I'm about as Chinese as Herbert Hoover.
quote by Paul Muni
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Conversazzhony
What conversazzhyonies wuz I really did not know,
For that, you must remember, wuz a powerful spell ago;
The camp wuz new 'nd noisy, 'nd only modrit sized,
So fashionable sossiety wuz hardly crystallized.
There hadn't been no grand events to interest the men,
But a lynchin', or a inquest, or a jackpot now an' then.
The wimmin-folks wuz mighty scarce, for wimmin, ez a rool,
Don't go to Colorado much, excep' for teachin' school,
An' bein' scarce an' chipper and pretty (like as not),
The bachelors perpose, 'nd air accepted on the spot.
Now Sorry Tom wuz owner uv the Gosh-all-Hemlock mine,
The wich allowed his better haff to dress all-fired fine;
For Sorry Tom wuz mighty proud uv her, an' she uv him,
Though she wuz short an' tacky, an' he wuz tall an' slim,
An' she wuz edjicated, an' Sorry Tom wuz not,
Yet, for her sake, he'd whack up every cussid cent he'd got!
Waal, jest by way uv celebratin' matrimonial joys,
She thought she'd give a conversazzhyony to the boys,--
A peert an' likely lady, 'nd ez full uv 'cute idees
'Nd uv etiquettish notions ez a fyste is full uv fleas.
Three-fingered Hoover kind uv kicked, an' said they might be durned
So far ez any conversazzhyony was concerned;
He'd come to Red Hoss Mountain to tunnel for the ore,
An' not to go to parties,--quite another kind uv bore!
But, bein' he wuz candidate for marshal uv the camp,
I rayther had the upper holts in arguin' with the scamp;
Sez I, "Three-fingered Hoover, can't ye see it is yer game
To go for all the votes ye kin an' collar uv the same?"
The wich perceivin', Hoover sez, "Waal, ef I must, I must;
So I'll frequent that conversazzhyony, ef I bust!"
Three-fingered Hoover wuz a trump! Ez fine a man wuz he
Ez ever caused an inquest or blossomed on a tree!--
A big, broad man, whose face bespoke a honest heart within,--
With a bunch uv yaller whiskers appertainin' to his chin,
'Nd a fierce mustache turnt up so fur that both his ears wuz hid,
Like the picture that you always see in the "Life uv Cap'n Kidd."
His hair wuz long an' wavy an' fine as Southdown fleece,--
Oh, it shone an' smelt like Eden when he slicked it down with grease!
I'll bet there wuzn't anywhere a man, all round, ez fine
Ez wuz Three-fingered Hoover in the spring uv '69!
The conversazzhyony wuz a notable affair,
The bong tong deckolett 'nd en regaly bein' there;
The ranch where Sorry Tom hung out wuz fitted up immense,--
The Denver papers called it a "palashal residence."
There wuz mountain pines an' fern an' flowers a-hangin' on the walls,
An' cheers an' hoss-hair sofies wuz a-settin' in the halls;
[...] Read more
poem by Eugene Field
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Na Tian Piet's Sha'er Of The Late Sultan Abu Bakar Of Johor
In the name of God, let his word begin:
Praise be to God, let praises clear ring;
May our Lord, Jesus Christ's[8] blessings
Guide my pen through these poetizings!
This sha'er is an entirely new composition
Composed by myself, no fear of imitation.
It's Allah's name, I will keep calling out
While creating this poem to avoid confusion.
This story I'm relating at the present moment
I copy not, nor is it by other hands wrought;
Nothing whatsoever is here laid out
That hereunder is not clearly put forth.
Not that I am able to create with much ease,
To all that's to come I'm yet not accustomed;
Why, this sha'er at this time is being composed
Only to console my heart which is heavily laden.
I'm a peranakan[9], of Chinese origin,
Hardly perfect in character and mind;
I find much that I can not comprehend,
I'm not a man given to much wisdom.
Na Tian Piet[10] is what I go by name
I have in the past composed stories and poems;
Even when explained to - most stupid I remain
The more I keep talking the less I understand.
I was born in times gone by
In the country known as Bencoolen[11];
Indeed, I am more than stupid:
Ashamed am I composing this lay.
Twenty-four years have gone by
Since I moved to the island of Singapore;
My wife and children accompanied me
To Singapore, a most lovely country.
I stayed in Riau[12] for some time
Together with my wife and children;
Two full years in Riau territory,
Back to Singapore my legs carried me.
At the time when Acheh[13] was waging war
I went there with goods to trade,
I managed to sell them at exhorbitant prices:
Great indeed were the profits I made.
[...] Read more
poem by T. Wignesan
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The Great Chinese Dragon
The great Chinese dragon which is the greatest dragon in all the
world and which once upon a time was towed across the
Pacific by a crew of coolies rowing in an open boat—was
the first real live dragon ever actually to reach these shores
And the great Chinese dragon passing thru the Golden Gate
spouting streams of water like a string of fireboats then broke
loose somewhere near China Camp gulped down a hundred
Chinese seamen and forthwith ate all the shrimp in San Francisco Bay
And the great Chinese dragon was therefore forever after confined
in a Chinatown basement and ever since allowed out only for
Chinese New Year’s parades and other Unamerican demonstrations
paternally watched-over by those benevolent men in
blue who represent our more advanced civilization which has
reached such a high state of democracy as to allow even a
few barbarians to carry on their quaint native customs in our midst
And thus the great Chinese dragon which is the greatest dragon
in all the world now can only be seen creeping out of an
Adler Alley cellar like a worm out of a hole sometime during
the second week in February every year when it sorties out
of hibernation in its Chinese storeroom pushed from behind
by a band of fortythree Chinese electricians and technicians
who stuff its peristaltic accordion-body up thru a sidewalk
delivery entrance
And first the swaying snout appears and then the eyes at ground
level feeling along the curb and then the head itself casting
about and swayingand heaving finally up to the corner of
Grant Avenue itself where a huge paper sign proclaims the
World’s Largest Chinatown
And the great Chinese dragon’s jaws wired permanently agape as
if by a demented dentist to display the Cadmium teeth as the
hungry head heaves out into Grant Avenue right under the
sign and raising itself with a great snort of fire suddenly proclaims
the official firecracker start of the Chinese New Year
And the lightbulb eyes lighting up and popping out on coiled wire
springs and the body stretching and rocking further and
further around the corner and down Grant Avenue like a
caterpillar rollercoaster with the eyes sprung out and waving
in the air like the blind feelers of some mechanical preying
mantis and the eyes blinking on and off with Chinese red
pupils and tiny bamboo-blind eyelids going up and down
And here comes the St. Mary’s Chinese Girls’ Drum Corps and
here come sixteen white men in pith helmets beating big bass
drums representing the Order of the Moose and here comes
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
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Gioconda And Si-Ya-U
to the memory of my friend SI-YA-U,
whose head was cut off in Shanghai
A CLAIM
Renowned Leonardo's
world-famous
"La Gioconda"
has disappeared.
And in the space
vacated by the fugitive
a copy has been placed.
The poet inscribing
the present treatise
knows more than a little
about the fate
of the real Gioconda.
She fell in love
with a seductive
graceful youth:
a honey-tongued
almond-eyed Chinese
named SI-YA-U.
Gioconda ran off
after her lover;
Gioconda was burned
in a Chinese city.
I, Nazim Hikmet,
authority
on this matter,
thumbing my nose at friend and foe
five times a day,
undaunted,
claim
I can prove it;
if I can't,
I'll be ruined and banished
forever from the realm of poesy.
1928
Part One
Excerpts from Gioconda's Diary
15 March 1924: Paris, Louvre Museum
At last I am bored with the Louvre Museum.
[...] Read more
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Who Dares To Take This Life From Me, Knows No Better
I
An important thing in living
Is to know when to go;
He who does not know this
Has not far to go,
Though death may come and go
When you do not know.
Come, give me your hand,
Together shoulder and cheek to shoulder
We'll go, sour kana in cheeks
And in the mornings cherry sticks
To gum: the infectious chilli smiles
Over touch-me-not thorns, crushing snails
From banana leaves, past
Clawing outstretched arms of the bougainvillea
To stone the salt-bite mangoes.
Tread carefully through this durian kampong
For the ripe season has pricked many a sole.
II
la la la tham'-pong
Let's go running intermittent
To the spitting, clucking rubber fruit
And bamboo lashes through the silent graves,
Fresh sod, red mounds, knee stuck, incensing joss sticks
All night long burning, exhuming, expelling the spirit.
Let's scour, hiding behind the lowing boughs of the hibiscus
Skirting the school-green parapet thorny fields.
Let us now squawk, piercing the sultry, humid blanket
In the shrill wakeful tarzan tones,
Paddle high on.the swings
Naked thighs, testicles dry.
Let us now vanish panting on the climbing slopes
Bare breasted, steaming rolling with perspiration,
Biting with lalang burn.
Let us now go and stand under the school
Water tap, thrashing water to and fro.
Then steal through the towkay's
Barbed compound to pluck the hairy
Eyeing rambutans, blood red, parang in hand,
And caoutchouc pungent with peeling.
Now scurrying through the estate glades
Crunching, kicking autumnal rubber leavings,
Kneading, rolling milky latex balls,
Now standing to water by the corner garden post.
[...] Read more
poem by T. Wignesan
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The Chinese Nightingale
A Song in Chinese Tapestries
"How, how," he said. "Friend Chang," I said,
"San Francisco sleeps as the dead—
Ended license, lust and play:
Why do you iron the night away?
Your big clock speaks with a deadly sound,
With a tick and a wail till dawn comes round.
While the monster shadows glower and creep,
What can be better for man than sleep?"
"I will tell you a secret," Chang replied;
"My breast with vision is satisfied,
And I see green trees and fluttering wings,
And my deathless bird from Shanghai sings."
Then he lit five fire-crackers in a pan.
"Pop, pop," said the fire-crackers, "cra-cra-crack."
He lit a joss stick long and black.
Then the proud gray joss in the corner stirred;
On his wrist appeared a gray small bird,
And this was the song of the gray small bird:
"Where is the princess, loved forever,
Who made Chang first of the kings of men?"
And the joss in the corner stirred again;
And the carved dog, curled in his arms, awoke,
Barked forth a smoke-cloud that whirled and broke.
It piled in a maze round the ironing-place,
And there on the snowy table wide
Stood a Chinese lady of high degree,
With a scornful, witching, tea-rose face....
Yet she put away all form and pride,
And laid her glimmering veil aside
With a childlike smile for Chang and for me.
The walls fell back, night was aflower,
The table gleamed in a moonlit bower,
While Chang, with a countenance carved of stone,
Ironed and ironed, all alone.
And thus she sang to the busy man Chang:
"Have you forgotten....
Deep in the ages, long, long ago,
I was your sweetheart, there on the sand—
Storm-worn beach of the Chinese land?
We sold our grain in the peacock town
Built on the edge of the sea-sands brown—
Built on the edge of the sea-sands brown....
"When all the world was drinking blood
[...] Read more
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Massacre in Nanjing
On a clear winter day you can see from Tokyo
The snow-capped volcanic cone of Mount Fuji.
Towering to a height of 3,776 meters on Honshu Island,
About 100 kilometers south-west from the capital,
The majestic mountain is a staunch symbol
Of the Land of the Rising Sun.
During the Sino-Japanese War of 1937-1945,
Hirohito's armies invaded China, carrying along
A fascist banner of samurai honor and pride.
The Japanese Imperial troops
Advanced with brutal force,
Committing dreadful atrocities
Against prisoners and civilians.
They reinterpreted bushido virtues and believed
That their war crimes elevated the splendor and glory
Of Mount Fuji to new heights.
Articles published in November and December 1937
In the Tokyo Nichi Nichi Shimbun reported the exploits
Of Japanese Imperial Army officers Toshiaki Mukai and
Tsuyoshi Noda, who on the road to Nanjing competed,
For being the first to behead 100 Chinese with a sword.
Okumiya Masatake, a Japanese officer,
Was a witness to the atrocities.
He was a principled aviator in the Imperial Navy,
Serving in Jiangsu.
He was shocked by the carnage he saw in China.
On December 12,1937,
He participated outside Nanjing
In the bombing and sinking
Of the American Gunboat USS Panay
In the Yangtze River.
A few days after the sinking of the Panay,
Okumiya rode a chauffeur-driven car,
Searching for the bodies of downed Japanese pilots.
It was then that he had witnessed
His Majesty's Imperial Troops
Perpetrating gruesome Massacres.
In the streets of Nanjing, Japanese soldiers
Were slaughtering indiscriminately
Chinese men and women, young and old.
On December 25 and 27 of 1937,
Okumiya photographed in the capital
Piles of innumerable bodies of Chinese people,
Lying unburied along the Yangtze River
[...] Read more
poem by Paul Hartal
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Chinese woman
When your eyes,
Meet mine,
You smile,
So fine.
The thought
Of being with you,
Excites me,
It’s all I wanna do.
Chinese woman,
I love you,
Chinese woman,
Why don’t you love me too?
Chinese woman,
Don’t go far away,
Chinese woman,
Why don’t you stay?
Every time,
You see me,
I try
to be funny.
I don’t understand,
You laugh and smile,
Yet I don’t hear from
You in a while.
Chinese woman,
I love you,
Chinese woman,
Why don’t you love me too?
Chinese woman,
Don’t go far away,
Chinese woman,
Why don’t you stay?
Days come
In and out.
Still I have
To shout.
Just so you
Look at me.
Just so you
Can see…
[...] Read more
poem by Roger Naya
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Herbert
Whilst cleaning out a stable
A was about to light me light
When a voice behind my shoulder
Said “It’s rather cold tonight”
“How do you do”, he said “I’m, Herbert”
then he give his foot a stamp
“I expect this has quite shaken you”
He was right! …A nearly dropped me lamp.
For a start he’d no right talking
A mean he were a Bloody Horse!
And secondly he had real a posh voice
E’ made me sound proper coarse.
“Well” a said “am gobsmacked”
am am not sure what to do
a talking horse named Herbert
A you sure that, that was you?
“Of course not, don’t be silly
But I’ll tell you what you missed
You see that pig behind you
Then he whispered “Ventriloquist”
Well a give the Pig a reet good stare
But he never blinked an eye.
“Herbert art thou takin piss”
and the horse he said “I try”
So it is you that’s bloody talking
But isn’t that’s against the rules?
the Horse just looked straight at me
and you could see him thinking “fool! ”
Now that’s a matter of opinion
As to who’s allowed to talk
I mean you humans just have two legs
But you still allowed to walk.
OK OK I said, a take your point
I suppose it’s really up to you
But for all them years not one horse spoke
Now suddenly “how do you bloody do”
A’ said hang on just a minute Herbert
How come you picked today?
Oh it was by way of an experiment
Just to see what you would say.
[...] Read more
poem by Bill Mitton
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Chinese Rock
Transcribed by marco ferrero
Note: this is a ramones song. i used the chord file from that version.
Its the same idea.
Intro:
F g f g
Bb c bb c
F g f g
Bb c bb c
Verse 1:
F g
Somebody call me on the door
Say hey hey hey its arty home
You wanna take a walk, you wanna go cop
You wanna go get some chinese rock
Chorus:
D a g a
Im living on a chinese rock
All my best things are in hock
Im living on a chinese rock
Everything is in the pawn shop
Bridge:
F g f g
Bb c bb c
F g f g
Bb c bb c
Verse 2:
F g
The plaster fallin off the wall
My girlfriends cryin in the shower stall
Its hot as a bitch, I shouldve been rich
But Im just diggin a chinese ditch
Repeat chorus:
Bridge:
E g a e g a
D a g
E g a e g a
D a g
Verse 3:
F g
The plaster fallin off the wall
My girlfriends cryin in the shower stall
Its hot as a bitch, I shouldve been rich
But Im just diggin a chinese ditch
Repeat chorus:
D a g a
Im living on a chinese rock
Im living on a chinese rock
Im living on a chinese rock
Im living on a chinese rock
F g f g f g f
song performed by Violent Femmes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Chinese Rocks
Transcribed by marco ferrero
Note: this is a ramones song. i used the chord file from that version.
Its the same idea.
Intro:
F g f g
Bb c bb c
F g f g
Bb c bb c
Verse 1:
F g
Somebody call me on the door
Say hey hey hey its arty home
You wanna take a walk, you wanna go cop
You wanna go get some chinese rock
Chorus:
D a g a
Im living on a chinese rock
All my best things are in hock
Im living on a chinese rock
Everything is in the pawn shop
Bridge:
F g f g
Bb c bb c
F g f g
Bb c bb c
Verse 2:
F g
The plaster fallin off the wall
My girlfriends cryin in the shower stall
Its hot as a bitch, I shouldve been rich
But Im just diggin a chinese ditch
Repeat chorus:
Bridge:
E g a e g a
D a g
E g a e g a
D a g
Verse 3:
F g
The plaster fallin off the wall
My girlfriends cryin in the shower stall
Its hot as a bitch, I shouldve been rich
But Im just diggin a chinese ditch
Repeat chorus:
D a g a
Im living on a chinese rock
Im living on a chinese rock
Im living on a chinese rock
Im living on a chinese rock
F g f g f g f
song performed by Violent Femmes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Phrenology
"COME, collar this bad man -
Around the throat he knotted me
Till I to choke began -
In point of fact, garotted me!"
So spake SIR HERBERT WRITE
To JAMES, Policeman Thirty-two -
All ruffled with his fight
SIR HERBERT was, and dirty too.
Policeman nothing said
(Though he had much to say on it),
But from the bad man's head
He took the cap that lay on it.
"No, great SIR HERBERT WHITE -
Impossible to take him up.
This man is honest quite -
Wherever did you rake him up?
"For Burglars, Thieves, and Co.,
Indeed, I'm no apologist,
But I, some years ago,
Assisted a Phrenologist.
"Observe his various bumps,
His head as I uncover it:
His morals lie in lumps
All round about and over it."
"Now take him," said SIR WHITE,
"Or you will soon be rueing it;
Bless me! I must be right, -
I caught the fellow doing it!"
Policeman calmly smiled,
"Indeed you are mistaken, sir,
You're agitated - riled -
And very badly shaken, sir.
"Sit down, and I'll explain
My system of Phrenology,
A second, please, remain" -
(A second is horology).
Policeman left his beat -
(The Bart., no longer furious,
Sat down upon a seat,
Observing, "This is curious!")
[...] Read more
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Chinese Girls
(jack hues)
A star is shining
Into my eyes
It will not fall
A star is wise
Across the harbor
Perfumed hills
The silent waters
And all is still
Oh yeah
Chinese girls stand, see right through you
Chinese girls can sway
Chinese girls will melt your heart
And take your breath away
Chinese girls would dance with god
Chinese girls dont care
Put their hands around their heads
And through their chinese hair
She is not moving
She does not talk
Birds in her hair
Where she walks
And when she gazes
Theres a pearl
I will not forget
My chinese girl
song performed by Wang Chung
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Hoover Factory
Five miles out of london on the western avenue
Must have been a wonder when it was brand new
Talkin bout the splendour of the hoover factory
I know that youd agree if you had seen it too
Its not a matter of life or death
But what is, what is ?
It doesnt matter if I take another breath
Who cares ? who cares ?
Green for go, green for action
From park royal to north acton
Past scrolls and inscriptions like those of the egyptian age
And one of these days the hoover factory
Is gonna be all the rage in those fashionable pages
Five miles out of london on the western avenue
Must have been a wonder when it was brand new
Talkin bout the splendour of the hoover factory
I know that youd agree if you had seen it too
Its not a matter of life or death
But what is, what is ?
It doesnt matter if I take another breath
Who cares ? who cares ?
song performed by Elvis Costello
Added by Lucian Velea
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Our Lady of the Mine
The Blue Horizon wuz a mine us fellers all thought well uv,
And there befell the episode I now perpose to tell uv;
'T wuz in the year uv sixty-nine,--somewhere along in summer,--
There hove in sight one afternoon a new and curious comer;
His name wuz Silas Pettibone,--a' artist by perfession,--
With a kit of tools and a big mustache and a pipe in his possession.
He told us, by our leave, he 'd kind uv like to make some sketches
Uv the snowy peaks, 'nd the foamin' crick, 'nd the distant mountain
stretches;
"You're welkim, sir," sez we, although this scenery dodge seemed to us
A waste uv time where scenery wuz already sooper-floo-us.
All through the summer Pettibone kep' busy at his sketchin',--
At daybreak off for Eagle Pass, and home at nightfall, fetchin'
That everlastin' book uv his with spider-lines all through it;
Three-Fingered Hoover used to say there warn't no meanin' to it.
"Gol durn a man," sez he to him, "whose shif'less hand is sot at
A-drawin' hills that's full uv quartz that's pinin' to be got at!"
"Go on," sez Pettibone, "go on, if joshin' gratifies ye;
But one uv these fine times I'll show ye sumthin' will surprise ye!"
The which remark led us to think--although he didn't say it--
That Pettibone wuz owin' us a gredge 'nd meant to pay it.
One evenin' as we sat around the Restauraw de Casey,
A-singin' songs 'nd tellin' yarns the which wuz sumwhat racy,
In come that feller Pettibone, 'nd sez, "With your permission,
I'd like to put a picture I have made on exhibition."
He sot the picture on the bar 'nd drew aside its curtain,
Sayin', "I reckon you'll allow as how that's art, f'r certain!"
And then we looked, with jaws agape, but nary word wuz spoken,
And f'r a likely spell the charm uv silence wuz unbroken--
Till presently, as in a dream, remarked Three-Fingered Hoover:
"Onless I am mistaken, this is Pettibone's shef doover!"
It wuz a face--a human face--a woman's, fair 'nd tender--
Sot gracefully upon a neck white as a swan's, and slender;
The hair wuz kind uv sunny, 'nd the eyes wuz sort uv dreamy,
The mouth wuz half a-smilin', 'nd the cheeks wuz soft 'nd creamy;
It seemed like she wuz lookin' off into the west out yonder,
And seemed like, while she looked, we saw her eyes grow softer, fonder,--
Like, lookin' off into the west, where mountain mists wuz fallin',
She saw the face she longed to see and heerd his voice a-callin';
"Hooray!" we cried,--"a woman in the camp uv Blue Horizon!
Step right up, Colonel Pettibone, 'nd nominate your pizen!"
A curious situation,--one deservin' uv your pity,--
No human, livin', female thing this side of Denver City!
But jest a lot uv husky men that lived on sand 'nd bitters,--
Do you wonder that that woman's face consoled the lonesome critters?
And not a one but what it served in some way to remind him
[...] Read more
poem by Eugene Field
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Chinese Way
Take a journey back in time
Leave the western world behind
Cross the mountains to Peking
Where the paper laterns gently swing
The Chinese way
Who knows what they know
The Chinese legend grows
My eyes wide open
I feel a breeze
Words softly spoken
In Cantonese
Standing at the master's side
The with patience he confides
Secret knowledge - sacred ways
Paerls of wisdom from the dragon days
I could never lie
For honour I would lie
Following the Chinese way
So many years ago hero's ruled the world
(Some died for love in a cruel world)
They were the only ones in a cruel world
I could never lie
For honour I would lie
Following the Chinese way
From the mountains to Peking
Where the paper laterns gently swing
The Chinese way
Who knows what they know
The Chinese legend grows
song performed by Level 42
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Chinese Way
Take a journey back in time
Leave the western world behind
Cross the mountains to peking
Where the paper laterns gently swing
The chinese way
Who knows what they know
The chinese legend grows
My eyes wide open
I feel a breeze
Words softly spoken
In cantonese
Standing at the masters side
The with patience he confides
Secret knowledge - sacred ways
Paerls of wisdom from the dragon days
I could never lie
For honour I would lie
Following the chinese way
So many years ago heros ruled the world
(some died for love in a cruel world)
They were the only ones in a cruel world
I could never lie
For honour I would lie
Following the chinese way
From the mountains to peking
Where the paper laterns gently swing
The chinese way
Who knows what they know
The chinese legend grows
song performed by Level 42
Added by Lucian Velea
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Chinese Box
For years, the 'Muse of the Heavenly Gates'
Had stood in the shade of a country lane,
Quietly tending its residents there,
The old, the feeble, the stark insane.
The blurb said, here was a heaven on earth
For the old to pass their declining years,
It said they lived in a quiet content,
The truth was actually quite the reverse.
For Matron Margaret Parker-Lang was
A nun, expelled from the Carmelites,
'Too much of the world', they said of her,
When caught indulging in base delights.
The years had hardened, had turned her hair
An iron grey, and her eyes were cold,
She only smiled when the visitors came
To pay the fees for their aged, in gold.
She didn't encourage their visits, though:
'It's hard, you see, and they get upset,
Best to remember them how they were,
Their memories fade, then they forget.'
Few would revisit the Heavenly Gates,
They left them safe in the nurse's care,
Who drugged the residents every night
So none could complain of their treatment there.
They gathered them all in a stupor, sat
In rows, in front of a giant screen,
Then played them movies in black and white
'Til half the residents there could scream.
The food was bland and inedible,
So soon they wasted to skin and bone,
And those who thought to protest would find
They'd confiscated their telephone.
The visiting Locum, Doctor Zourk,
Had quite a collection of things antique,
Whenever he'd visit a prospect's home,
They'd be committed, within the week.
Then he and the Matron would take their pick
Of anything there that took the eye,
If anyone later complained, they'd say:
'He'd put it out for the rubbish guy! '
But once in 'The Muse of the Heavenly Gates'
The trap would spring, the shades come down,
They'd flourish the papers and help him sign
His house and his title deeds to them.
Again, when his mind was wandering
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Recaptured
Recaptured,
From desires of wanting favorite seasons...
To remain unchanged.
Recaptured,
From seeking things to bring me happiness...
To last forever.
Realizing that would be a long wait,
Between each whim.
As boredom began to suddenly creep in.
Recaptured,
From beliefs that winning anything,
Brought a peace of mind.
When peace of any kind,
Is determined and defined...
By the one who finds it,
Without conditions sought.
Recaptured,
From thoughts that good sex...
Had to involve someone else.
Well...
I am recuperating,
From years spent in self contained confinement.
We all adapt to our own entrapments.
Nothing is perfect.
And besides...
My recovery may be a slower process than others.
And I am in no hurry,
To begin interviews with anyone...
Who may qualify to satisfy my needs.
Some abilities acquired,
Never leave one's memory.
And I am more than prepared,
To take matters into my own hands...
To rekindle anything that may have laid dormant,
From lack of internal activity.
I do have my memories.
And all of them did not end,
With gratifying pleasantries.
I've been recaptured!
Not retooled.
Note:
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Battle of Omdurman
Ye Sons of Great Britain! come join with me
And King in praise of the gallant British Armie,
That behaved right manfully in the Soudan,
At the great battle of Omdurman.
'Twas in the year of 1898, and on the 2nd of September,
Which the Khalifa and his surviving followers will long remember,
Because Sir Herbert Kitchener has annihilated them outright,
By the British troops and Soudanese in the Omdurman fight.
The Sirdar and his Army left the camp in grand array,
And marched on to Omdurman without delay,
Just as the brigades had reached the crest adjoining the Nile,
And became engaged with the enemy in military style.
The Dervishes had re-formed under cover of a rocky eminence,
Which to them, no doubt, was a strong defence,
And they were massed together in battle array
Around the black standard of the Khalifa, which made a grand display.
But General Maxwell's Soudanese brigade seized the eminence in a short time,
And General Macdonald's brigade then joined the firing line;
And in ten minutes, long before the attack could be driven home,
The flower of the Khalifa's army was almost overthrown.
Still manfully the dusky warriors strove to make headway,
But the Soudanese troops and British swept them back without dismay,
And their main body were mown down by their deadly fire-
But still the heroic Dervishes refused to retire.
And defiantly they planted their standards and died by them,
To their honour be it said, just like brave men;
But at last they retired, with their hearts full of woe,
Leaving the field white with corpses, like a meadow dotted with snow.
The chief heroes in the fight were the 21st Lancers;
They made a brilliant charge on the enemy with ringing cheers,
And through the dusky warriors bodies their lances they did thrust,
Whereby many of them were made to lick the dust.
Then at a quarter past eleven the Sirdar sounded the advance,
And the remnant of the Dervishes fled, which was their only chance,
While the cavalry cut off their retreat while they ran;
Then the Sirdar, with the black standard of the Khalifa, headed for Omdurman.
And when the Khalifa saw his noble army cut down,
With rage and grief he did fret and frown;
Then he spurred his noble steed, and swiftly it ran,
While inwardly to himself he cried, "Catch me if you can!"
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poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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