Maketh cloth, I counseille yow, and kenneth so youre doughtres.
The nedy and the naked, nymeth hede how thei liggeth,
And casteth hem clothes, for so commaundeth Truthe.
For I shal lenen hem liflode, but if the lond faille,
As longe as I lyve, for the Lordes love of hevene.
And alle manere of men that by mete and drynke libbeth,
Helpeth hym to werche wightliche that wynneth youre foode.'
'By Crist!' quod a knyght thoo, 'he kenneth us the beste;
Ac on the teme, trewely, taught was I nevere.
Ac kenne me,' quod the knyght, 'and by Crist I wole assaye!'
'By Seint Poul!' quod Perkyn, 'Ye profre yow so faire
That I shal swynke and swete and sowe for us bothe,
And [ek] labour[e] for thi love al my lif tyme,
In covenaunt that thow kepe Holy Kirke and myselve
Fro wastours and fro wikked men that this world destruyeth;
And go hunte hardiliche to hares and foxes,
To bores and to bukkes that breken down myne hegges;
And go affaite thi faucons wilde foweles to kille,
For thei cometh to my croft and croppeth my whete.'
Curteisly the knyght thanne co[nseyved] thise wordes
'By my power, Piers, I plighte thee my trouthe
To fulfille this forward, though I fighte sholde;
Als longe as I lyve I shal thee mayntene.'
' Ye, and yet a point,' quod Piers, 'I preye yow of moore

Loke ye tene no tenaunt but Truthe wole assente;
And though ye mowe amercy hem, lat mercy be taxour
And mekenesse thi maister, maugree Medes chekes.
And though povere men profre yow presentes and yiftes,
Nyme it noght, an aventure thow mowe it noght deserve;
For thow shalt yelde it ayein at one yeres ende
In a ful perilous place - Purgatorie it hatte.
And mysbede noght thi bondemen - the bettre may thow spede;
Though he be thyn underlyng here, wel may happe in hevene
That he worth worthier set and with moore blisse
Amice, ascende superius.

[...] Read more

poem by William Langland
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Looking East

Standing in the ocean with the sun burning low in the west
Like a fire in the cavernous darkness at the heart of the beast
With my beliefs and possessions, stopped at the frontier in my chest
At the edge of my country, my back to the sea, looking east
Where the search for the truth is conducted with a wink and a nod
And where power and position are equated with the grace of god
These times are famine for the soul while for the senses its a feast
From the edge of my country, as far as you see, looking east
Hunger in the midnight, hunger at the stroke of noon
Hunger in the mansion, hunger in the rented room
Hunger on the tv, hunger on the printed page
And theres a god-sized hunger underneath the laughing and the rage
In the absence of light
And the deepening night
Where I wait for the sun
Looking east
How long have I left my mind to the powers that be?
How long will it take to find the higher power moving in me?
Power in the insect
Power in the sea
Power in the snow falling silently
Power in the blossom
Power in the stone
Power in the song being sung alone
Power in the wheatfield
Power in the rain
Power in the sunlight and the hurricane
Power in the silence
Power in the flame
Power in the sound of the lovers name
The power of the sunrise and the power of a prayer released
On the edge of my country, I pray for the ones with the least
Hunger in the midnight, hunger at the stroke of noon
Hunger in the banquet, hunger in the bride and groom
Hunger on the tv, hunger on the printed page
And theres a god-sized hunger underneath the questions of the age
And an absence of light
In the deepening night
Where I wait for the sun
Looking east

song performed by Jackson Browne
Added by Lucian Velea
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Born With The Hunger

Hear the coyote howl
He's found his pray at last
In one moment of weakness
The chase is over so fast
He celebrates his kill
No mercy in his eyes
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger never dies
Midnight is on the prowl
And I hear it call my name
Danger lurks in the shadows
But it's all part of a game
Until I quench this thirst
I will not close these eyes
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger never dies
You and I, we're the same
We both carry this flame
To depths of our souls
Once the fever awakes
We can never escape
It's beyond our control
We're both born with the hunger
Oh with the hunger
Temptation bites your lip
One kiss ignites the fire
So begins the seduction
As we succumb to desire
Your body aches for more
Why are you so surprised
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger never dies
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger - it never dies
Never dies
When you're born with the hunger It never dies
When you're born with the hunger Oh, it never dies
He celebrates the kill
You're born with the hunger
It never dies

song performed by Cher
Added by Lucian Velea
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Krisco Kisses

(gill/johnson/nash/otoole)
*thunder thunder
I love that thunder- yeah
Hunger hunger
You feed my hunger - yeah
Hunger hunger
**take it to the top my love
Lets take it to the top
With a fist way past the rest
Take it to the top
***you fit me like a glove, my love
You fit me like a glove
Be my friend my be-bop
Take it to the top my love
****krisco kisses, kisses
Never misses, misses
Krisco kisses, kisses
You can take it up, up and up
*(repeat)
**(repeat)
You fit me like a glove my love
My little puppet glove
Be my friend, my be-bop
Take it to the top, my love oh
Yeah
****(repeat)
Higher, higher
I love that thunder
You feed my hunger
Higher, higher
I love that thunder
You feed my hunger
Hunger, hunger
Hunger, hunger
Hunger, hunger
You fit me like a glove my love
You fit me like a glove
You fit me like a glove my love
You fit me like a glove
***(repeat)
****(repeat)

song performed by Frankie Goes To Hollywood
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Paradise Regained

THE FIRST BOOK

I, WHO erewhile the happy Garden sung
By one man's disobedience lost, now sing
Recovered Paradise to all mankind,
By one man's firm obedience fully tried
Through all temptation, and the Tempter foiled
In all his wiles, defeated and repulsed,
And Eden raised in the waste Wilderness.
Thou Spirit, who led'st this glorious Eremite
Into the desert, his victorious field
Against the spiritual foe, and brought'st him thence 10
By proof the undoubted Son of God, inspire,
As thou art wont, my prompted song, else mute,
And bear through highth or depth of Nature's bounds,
With prosperous wing full summed, to tell of deeds
Above heroic, though in secret done,
And unrecorded left through many an age:
Worthy to have not remained so long unsung.
Now had the great Proclaimer, with a voice
More awful than the sound of trumpet, cried
Repentance, and Heaven's kingdom nigh at hand 20
To all baptized. To his great baptism flocked
With awe the regions round, and with them came
From Nazareth the son of Joseph deemed
To the flood Jordan--came as then obscure,
Unmarked, unknown. But him the Baptist soon
Descried, divinely warned, and witness bore
As to his worthier, and would have resigned
To him his heavenly office. Nor was long
His witness unconfirmed: on him baptized
Heaven opened, and in likeness of a Dove 30
The Spirit descended, while the Father's voice
From Heaven pronounced him his beloved Son.
That heard the Adversary, who, roving still
About the world, at that assembly famed
Would not be last, and, with the voice divine
Nigh thunder-struck, the exalted man to whom
Such high attest was given a while surveyed
With wonder; then, with envy fraught and rage,
Flies to his place, nor rests, but in mid air
To council summons all his mighty Peers, 40
Within thick clouds and dark tenfold involved,
A gloomy consistory; and them amidst,
With looks aghast and sad, he thus bespake:--
"O ancient Powers of Air and this wide World
(For much more willingly I mention Air,
This our old conquest, than remember Hell,
Our hated habitation), well ye know
How many ages, as the years of men,

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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Hunger Hunger To Worship

hunger hunger building up in heart
hunger hunger mounting building up in soul
hunger need hunger grows grows needs to be sated
hunger need hunger need to worship to worship God
hunger ache pain growing need to rush run to God
to rush back to God’s arms as we met in gift creativity
our souls are out back out upon swift flowing healing water
we are together carried over all all lighter darker ink water
we are together giving always giving love throughout time
hunger hunger to love worship universe creator our God

poem by Terence George Craddock
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April, March! Soldiers Search for HUNGER MARCH - A1 Story

World has advanced in many days...
Yet in 21st Century poverty retains in umpteen ways;
Hunger glinted in his eyes...
He does begging and petty thievery, at the same time!
Cheeks were sunken and clothes were in rags but still, a crime!
Believe I swear in the name of god, my words are not lies.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.

I saw a rag picker scrounging for a coin in the garbage,
Though he is with bare foot who knows as bub, he is cute!
Owing to the troubles he met, made him mute.
He can fill the rivers with poverty's tears...
His eyes were pale and mouth opened for food cabbage!
One among is he, pleading and begging the passersby yet nobody hears.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.

The street is lighted with half naked
Bodies go begging down, the street and half fed,
From head to toe they're covered with poverty, yet
With pain and misery as their make-up set;
Hunger is present in their stomach and a rat's race!
And it is vaguely seen on their face and a food race.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.

Labourers in construction breaking the stones...
And lifting the bricks while scorching sun is the witness!
They work bodily, resembles awkward dance of a heap of bones,
The skin saturates and swallows the heat, I bet!
Leaving it dark as the midnight sky, oh! What a mess!
Their hopes are dashed; life is smashed of body’s sweat!

The Mother weeps and father yells!
Sitting in the house of poverty and what-else!
Small sister sleeps and her little brother dies and I linger;
His father only stares as he is killed by hunger...
Why doctors only cure diseases and why not
Poverty - the biggest disease of all. Is it not?
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.

Every now and then in newspapers, I hear
The death of a peasant or two, oh my dear!
Unable to feed family, life has become Herculean task,
Drowned himself in melancholy, under hunger mask!
Bogged down under wheels of Pressure, not to hide...
Due to debts of treasure, he committed suicide!
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.

Lot of hunger and empty bowl without food is poverty,
Not having one more dress to take bath is poverty,
............................................. ..............................................

[...] Read more

poem by Harindhar Reddy
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The Siege of Corinth

In the year since Jesus died for men,
Eighteen hundred years and ten,
We were a gallant company,
Riding o'er land, and sailing o'er sea
Oh ! but we went merrily !
We forded the river, and clomb the high hill,
Never our steeds for a day stood still;
Whether we lay in the cave or the shed,
Our sleep fell soft on the hardest bed:
Whether we couch'd in our rough capote,
On the rougher plank of our gliding boat.
Or stretch'd on the beach, or our saddles spread
As a pillow beneath the resting head,
Fresh we woke upon the morrow:
All our thoughts and words had scope,
We had health, and we had hope,
Toil and travel, but no sorrow.
We were of all tongues and creeds; ---
Some were those who counted beads,
Some of mosque, and some of church;
Yet through the wide world might ye search,
Nor find a motlier crew nor blither.
But some are dead, and some are gone,
And some are scatter'd and alone,
And some are rebels on the hills
That look along Epirus' valleys,
Where freedom still at moments rallies,
And pays in blood oppression's ills;
And some are in a far countree,
And some all restlessly at home;
But never more, oh ! never, we
Shall meet to revel and to roam.
But those hardy days flew cheerily !
And when they now fall drearily,
My thoughts, like swallows, skim the main,
And bear my spirit back again
Over the earth, and through the air,
A wild bird and a wanderer.
'Tis this that ever wakes my strain,
And oft, too oft, implores again
The few who may endure my lay,
To follow me so far away.
Stranger --- wilt thou follow now,
And sit with me on Acro-Corinth's brow?

I
Many a vanish'd year and age,
And tempest's breath, and battle's rage,
Have swept o'er Corinth; yet she stands,
A fortress form'd to Freedom's hands.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron (1816)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Hunger For The Flesh

Spare a thought for the souls
Who cannot leave this earth
The attachments bind so tightly, not a chance
Not a chance of a new birth
The river gently beckons
But the answer is no
Gripping their illusions
They cannot let them go
Hunger for the flesh
Leads them to a weaker heart
Mortals who imprisoned themselves
Let them have a new start
Wishing to hold onto life and all its games
Singing their lament song
Holding back the change
They came here for to dance
To learn and not to cling
Holding onto life
As if it were the important thing
Hunger for the flesh
Hunger for security
Caught up in the mesh
Caught up for eternity
Hunger for the flesh
Hunger for security
Caught up in the mesh
Caught up for eternity
The river gently beckons
But the answer is no
Gripping their illusions
They cannot let them go
Hunger for the flesh
Leads them to a weaker heart
Mortals who imprison themselves
Let them have a new start
Let them have a new start
Hunger for the flesh
Hunger for security
Caught up in the mesh
Caught up for eternity
Hunger for the flesh
Hunger for security
Caught up in the mesh
Holding back the change

song performed by Howard Jones
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Paradise Regained: The Second Book

Meanwhile the new-baptized, who yet remained
At Jordan with the Baptist, and had seen
Him whom they heard so late expressly called
Jesus Messiah, Son of God, declared,
And on that high authority had believed,
And with him talked, and with him lodged—I mean
Andrew and Simon, famous after known,
With others, though in Holy Writ not named—
Now missing him, their joy so lately found,
So lately found and so abruptly gone,
Began to doubt, and doubted many days,
And, as the days increased, increased their doubt.
Sometimes they thought he might be only shewn,
And for a time caught up to God, as once
Moses was in the Mount and missing long,
And the great Thisbite, who on fiery wheels
Rode up to Heaven, yet once again to come.
Therefore, as those young prophets then with care
Sought lost Eliah, so in each place these
Nigh to Bethabara—in Jericho
The city of palms, AEnon, and Salem old,
Machaerus, and each town or city walled
On this side the broad lake Genezaret,
Or in Peraea—but returned in vain.
Then on the bank of Jordan, by a creek,
Where winds with reeds and osiers whispering play,
Plain fishermen (no greater men them call),
Close in a cottage low together got,
Their unexpected loss and plaints outbreathed:—
"Alas, from what high hope to what relapse
Unlooked for are we fallen! Our eyes beheld
Messiah certainly now come, so long
Expected of our fathers; we have heard
His words, his wisdom full of grace and truth.
'Now, now, for sure, deliverance is at hand;
The kingdom shall to Israel be restored:'
Thus we rejoiced, but soon our joy is turned
Into perplexity and new amaze.
For whither is he gone? what accident
Hath rapt him from us? will he now retire
After appearance, and again prolong
Our expectation? God of Israel,
Send thy Messiah forth; the time is come.
Behold the kings of the earth, how they oppress
Thy Chosen, to what highth their power unjust
They have exalted, and behind them cast
All fear of Thee; arise, and vindicate
Thy glory; free thy people from their yoke!
But let us wait; thus far He hath performed—
Sent his Anointed, and to us revealed him

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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The hunger

the hunger thinks the rice
can chew both skin and bone
the hunger thinks it's nice
to eat although forlorn

the hunger thinks the corn
can swallow ears and eyes
deaf blind hunger born
self eaten within it dies

the hunger thinks the food
is just a body's unfair breath
the hunger knows the interlude
no food the body eats itself

the hunger thinks the body rotten
is just a place to survive and eat
the hunger of the lost and forgotten
makes its way to the last heart beat

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Aint Nothin But A Maybe

(n. ashford/v. simpson)
Could it be hes interested
Or am I just wanting it to be so
Do I dare speak to him
Should I let the moment go
Forget this hunger inside
Forget this hunger inside
Should I let the feeling flow
Should I just let it flow
Aint nothing maybe, baby
I sure would like to know
Could it be hes just friendly
That aint nothing to get excited about
On the other hand he could be answering
Good vibrations Im sending out
Well I just dont know
What Im really seeing
Should I make a move
Or keep on day dreaming
Aint nothing maybe, baby
I sure would like to
I wanna know
I wanna know
I wanna know
I sure would like to
Could it be hes interested
Should I let the moment go
Forget this feeling inside
Forget this feeling inside
Should I let the feeling flow
Should I just let it flow
Aint nothing maybe, baby
I sure would like to
I wanna know
I wanna know
I wanna know
Forget this hunger inside
Forget this hunger inside
Should I let the feeling flow
Should I just let it flow
Aint nothing maybe
Aint nothing maybe, baby
Forget this hunger inside
Forget this hunger inside
Should I let the feeling flow
Should I just let it flow
Aint nothing maybe, baby
Aint nothing maybe, baby
Forget this hunger inside
Forget this hunger inside

song performed by Diana Ross
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Spookshow Baby

Oh high noon dead moon
A hangin all over you yeah
Devilman yes I can cut a little peice of you yeah
Hunger! inside you
Hunger!
Hunger! destroy you
Hunger!
Swift might dead night
Thats all right for you yeah
Voodoo man yes I can tear it all down for you yeah
Shes a killer!
Shes a thriller!
Spookshow baby!
Shes a killer!
Shes a thriller!
Yeah spookshow baby!
Red rain, no pain
Fallin down over you yeah
Wicked man yes I can a walkin all over you yeah
Hunger! inside you
Hunger!
Hunger! destroy you
Hunger!
Shes a killer!
Shes a thriller!
Spookshow baby!
Shes a killer!
Shes a thriller!
Yeah spookshow baby!
Bright glove, mad love
A movin all over you yeah
Psycho man yes I can do it all over for you yeah
Shes a killer!
Shes a thriller!
Spookshow baby!
Shes a killer!
Shes a thriller!
Yeah spookshow baby!

song performed by Rob Zombie
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Hunger In The Night

Theres a heart flight of a neon moon in the darkness of this shuttered room
Watch out
Easy for some action holy satisfaction ooh
Midnight makes a call skin begins to crawl
Inside the heights upon the fantasies
Let me introduce you now
Im gonna let you see the other side of me
Theres a hunger in the night moves me completely
Hunger in the night bleeds so sweetly
(its) a hunger in the night moves me completely
The hunger in the night bleeds so sweetly
Through the shadows you wont hear a thing
Cloaked in darkness my loves a deadly sting
Watch out
Comes in through the fence, sliding in the shiv
Want to be a hero situations zero
Inside the heights upon the fantasies
Let me introduce you now Im gonna let you see the other side of me
Chorus
As I lie me down to sleep, with the lord my soul to keep
If I die before I wake, will the lord my soul to take
This life has no distance, between the line and another day
Instrumental
The hunger in the night moves me completely
Hunger in the night, bleeds so sweetly
Hunger in the night, damned if you see me
Hunger in the night, come and see me

song performed by Ufo
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A Tale of the Sea

A pathetic tale of the sea I will unfold,
Enough to make one's blood run cold;
Concerning four fishermen cast adrift in a dory.
As I've been told I'll relate the story.
T'was on the 8th April on the afternoon of that day
That the village of Louisburg was thrown into a wild state or dismay,

And the villagers flew to the beach in a state of wild uproar
And in a dory they found four men were cast ashore.
Then the villagers, in surprise assembled about the dory,
And they found that the bottom of the boat was gory;
Then their hearts were seized with sudden dread,
when they discovered that two of the men were dead.

And the two survivors were exhausted from exposure, hunger, and cold,
Which used the spectators to shudder when them they did behold;
And with hunger the poor men couldn't stand on their feet,
They felt so weakly on their legs for want of meat.

They were carried to a boarding-house without delay,
But those that were looking on were stricken with dismay,
When the remains of James and Angus McDonald were found in the boat,
Likewise three pieces or flesh in a pool or blood afloat.

Angus McDonald's right arm was missing from the elbow,
and the throat was cut in a sickening manner which filled the villagers hearts with woe,
Especially when they saw two pieces of flesh had been cut from each thigh,
'Twas then the kind-hearted villagers did murmur and sigh.

Angus McDonald must have felt the pangs of hunger before he did try
to cut two pieces of fiesh from James McDonald's thigh,
But, Oh heaven! the pangs of hunger are very hard to thole,
And anything that's eatable is precious unto an hungry soul.

Alas it is most pitiful and horrible to think
That with hunger christians will each other's blood drink
And eat each other's flesh to save themselves from starvation;
But the pangs or hunger makes them mad, and drives them to desperation.

An old American soldier that had passed through the Civil War,
Declared the scene surpassed anything he's seen by far,
And at the sight, the crowd in horror turned away,
which no doubt they will remember for many a day.

Colin Chisholm, one of the survivors was looking very pale,
Stretched on a sofa at the boarding-house, making his wail:
Poor fellow! his feet was greatly swollen, and with a melancholy air,
He gave the following account of the distressing affair:

We belonged to the American fishing schooner named "Cicely",

[...] Read more

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Troubadour. Canto 3

LAND of the olive and the vine,
The saint and soldier, sword and shrine!
How glorious to young RAYMOND'S eye
Swell'd thy bold heights, spread thy clear sky,
When first he paused upon the height
Where, gather'd, lay the Christian might.
Amid a chesnut wood were raised
Their white tents, and the red cross blazed
Meteor-like, with its crimson shine,
O'er many a standard's scutcheon'd line.

On the hill opposite there stood
The warriors of the Moorish blood,--
With their silver crescents gleaming,
And their horse-tail pennons streaming;
With cymbals and the clanging gong,
The muezzin's unchanging song,
The turbans that like rainbows shone,
The coursers' gay caparison,
As if another world had been
Where that small rivulet ran between.

And there was desperate strife next day:
The little vale below that lay
Was like a slaughter-pit, of green
Could not one single trace be seen;
The Moslem warrior stretch'd beside
The Christian chief by whom he died;
And by the broken falchion blade
The crooked scymeter was laid.

And gallantly had RAYMOND borne
The red cross through the field that morn,
When suddenly he saw a knight
Oppress'd by numbers in the fight:
Instant his ready spear was flung,
Instant amid the band he sprung;--
They fight, fly, fall,--and from the fray
He leads the wounded knight away!
Gently he gain'd his tent, and there
He left him to the leech's care;
Then sought the field of death anew,--
Little was there for knight to do.

That field was strewn with dead and dying;
And mark'd he there DE VALENCE lying
Upon the turbann'd heap, which told
How dearly had his life been sold.
And yet on his curl'd lip was worn
The impress of a soldier's scorn;

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poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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To A Foil'd European Revolutionaire

COURAGE yet! my brother or my sister!
Keep on! Liberty is to be subserv'd, whatever occurs;
That is nothing, that is quell'd by one or two failures, or any
number of failures,
Or by the indifference or ingratitude of the people, or by any
unfaithfulness,
Or the show of the tushes of power, soldiers, cannon, penal statutes.

Revolt! and still revolt! revolt!
What we believe in waits latent forever through all the continents,
and all the islands and archipelagos of the sea;
What we believe in invites no one, promises nothing, sits in calmness
and light, is positive and composed, knows no discouragement,
Waiting patiently, waiting its time.

(Not songs of loyalty alone are these, 10
But songs of insurrection also;
For I am the sworn poet of every dauntless rebel, the world over,
And he going with me leaves peace and routine behind him,
And stakes his life, to be lost at any moment.)

Revolt! and the downfall of tyrants!
The battle rages with many a loud alarm, and frequent advance and
retreat,
The infidel triumphs--or supposes he triumphs,
Then the prison, scaffold, garrote, hand-cuffs, iron necklace and
anklet, lead-balls, do their work,
The named and unnamed heroes pass to other spheres,
The great speakers and writers are exiled--they lie sick in distant
lands, 20
The cause is asleep--the strongest throats are still, choked with
their own blood,
The young men droop their eyelashes toward the ground when they meet;
--But for all this, liberty has not gone out of the place, nor the
infidel enter'd into full possession.

When liberty goes out of a place, it is not the first to go, nor the
second or third to go,
It waits for all the rest to go--it is the last.

When there are no more memories of heroes and martyrs,
And when all life, and all the souls of men and women are discharged
from any part of the earth,
Then only shall liberty, or the idea of liberty, be discharged from
that part of the earth,
And the infidel come into full possession.

Then courage! European revolter! revoltress! 30

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poem by Walt Whitman
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Wanting, not the want is the cause.

Hunger for porridge, hunger for desserts,
Or hunger for wine makes one steal.
Hunger for shelter, hunger for power,
Or hunger for sex makes one steal.
Hunger dies not. So is the stealing.
19.04.2001, Pmdi

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Flee On Your Donkey

Because there was no other place
to flee to,
I came back to the scene of the disordered senses,
came back last night at midnight,
arriving in the thick June night
without luggage or defenses,
giving up my car keys and my cash,
keeping only a pack of Salem cigarettes
the way a child holds on to a toy.
I signed myself in where a stranger
puts the inked-in X's—
for this is a mental hospital,
not a child's game.

Today an intern knocks my knees,
testing for reflexes.
Once I would have winked and begged for dope.
Today I am terribly patient.
Today crows play black-jack
on the stethoscope.

Everyone has left me
except my muse,
that good nurse.
She stays in my hand,
a mild white mouse.

The curtains, lazy and delicate,
billow and flutter and drop
like the Victorian skirts
of my two maiden aunts
who kept an antique shop.

Hornets have been sent.
They cluster like floral arrangements on the screen.
Hornets, dragging their thin stingers,
hover outside, all knowing,
hissing: the hornet knows.
I heard it as a child
but what was it that he meant?
The hornet knows!
What happened to Jack and Doc and Reggy?
Who remembers what lurks in the heart of man?
What did The Green Hornet mean, he knows?
Or have I got it wrong?
Is it The Shadow who had seen
me from my bedside radio?

Now it's Dinn, Dinn, Dinn!
while the ladies in the next room argue

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poem by Anne Sexton
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