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She looks like she combs her hair with an egg beater.

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Hairy Woes

(This not a poem. One day I thought whether I could write about hair problems and this is what I could come up with. Have a good hair day.)

Oh all the balding men of the world! Neither split your hair nor let your hair down; instead, get up to fight against hair experts and hair industries because, you have nothing to loss except hairs, which you are already losing anyway.

The scientific study published in, 'International Journal of Fake Studies', has proven beyond doubt that, all kinds of hairs and particularly black hairs, absorb sun light and thus indirectly contribute to the global warming whereas, shining bald pates reflect sun light back into the atmosphere, thus help to make earth’s climate cool. So taking these facts in account, bald persons should be given the tax rebate in form of carbon credits whereas, high taxation should be levied on persons with hair for leaving carbon footprints behind.

It is true my friend, that you are paying the tax as well as losing your hair, but try to imagine a plight of less fortunate ones, who neither earn enough money to pay the tax nor have enough hair to loss.

'Son! Why do you worry about your hair problems; get me mustards seeds from the home, that doesn't have hair problems', thus spake enlightened sage, hearing which young man became calm.

The biggest cause of hair fall, dandruff and other hair related problems is existence of hair.

No person with hair on his head, can solve all your hair problems, neither can the person without hair.

As, not all the armies of the world, can stop the idea whose time has come so, not all the hair experts can stem the progress of baldness, whose time has come.

Only two things are universal, hair problems and human stupidity, but I have doubt about former, thus spake Einstein of hair science.

Not all the trichologists, dermatologists and hair experts together, armed with shampoos, hair oils, hair dyes and herbal ointments can cure all the hair ailments, as long as hairs are there.

As long as hairs are there, there are going to be hair problems, similarly as long as shrinks are there, there are going to be mental problems.

The hair industry expands their business by perpetuating the two myths, first is there are more hair at unwanted place and other is, there are less hair at desired place.

Hair here, hair there, hair everywhere similarly: problem here, problem there, problem everywhere.

He fell in love with her hair and married the whole girl, soon he was without hair.

In early part of his life man losses his hair to earn money then he uses same money to gain hair back.

Don't bask in a glory of the hair, you used to have in past, instead tell me, do you have gorgeous hair now?

There is some truth in a myth that the bald men are fortunate; to begin with, they don't have to spend their fortune on comb, hair products, hair cuts and last but not least girls.

There are more blondes on streets of India than women of the rest of the world put together; thanks to Garnier. Take Care.

White hair is nothing but a flag hoisted by a tired life, signaling armistice with hostile time, which eventually leads to surrender to the death.

Blessed are the monks who shave their hair themselves, a symbol of a vanity of the world, because nature is going to destroy that vanity eventually anyhow.

Oh Sinner! Vain is your attempt to hide your sins, for sins will shine in your life as bald pate shines through the sparse tufts of hair.

It is irony that the monks who do not care for their hair often have beautiful and luxuriant hair.

Trees are nothing but hair of Gaia, the earth; if you destroy, them then earth too would take her revenge by creating conditions, that won't allow the hair to stay on your crown.

More often than not, one owns heir are responsible for one owns hair fall.

If you cannot prevent hair fall, enjoy it.

[...] Read more

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Egg Man

I looked out the window and seen his bald head
I ran to the fridge and pulled out an egg
Scoped him with my scopes he had no hair
Launched that shot and he was caught out there
Saw the convertible driving by
Loaded up the slingshot and let one fly
He went for his to find he didn't have one
Put him in check correct with my egg gun
The egg a symbol of life
Go inside your house and bust out your wife
Pulled out the jammy he thought it was a joke
The trigger I pulled his face the yoke
Reached in his pocket took all his cash
Left my man standing with an egg moustache
Suckers they come a dime a dozen
And when I say dozen you know what I'm talking about
Humpty Dumpty was a big fat egg
He was playing the wall and then he broke his leg
Tossed it out the window three minutes hot
Hit the Rastaman he said *bloodclot*
Which came first the chicken or the egg
I egged the chicken then I ate his leg
Riding the trains in between cars
When I pull out the station *you're gonna get yours*
Drive by eggings plaguing L.A.
*Yo they just got my little cousin ese*
Sometimes hard boiled sometimes runny
It comes from a chicken not a bunny dummy
People laugh it's no joke
My name's Yauch and I'm throwing the yoke
*Now they got me in a cell* but I don't care
It was then that I caught catching people out there
We all dressed in black we snuck up around the back
We began to attack the eggs did crack on Haze's back
Sam I am down with the program
Green eggs and ham Yosemite Sam
Come Halloween you know I come strapped
I throw it at a sucker K-pap
You made the mistake you judge a man by his race
You go through life with egg on your face
You woke up in the morning with a peculiar feeling
You looked up and saw egg dripping from the ceiling
Families puck rocks the businessman
I'll dog anybody with an egg in my hand
Not like the crack that you put in a pipe
But crack on your forehead here's a towel now wipe

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Eggman

I looked out the window and seen his bald head
I ran to the fridge and pulled out an egg
Scoped him with my scopes he had no hair
Launched that shot and he was caught out there
Saw the convertible driving by
Loaded up the slingshot and let one fly
He went for his to find he didn't have one
Put him in check correct with my egg gun
The egg a symbol of life
Go inside your house and bust out your wife
Pulled out the jammy he thought it was a joke
The trigger I pulled his face the yoke
Reached in his pocket took all his cash
Left my man standing with an egg moustache
Suckers they come a dime a dozen
And when I say dozen you know what I'm talking about
Humpty Dumpty was a big fat egg
He was playing the wall and then he broke his leg
Tossed it out the window three minutes hot
Hit the Rastaman he said *bloodclot*
Which came first the chicken or the egg
I egged the chicken then I ate his leg
Riding the trains in between cars
When I pull out the station *you're gonna get yours*
Drive by eggings plaguing L.A.
*Yo they just got my little cousin ese*
Sometimes hard boiled sometimes runny
It comes from a chicken not a bunny dummy
People laugh it's no joke
My name's Yauch and I'm throwing the yoke
*Now they got me in a cell* but I don't care
It was then that I caught catching people out there
We all dressed in black we snuck up around the back
We began to attack the eggs did crack on Haze's back
Sam I am down with the program
Green eggs and ham Yosemite Sam
Come Halloween you know I come strapped
I throw it at a sucker K-pap
You made the mistake you judge a man by his race
You go through life with egg on your face
You woke up in the morning with a peculiar feeling
You looked up and saw egg dripping from the ceiling
Families puck rocks the businessman
I'll dog anybody with an egg in my hand
Not like the crack that you put in a pipe
But crack on your forehead here's a towel now wipe

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Song Of The Egg

One sunny morning in late june
I heard a strange and mournful tune
I looked around the empty room
And stood awhile feeling bemused
A strange hallucination came
Was it a dimming in the brain?
But louder still the cries were coming
Like a distant droning humming
And then I saw the egg box open
Inside a weeping egg was broken
'oh take me to the boiling pot, or fry me quick, or scramble me,
come quick and cook me, set me free!
The unbroken eggs were strangely silent
Being advocates of violence
Rounded on the broken egg
'Oh take him quick and smash his head! '
Unable to fulfil his wish
The portly consumer changed his dish
Leaving the eggs inside the box
He had some fish
And changed his socks
Then caught a number 7 bus
And contemplating all the fuss
Threw the egg box from the bus
Only the broken egg was taken
To fry up later with some bacon
Arriving home later in the day
He found the egg had slid away
Off the plate and down the drain
Never to be seen again
but every now and then a drone
Rattled the pipes inside his home
The plumber was called but nothing was done
' It's a humming egg that's on the run, too slippery to clean away'
The bleedin humming lasted all day! There's nothing more that can be done,
'You'll have to wait til the fat lady's sung'
He thought of hiring a singer, but every singer was getting thinner
Til he found a fat girl called doris walking her dog out in the forest
She agreed to sing and being FAT
He thought 'she put an end to that,.moaning droning from the drain'
But when she stopped it came again,
Much stronger, louder harsh and clearer
Until the man could barely hear her
He called the priest to exorcise it
He called the Doctor for some pills
The constant humming made him ill
Until one day he'd had enough
He made a bomb and blew it up!
Standing amidst the smoke and rubble
He felt relieved of all his troubles

[...] Read more

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Give Your Heart To The Hawks

1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass

Under the old trees with rosy fruit.

In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a

basket,

The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.

Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.

Fayne snatched for it and missed;


Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small

Finely cut features in a dance of delight;

Fayne with one sweep flung at his face

All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,

[...] Read more

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Alexander Pope

The Rape of the Lock

Part 1

WHAT dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs,
What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things,
I sing -- This Verse to C---, Muse! is due;
This, ev'n Belinda may vouchfafe to view:
Slight is the Subject, but not so the Praise,
If She inspire, and He approve my Lays.
Say what strange Motive, Goddess! cou'd compel
A well-bred Lord t'assault a gentle Belle?
Oh say what stranger Cause, yet unexplor'd,
Cou'd make a gentle Belle reject a Lord?
And dwells such Rage in softest Bosoms then?
And lodge such daring Souls in Little Men?

Sol thro' white Curtains shot a tim'rous Ray,
And op'd those Eyes that must eclipse the Day;
Now Lapdogs give themselves the rowzing Shake,
And sleepless Lovers, just at Twelve, awake:
Thrice rung the Bell, the Slipper knock'd the Ground,
And the press'd Watch return'd a silver Sound.
Belinda still her downy Pillow prest,
Her Guardian Sylph prolong'd the balmy Rest.
'Twas he had summon'd to her silent Bed
The Morning-Dream that hover'd o'er her Head.
A Youth more glitt'ring than a Birth-night Beau,
(That ev'n in Slumber caus'd her Cheek to glow)
Seem'd to her Ear his winning Lips to lay,
And thus in Whispers said, or seem'd to say.

Fairest of Mortals, thou distinguish'd Care
Of thousand bright Inhabitants of Air!
If e'er one Vision touch'd thy infant Thought,
Of all the Nurse and all the Priest have taught,
Of airy Elves by Moonlight Shadows seen,
The silver Token, and the circled Green,
Or Virgins visited by Angel-Pow'rs,
With Golden Crowns and Wreaths of heav'nly Flowers,
Hear and believe! thy own Importance know,
Nor bound thy narrow Views to Things below.
Some secret Truths from Learned Pride conceal'd,
To Maids alone and Children are reveal'd:
What tho' no Credit doubting Wits may give?
The Fair and Innocent shall still believe.
Know then, unnumbered Spirits round thee fly,
The light Militia of the lower Sky;
These, tho' unseen, are ever on the Wing,
Hang o'er the Box, and hover round the Ring.
Think what an Equipage thou hast in Air,
And view with scorn Two Pages and a Chair.

[...] Read more

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I Am The Walrus

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together
See how we run like pigs from a gun, see how we fly, Im cryin
Sitting on a cornflake, Im waiting for the van to come
Corporation t-shirts, stupid bloody tuesday, man youve been a naughty boy
You let your face grow long
I am the egg man
We are the egg men
I am the walrus
Coo coo ca choo
Mister city, policemen city, pretty little policemen in a row
See how they fly like lucy in the sky, see how we run, Im cryin
Im cry, Im cryin, Im cry
Yellow mound of custard, dripping from a dead dogs eye
Grab a locker fish-wife, pornographic priestess, man youve been a
Naughty girl you let your knickers down
I am the egg man
We are the egg men
I am the walrus
Coo coo ca choo, coo coo coo ca choo
Sitting in an english garden waiting for the sun
If the sun dont come you get your tan from standing in the english rain
I am the egg man
We are the egg men
And I am the walrus
Coo coo ca choo, ca coo coo ca choo
Experts sexperts, choking smokers, dont you think the joker laughs at you?
See how they spy like pigs in the sky, see how they snide, Im cryin
Semelena pilchards, climbing up the eiffel tower
Elementary penguins singing hare krishna, man you should have seen him
Kicking edgar allan poe
I am the egg man
We are the egg men
I am the walrus
Coo coo ca choo, ca coo coo ca choo
Coo coo ca choo, ca coo coo ca choo coo coo
A tu-tu-tu baw, a tu-tu-tu baw, a tu-tu-tu baw, a tu-tu-tu baw, a tu-tu-tu baw

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Pork Roll Egg And Cheese

When you've had your fun, and your work is done,
You must not succumb.
I can feel you breathe. It's like a mega-weedge inside.
Please don't hide.
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
On a kaiser bun.
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
On a kaiser bun.
When the guava's drained, Eddie Dingle remains.
But we must further ourselves on.
So dynamic is life, staring into the sight's
Not right, but wrong in a good way.
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
On a kaiser bun.
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
On a kaiser bun.
When you've had your fun, and your work is done,
You must not succumb.
I can feel you breathe. It's like a mega-weedge inside.
Please don't hide.
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
On a kaiser bun.
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
On a kaiser bun.
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
Kaiser bun. Pork roll egg and cheese.

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Pork Roll Egg & Cheese

When youve had your fun, and your work is done, you must not
Succumb
I can feel you breathe, its like a mega-weedge inside,
Please dont hide
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
When the guavas drained, eddie dingle remains
But we must further ourselves on
So dynamic is life, staring into the sights
Not right, but wrong in a good way
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
When youve had your fun, and your work is done, you must not succumb
I can feel you breathe, its like a mega-weedge inside,
Please dont hide
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Kaiser bun
Pork roll egg and cheese
(zzzz... eeezz..
(apluase and cheers)
-thank you!
-... thank you!

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Pork Roll Egg And Cheese

When you've had your fun, and your work is done,
You must not succumb.
I can feel you breathe. It's like a mega-weedge inside.
Please don't hide.
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
On a kaiser bun.
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
On a kaiser bun.
When the guava's drained, Eddie Dingle remains.
But we must further ourselves on.
So dynamic is life, staring into the sight's
Not right, but wrong in a good way.
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
On a kaiser bun.
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
On a kaiser bun.
When you've had your fun, and your work is done,
You must not succumb.
I can feel you breathe. It's like a mega-weedge inside.
Please don't hide.
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
On a kaiser bun.
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
On a kaiser bun.
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese, if you please,
Kaiser bun. Pork roll egg and cheese.

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Pork Roll Egg & Cheese

When youve had your fun, and your work is done, you must not
Succumb
I can feel you breathe, its like a mega-weedge inside,
Please dont hide
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
When the guavas drained, eddie dingle remains
But we must further ourselves on
So dynamic is life, staring into the sights
Not right, but wrong in a good way
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
When youve had your fun, and your work is done, you must not succumb
I can feel you breathe, its like a mega-weedge inside,
Please dont hide
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Kaiser bun
Pork roll egg and cheese
(zzzz... eeezz..
(apluase and cheers)
-thank you!
-... thank you!

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I can EMIT TIME

'I Can! ' EMIT TIME
Kindly Refer to Notes

.


.


This retourne shows how Time bright glows,
Inspiring plan Life offers man,
Maintains red rose, sustains verse, prose,
Egg, chicken, span, - ensure ‘I can! ’

TIME’s sum’s not dumb, repeating drum
Inspiring plan Life offers man,
May link ‘become’ through rule of thumb
EMIT true scan light once began.


The heart that sows is star that glows
In tune reel ran fed through rhyme’s fan,
Maintains red rose, sustains verse, prose,
Ends in well ran, begins “I can! ”


Time’s reel ebbs, flows, all comes and goes,
In caravan reversing scan
Much magic flows, touch insight knows,
Egg, chicken, span, - ensure ‘I can! ’

.


Egg, chicken, span, - ensure ‘I can! ’
Much magic flows, touch insight knows,
In caravan reversing scan, -
Time’s reel ebbs, flows, all comes and goes.

Ends in well ran, begins “I can! ”
Maintains red rose, sustains verse, prose,
In tune reel ran fed through rhyme’s fan, -
The heart that sows is star that glows.

[...] Read more

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ode to an EGG

A fried egg means many things to me

A boiled egg does not entice me quite as much

An omelette with some onion and some cheese

Speaks love made with a 'masters touch'


The fried egg is full of grease and sleaze

And it never comes alone

Though it arrives in a white holy frock

It won't leave your arteries alone

It arrives in the morning on a piece of toast

A bit like a prayer, but without the 'holy ghost'

In the evening it sits heavy on a plate of chips and peas

And though it means well

It clogs your pipes sends them all to hell!

The Egg is in short quite diffident at times

Hiding behind two slices of bread

At other times it shines sublime

As 'eggs benedicte it is quite refined'

Taken with 'high tea' and people in high places

Sometimes it breaks down

Scrambles in dispair leaving by the back entrance unaware

After 'recovery' it returns watery poached and bare

Slipping away without a care

' Give us this day our daily egg '

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I. The Ring and the Book

Do you see this Ring?
'T is Rome-work, made to match
(By Castellani's imitative craft)
Etrurian circlets found, some happy morn,
After a dropping April; found alive
Spark-like 'mid unearthed slope-side figtree-roots
That roof old tombs at Chiusi: soft, you see,
Yet crisp as jewel-cutting. There's one trick,
(Craftsmen instruct me) one approved device
And but one, fits such slivers of pure gold
As this was,—such mere oozings from the mine,
Virgin as oval tawny pendent tear
At beehive-edge when ripened combs o'erflow,—
To bear the file's tooth and the hammer's tap:
Since hammer needs must widen out the round,
And file emboss it fine with lily-flowers,
Ere the stuff grow a ring-thing right to wear.
That trick is, the artificer melts up wax
With honey, so to speak; he mingles gold
With gold's alloy, and, duly tempering both,
Effects a manageable mass, then works:
But his work ended, once the thing a ring,
Oh, there's repristination! Just a spirt
O' the proper fiery acid o'er its face,
And forth the alloy unfastened flies in fume;
While, self-sufficient now, the shape remains,
The rondure brave, the lilied loveliness,
Gold as it was, is, shall be evermore:
Prime nature with an added artistry—
No carat lost, and you have gained a ring.
What of it? 'T is a figure, a symbol, say;
A thing's sign: now for the thing signified.

Do you see this square old yellow Book, I toss
I' the air, and catch again, and twirl about
By the crumpled vellum covers,—pure crude fact
Secreted from man's life when hearts beat hard,
And brains, high-blooded, ticked two centuries since?
Examine it yourselves! I found this book,
Gave a lira for it, eightpence English just,
(Mark the predestination!) when a Hand,
Always above my shoulder, pushed me once,
One day still fierce 'mid many a day struck calm,
Across a Square in Florence, crammed with booths,
Buzzing and blaze, noontide and market-time,
Toward Baccio's marble,—ay, the basement-ledge
O' the pedestal where sits and menaces
John of the Black Bands with the upright spear,
'Twixt palace and church,—Riccardi where they lived,
His race, and San Lorenzo where they lie.

[...] Read more

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John Bunyan

Meditations Upon An Egg

1.

The egg's no chick by falling from the hen;
Nor man a Christian, till he's born again.
The egg's at first contained in the shell;
Men, afore grace, in sins and darkness dwell.
The egg, when laid, by warmth is made a chicken,
And Christ, by grace, those dead in sin doth quicken.
The egg, when first a chick, the shell's its prison;
So's flesh to the soul, who yet with Christ is risen.
The shell doth crack, the chick doth chirp and peep,
The flesh decays, as men do pray and weep.
The shell doth break, the chick's at liberty,
The flesh falls off, the soul mounts up on high
But both do not enjoy the self-same plight;
The soul is safe, the chick now fears the kite.

2.

But chicks from rotten eggs do not proceed,
Nor is a hypocrite a saint indeed.
The rotten egg, though underneath the hen,
If crack'd, stinks, and is loathsome unto men.
Nor doth her warmth make what is rotten sound;
What's rotten, rotten will at last be found.
The hypocrite, sin has him in possession,
He is a rotten egg under profession.

3.

Some eggs bring cockatrices; and some men
Seem hatch'd and brooded in the viper's den.
Some eggs bring wild-fowls; and some men there be
As wild as are the wildest fowls that flee.
Some eggs bring spiders, and some men appear
More venom'd than the worst of spiders are.[16]
Some eggs bring piss-ants, and some seem to me
As much for trifles as the piss-ants be.
Thus divers eggs do produce divers shapes,
As like some men as monkeys are like apes.
But this is but an egg, were it a chick,
Here had been legs, and wings, and bones to pick.

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Sneaky With the Looks

Sneaky with the looks that they give.

I perceive myself alone.
I feel a curiosity directed.
At first I am not sure,
If the curiosity is directed towards me.
And I look around.
Nothing is there to block my steps.
And I begin to whistle in nervousness.
To then talk to myself...
In a calming peacefulness.
I admit is beginning to get a bit restless.

Sneaky with the looks that they give.

I am among the trees.
Alone in fresh Spring breezes.

Sneaky with the looks that they give.

I begin to hear the chirping of birds.
Conversing to break the silence,
With a charm that does not disturb.
And they fly high between the trees.
Trying to hide within the leaves.

Sneaky with the looks that they give.

I follow a path made clear of obstacles.
I stop.
So does the chirping.
I pick up a small rock,
To toss as I also pick up a twig.
There is a wind.
And I continue my journey.

Wings flap as if there is clapping.
I adjust my cap.
And two squirrels chase...
Across my path!
To play tag and hide and seek.
I stop to watch.

Sneaky with the looks that they give.

I look up!
And there they all sit.
As if in conference on a branch.
Together...
Laughing!

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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.


II.

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I Saw It Myself (Short Verse Drama)

Dramatis Personae: Adrian, his wife Ester, his sisters Rebecca and Johanna, his mother Elizabeth, the high priest Chiapas, the disciple Simon Peter, the disciple John, Mary Magdalene, worshipers, priests, two angels and Jesus Christ.

Act I

Scene I.- Adrian’s house in Jerusalem. Adrian has just returned home after a business journey in Galilee, in time to attend the Passover feast. He sits at the table with his wife Ester and his sisters, Rebecca and Johanna. It’s just before sunset on the Friday afternoon.

Adrian. (Somewhat puzzled) Strange things are happening,
some say demons dwell upon the earth,
others angelic beings, miracles take place
and all of this when they had put a man to death,
had crucified a criminal. Everybody knows
the cross is used for degenerates only!

Rebecca. (With a pleasant voice) Such harsh words used,
for a good, a great man brother?
They say that without charge
he healed the sick, brought back sight,
cured leprosy, even made some more food,
from a few fishes and loafs of bread…

Adrian. (Somewhat harsh) They say many things!
That he rode into Jerusalem
to be crowned as the new king,
was a rebel against the state,
even claimed to be
the very Son of God,
now that is blasphemy
if there is no truth to it!

Johanna. I met him once.
He’s not the man
that you make him, brother.
There was a strange tranquilly to Him.
Some would say a divine presence,
while He spoke of love that is selfless,
visited the sick, the poor
and even the destitute, even harlots.

Adrian. (Looks up) There you have it!
Harlots! Tax collecting thieves!
A man is know by his friends,
or so they say and probably
there is some truth to it.

Ester. Husband, do not be so quick to judge.
I have seen Him myself, have seen
Roman soldiers marching Him to the hill
to take His life, with a angry crowd
following and mocking Him.

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Senlin: His Futile Preoccupations

1

I am a house, says Senlin, locked and darkened,
Sealed from the sun with wall and door and blind.
Summon me loudly, and you'll hear slow footsteps
Ring far and faint in the galleries of my mind.
You'll hear soft steps on an old and dusty stairway;
Peer darkly through some corner of a pane,
You'll see me with a faint light coming slowly,
Pausing above some gallery of the brain . . .

I am a city . . . In the blue light of evening
Wind wanders among my streets and makes them fair;
I am a room of rock . . . a maiden dances
Lifting her hands, tossing her golden hair.
She combs her hair, the room of rock is darkened,
She extends herself in me, and I am sleep.
It is my pride that starlight is above me;
I dream amid waves of air, my walls are deep.

I am a door . . . before me roils the darkness,
Behind me ring clear waves of sound and light.
Stand in the shadowy street outside, and listen--
The crying of violins assails the night . . .
My walls are deep, but the cries of music pierce them;
They shake with the sound of drums . . . yet it is strange
That I should know so little what means this music,
Hearing it always within me change and change.

Knock on the door,--and you shall have an answer.
Open the heavy walls to set me free,
And blow a horn to call me into the sunlight,--
And startled, then, what a strange thing you will see!
Nuns, murderers, and drunkards, saints and sinners,
Lover and dancing girl and sage and clown
Will laugh upon you, and you will find me nowhere.
I am a room, a house, a street, a town.

2

It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning
When the light drips through the shutters like the dew,
I arise, I face the sunrise,
And do the things my fathers learned to do.
Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops
Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die,
And I myself on a swiftly tilting planet
Stand before a glass and tie my tie.

Vine leaves tap my window,

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Carl Sandburg

Women Washing Their Hair

They have painted and sung
the women washing their hair,
and the plaits and strands in the sun,
and the golden combs
and the combs of elephant tusks
and the combs of buffalo horn and hoof.

The sun has been good to women,
drying their heads of hair
as they stooped and shook their shoulders
and framed their faces with copper
and framed their eyes with dusk or chestnut.

The rain has been good to women.
If the rain should forget,
if the rain left off for a year—
the heads of women would wither,
the copper, the dusk and chestnuts, go.

They have painted and sung
the women washing their hair
reckon the sun and rain in, too.

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