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Despite recent media reports that have clouded, or even misrepresented, the facts, there is compelling evidence that al-Qaida and Iraq have been linked for more than a decade.

quote by Elizabeth Dole
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Misrepresented People

In 1492 you came upon these shores.
Seven hundred years, educated by the moors;
17th Century-- genocide and the gun
Middle Passage blessed to market the Africans.
In the so-called Land of God??
My kind were treated hard.
From back then until now
I see, and you agree--
We have been a misrepresented people.
From back then until now
Just see my family tree;
We have been a misrepresented people.
We have been a misrepresented people.
19th century-- slavery destroyed.
Soldiers who fought and won
Whats known as nigger-boys??.
20th century-- with freedom in my hand,
We invent ideas
Which helped us save a land,
But while I prayed to God
My moms and pops got whored.
From back then until now
Youll see our history;
We have been a misrepresented people.
From back then until now
Just see my family tree;
We have been a misrepresented people
Yes, we have been a misrepresented people.
1969-- Black power's at the door.
1982-- Hop-hop was on the floor.
1992-- Gangsta crack prevailed.
1999-- Our colors filled the jails.
It is through the grace of God
That we all were not scarred.
From back then until now
We see no comedy;
We have been a misrepresented people.
From back then until now
Were we still a mystery;
We have been a misrepresented people.
Yes, we have been a misrepresented people.
Though we march across time,
A sea of victories,
We have been a misrepresented people.
From back then until now
You know we made you grow;
We have been a misrepresented people.
We have been a misrepresented people.
From back then until now
We see our destiny

[...] Read more

song performed by Stevie Wonder
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Beating Around The Bush: A Foreign Policy

Saddam claimed to be greater
than Hitler and Nebuchadnezzar,
an ancient king of Babylon.

Saddam believed he would
build a Greater Empire than both,
beginning from modern Iraq.

This is the man Mr Bush!
Decided to let continue
to rule during his watch?

In 1979 Iraqi President Saddam Hussein
claimed he was a direct lineal descendant
of Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar II.

Saddam called himself Nebuchadnezzar III
had coins struck showing his likeness
coined with the Babylonian king on these coins.

The two likenesses proved to be! Uncannily similar!

In his memoirs George Herbert Bush
compared Saddam to Adolf Hitler!
Aspirations for Empire! Ambitions!
Ethnic Cleansing! Rule by Dictatorship!

[Chemical weapons, deportations!
Forced disappearances, Secret police!
Targeted assassinations, torture, murders!
Sounds like a resume of Adolf Hitler!
Yes Saddam was another Hitler wanta be! ]

[This is monster Mr Bush
decided to let continue
to rule during his watch? ]

Invasion and Annexation
Kuwait invaded by Iraqi!
August 2 1990!
Iraqi forces first bomb
Kuwait City terror tactics!

The Kuwaiti civilian capital
attacked by Iraqi commandos!
Deployed by helicopters boats
all airports two airbases seized!

Remember Invasion Kuwait?
Saddam’s Iraq-Kuwait War?

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Crosseyed & Painless

Lost my shape-trying to act casual!
Cant stop-i might end up in the hospital
Im changing my shape-i feel like an accident
Theyre back!-to explain their experience
Isnt it weird/looks too obscure to me
Wasting away/and that was their policy
Im ready to leave-i push the fact in front of me
Facts lost-facts are never what they seem to be
Nothing there!-no information left of any kind
Lifting my head-looking for danger signs
There was a line/there was a formula
Sharp as a knife/facts cut a hole in us
There was a line/there was a forula
Sharp as a knife/facts cut a hole in us
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
The feeling returns/whenever we close out eyes
Lifting my head/looking around inside
The island of doubt-its like the taste of medicine
Working by hindsight-got the message from the oxygen
Making a list-find the cost of opportunity
Doing it right-facts are useless in emergencies
The feeling returns/whenever we close out eyes
Lifting my head/looking around inside.
Facts are simple and facts are straight
Facts are lazy and facts are late
Facts all come with points of view
Facts dont do what I want them to
Facts just twist the truth around
Facts are living turned inside out
Facts are getting the best of them
Facts are nothing on the face of things
Facts dont stain the furniture
Facts go out and slam the door
Facts are written all over your face
Facts continue to change their shape
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...

song performed by Talking Heads
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Puzzling Evidence

You got the cbs...!
And the abc...!
You got time and newsweek!
Well, theyre the same to me!
Now dont you wanna get right with me?
(puzzling evidence)
I hope you get evrything you need
(puzzling evidence)
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence
Done hardened in your heart
Hardened in your heart.
...alright!u
Now I am the gun
And you are the bullet
I got the power and glory!
(puzzling)
And the money to buy it!
(puzzling)
Got your gulf and western and your mastercard
(puzzling evidence)
Got what you wanted, lost what you had
(puzzling evidence)
Im seeing
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence
Done hardened in your heart
Its hardened up your heart.
...alright!
Huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...u
Well, Im puzzling (huh!)
Im puzzling (huh!)
Im puzzling (huh!)
Puzzling (huh!)
Im puzzling (huh!)
Woo...Im puzzling (huh!)
Sometimes Im puzzling! (huh!)
See the little children! (puzzlin)
And the family! (puzzlin)
Gonna live together! (puzzlin)
Take them home with me! (puzzlin)
Well I hope youre happy with what youve made
(puzzling evidence)
In the land of the free and the home of the brave
(puzzling evidence)
Im seeing
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence

[...] Read more

song performed by Talking Heads
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Puzzlin' Evidence

You got the CBS...!
And the ABC...!
You got Time and Newsweek!
Well, they're the same to me!
Now don't you wanna get right with me?
(Puzzling Evidence)
I hope you get ev'rything you need
(Puzzling Evidence)
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence
Done hardened in your heart
Hardened in your heart.
...Alright!
Now I am the gun
And you are the bullet
I got the power and glory!
(Puzzling)
And the money to buy it!
(Puzzling)
Got your Gulf and Western and your MasterCard
(Puzzling Evidence)
Got what you wanted, lost what you had
(Puzzling Evidence)
I'm seeing
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence
Done hardened in your heart
It's hardened up your heart.
...alright!
Huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...
Well, I'm puzzling (Huh!)
I'm puzzling (Huh!)
I'm puzzling (Huh!)
Puzzling (Huh!)
I'm puzzling (Huh!)
Woo...I'm puzzling (Huh!)
Sometimes I'm puzzling! (Huh!)
See the little children! (Puzzlin')
And the family! (Puzzlin')
Gonna live together! (Puzzlin')
Take them home with me! (Puzzlin')
Well I hope you're happy with what you've made
(Puzzling Evidence)
In the land of the free and the home of the brave
(Puzzling Evidence)
I'm seeing
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence

[...] Read more

song performed by Talking Heads
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A Teaching Of The Facts Can Relax

Vulnerability when needed,
Can attract true love.
With a getting of some pity too.

A vulnerability when needed,
Can attract true love.
With a bit of innocence,
That can put one in the mood.

And when,
Facts of life are slow...
A teaching of the facts can relax.
A teaching of the facts,
Can get one to relax.

And when,
A nervousness sets in...
A teaching of the facts can relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.

And when,
Eyes begin to cry...
A teaching of the facts can relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.
A teaching of the facts can relax.

Vulnerability when needed,
Can attract true love.
With a teaching of the facts to relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.

A vulnerability when needed,
Can attract true love.
With a bit of innocence,
That can put one in the mood.

And when,
A nervousness sets in...
A teaching of the facts can relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.

And when,
Eyes begin to cry...
A teaching of the facts can relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Is Something Really Wrong About That

There's something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
There is something really wrong about that!
They're not based in truth of action.
Something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
Absent is the truth of action.
Nothing is said about that.

There is something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
There's something really wrong about that!
They're not based in truth of action.
Something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
Absent is the truth of action.
Nothing is said about that.

Truth has been manipulated.
Something is wrong about that!

And people now themselves they hate.
Something is wrong about that!

Racism is the indicator.
Something is wrong about that!

And how one lives is too debated.
Something is wrong about that!

There is something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
There's something really wrong about that!
They're not based in truth of action.
Something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
Absent is the truth of action.
Nothing is said about that.

We've all been underestimated.
Something is wrong about that!
The thoughts of people are degraded.
Something is wrong about that!
Deceivers seem too much elated.
Something is wrong about that!
And truth for us has been created...
With an ease that's made..

Oh there's something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Bald Eagle Has Broken The Geneva Convention

Only a monster could observe
naked suffering of concentration
extermination camps and not thank
God for liberation closing of this crime.

A crime inditing systematic political indifference
to a horrific crime perpetrated against humanity.

Only a monster could observe
calculated humiliation human rights
abuses torture violation of international
law Geneva Conventions and not pray closure.

International law for humanitarian treatment of
victims of war as 90% in Guantanamo proved to be.

Fact! The Geneva Convention agreements of 1949
negotiated in the aftermath of World War II updated
the terms of the first three treaties and added a fourth.

Fact! Articles defined the basic rights of those captured
during a military conflict, establishing protections for
the wounded, and addressing protections for civilians.

“The treaties of 1949 were ratified, in whole or with
reservations, by 194 countries” including the USA Mr Bush.

Placing Guantanamo outside the United States to avoid
violating American laws, while deliberately violating
international law, and Geneva Conventions, sends a strong

message to the free world; spelling out meaning of Bush
new world order, and foolish contempt of world opinion.
Arrogant is a word, reserved for illegal, fuel war in Iraq.

When deliberately targeting infrastructure, hospitals
electricity water schools, non-military targets, a word
for the wise. This does not win hearts and minds, but

individuals; communities, governments, nations
globally, observe infrastructure is deliberately
destroyed; selection fixed to suppress control demoralize.

Soon such policies Guantanamo abuses
are compared to a few little sentences
Mr Bush Pentagon staff should have read.

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Eternal Circle

Now, a visitor from somewhere right outside this Mundane Ball
Do not ask me where he came from, for that point's not clear at all;
For he might have been an angel, or he might have come from Mars,
Or from any of the other of the fixed or unfixed stars.
As regards his mental make-up he was much like you or me;
And he toured about the country, just to see what he could see.

Well, this superhuman person was of most inquiring mind,
And 'twas noted, from his questions, he was very far from blind,
And the striking thing about him was his stern, compelling eye,
That demanded Truth ungarbled when he paused for a reply.
And, despite the mental wriggles of the folk he interviewed,
When they placed the Truth before him she was ab-so-lutely nude.

At our Civilised Society he stared in some amaze,
As he muttered his equivalent for 'Gosh!' or 'Spare me days!'
For our cherished modes and customs knocked him sideways, so to speak.
'To solve,' said he, 'this mystery, now whither shall I seek?
For a sane and sound solution I must question those on high,'
Said this extra-mundane being with the stern, compelling eye.

Now, his methods were intelligent - I confess,
For he started with our Politics, religion and the Press.
Thus, he read a morning paper through, intently, ev'ry leaf,
Then hied him out to interview the editor-in-chief:
'They say that Truth lives in a well,' he muttered as he went;
'But her well is not an inkwell, I will lay my last lone cent.'

It chanced he found the editor unguarded and alone
At the office of the paper - 'twas the MORNING MEGAPHONE.
'Now, I take it,' said the visitor, 'you represent the Press,
That great Public Educator?' And the pressman murmured, 'Yes.'
'Yet in yesterday's edition I perceived a glaring lie!
How's this?' He fixed the pressman with his stern, compelling eye.

Then the editor he stammered, and the editor he 'hemmed'
And muttered things like 'Gracious me!' and likewise, 'Well, I'm demned!'
But the lady Truth came tripping, all undressed and unashamed;
'Oh, I own it!' cried the editor. 'But how can I be blamed?
There's our blighted advertisers and our readers - Spare my grief!
But we've got to please the public!' moaned the editor-in-chief.

'Now to interview a statesman and consider his reply,'
Said this strange Select Committee with the stern, compelling eye.
And the Honorable Member for Mud Flat he chanced to find
In a noble Spring-street building of a most palatial kind.
And the Honorable Member viewed his visitor with awe,
For he surely had the most compelling eye you ever saw.

'Now, then, tell me,' said the visitor; 'you are a man of State,

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Back To The Facts

From minds the chains are gone.
From minds the chains are gone.
From minds the chains are gone.
From minds the chains are gone.
And it's...
Back to the facts.
Back to unpack those facts,
Packed.
Back to the facts!
To dust them off and stack them tall.
Back to the facts...
To unwrap and stack.

Medieval evils,
No longer can be forced on people.
Walls are falling.
And used as steps for those who crawl.
To see life without limits,
With a higher consciousness.

And it's...
Back to the facts.
Back to unpack those facts,
Packed.
Back to the facts!
To dust them off and stack them tall.
Back to the facts...
To unwrap and stack.

Medieval evils,
From minds the chains are gone...
To keep the people,
From a...
Bouncing off the walls.

Medieval evils,
From minds the chains are gone...
To keep the people,
From a...
Bouncing off the walls.

And it's...
Back to the facts.
Back to unpack those facts,
Packed.
Back to the facts!
To dust them off and stack them tall.
Back to the facts...
To unwrap and stack.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Future Watch Burma To Syria Conflicts Rising

been watching
the future today...

from past lens astray

Burma as expected
has developed
ethnic problems

with sudden absence
of strict communist
dictatorship firm leash

Burmese are no longer
all brother communists
controlled by the state

past civic grievances
rise from postmortem
state of frozen stasis

past horrors play
on revenge rabid minds
need exercising?

past spectre struggles
post World War II conflicts
leave skeletons in closets

frozen nightmares divisions
war atrocities split Yugoslavia
post familiar communist thaw

emotively haunted people
seem to need to grim settle
past trauma before each

can move on embrace
future possibilities opportunities
in free market societies

when no longer linked
in brotherhood communist
cast iron citizenships

emotively many people
seem to need to settle
the past before they can

move on

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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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

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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IX. Juris Doctor Johannes-Baptista Bottinius, Fisci et Rev. Cam. Apostol. Advocatus

Had I God's leave, how I would alter things!
If I might read instead of print my speech,—
Ay, and enliven speech with many a flower
Refuses obstinate to blow in print,
As wildings planted in a prim parterre,—
This scurvy room were turned an immense hall;
Opposite, fifty judges in a row;
This side and that of me, for audience—Rome:
And, where yon window is, the Pope should hide—
Watch, curtained, but peep visibly enough.
A buzz of expectation! Through the crowd,
Jingling his chain and stumping with his staff,
Up comes an usher, louts him low, "The Court
"Requires the allocution of the Fisc!"
I rise, I bend, I look about me, pause
O'er the hushed multitude: I count—One, two—

Have ye seen, Judges, have ye, lights of law,—
When it may hap some painter, much in vogue
Throughout our city nutritive of arts,
Ye summon to a task shall test his worth,
And manufacture, as he knows and can,
A work may decorate a palace-wall,
Afford my lords their Holy Family,—
Hath it escaped the acumen of the Court
How such a painter sets himself to paint?
Suppose that Joseph, Mary and her Babe
A-journeying to Egypt, prove the piece:
Why, first he sedulously practiseth,
This painter,—girding loin and lighting lamp,—
On what may nourish eye, make facile hand;
Getteth him studies (styled by draughtsmen so)
From some assistant corpse of Jew or Turk
Or, haply, Molinist, he cuts and carves,—
This Luca or this Carlo or the like.
To him the bones their inmost secret yield,
Each notch and nodule signify their use:
On him the muscles turn, in triple tier,
And pleasantly entreat the entrusted man
"Familiarize thee with our play that lifts
"Thus, and thus lowers again, leg, arm and foot!"
—Ensuring due correctness in the nude.
Which done, is all done? Not a whit, ye know!
He,—to art's surface rising from her depth,—
If some flax-polled soft-bearded sire be found,
May simulate a Joseph, (happy chance!)—
Limneth exact each wrinkle of the brow,
Loseth no involution, cheek or chap,
Till lo, in black and white, the senior lives!
Is it a young and comely peasant-nurse

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CVII: Despite

Despite how many percent, it is still a thank you
Despite how ridiculous the sound, it is still a responsible
Despite how long the waiting, it is still a hope
Despite how fake the atmosphere, it is still a happiness
Despite how bad the luck, it is still a life
Despite how dim the light, it is still a fight
Despite how high the dignity, it is still a loss
Despite how fragile the peace, it is still a relief
Despite how tiny the defect, it is still an imperfect
Despite how sweet the benefit, it is still a lie
Despite how thin the sincerity, it is still a sorry

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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It Is Because Of The Media

'The media is the reason for our problems.
The media is the reason for our dysfunctions.
The media is the reason why there is conflict.
The media is the reason our kids are the way they are.
The media is the reason for racism and division.
The media is the reason why the economy is perceived,
To be knocking on death's door.
And it is because of the media our great country,
Has fallen into dire straits and has less educated citizens! '

That's a wrap, Sarah.
Very well done.
Now we do have you scheduled for that magazine shoot.
With you standing on the pier in common street clothes.
Very representative of the people.
As well as very clever.

Now...
Should we re-schedule the talk show for next week?
Or...
Should we keep it and move your appearance for the fund-raiser?
Since your announcement...
We have been overflooded with requests.

'What are the ratings for the talk show?
I want to know their demographics.
Also...
Do not schedule any of my activities around the playoffs.
Last year PBS refused to carry my message!
And it is important that my followers know how the media is used,
To manipulate their thinking process.

And that is the reason my campaign is important.
These are issues that must be prioritized...
And addressed!
IF we are going to move forward as a nation!
And get out of this mess!

Here are my questions to be asked,
By those selected reporters.
I need to freshen up before the press conference begins.
Make sure all cameras are placed behind,
Those who flew in from Hollywood.
They are filming a documentary...
To be used to solicit potential donors.
And I need as much as I can get,
To offset my travel expenses.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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XII. The Book and the Ring

Here were the end, had anything an end:
Thus, lit and launched, up and up roared and soared
A rocket, till the key o' the vault was reached,
And wide heaven held, a breathless minute-space,
In brilliant usurpature: thus caught spark,
Rushed to the height, and hung at full of fame
Over men's upturned faces, ghastly thence,
Our glaring Guido: now decline must be.
In its explosion, you have seen his act,
By my power—may-be, judged it by your own,—
Or composite as good orbs prove, or crammed
With worse ingredients than the Wormwood Star.
The act, over and ended, falls and fades:
What was once seen, grows what is now described,
Then talked of, told about, a tinge the less
In every fresh transmission; till it melts,
Trickles in silent orange or wan grey
Across our memory, dies and leaves all dark,
And presently we find the stars again.
Follow the main streaks, meditate the mode
Of brightness, how it hastes to blend with black!

After that February Twenty-Two,
Since our salvation, Sixteen-Ninety-Eight,
Of all reports that were, or may have been,
Concerning those the day killed or let live,
Four I count only. Take the first that comes.
A letter from a stranger, man of rank,
Venetian visitor at Rome,—who knows,
On what pretence of busy idleness?
Thus he begins on evening of that day.

"Here are we at our end of Carnival;
"Prodigious gaiety and monstrous mirth,
"And constant shift of entertaining show:
"With influx, from each quarter of the globe,
"Of strangers nowise wishful to be last
"I' the struggle for a good place presently
"When that befalls fate cannot long defer.
"The old Pope totters on the verge o' the grave:
"You see, Malpichi understood far more
"Than Tozzi how to treat the ailments: age,
"No question, renders these inveterate.
"Cardinal Spada, actual Minister,
"Is possible Pope; I wager on his head,
"Since those four entertainments of his niece
"Which set all Rome a-stare: Pope probably—
"Though Colloredo has his backers too,
"And San Cesario makes one doubt at times:
"Altieri will be Chamberlain at most.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Iraqi Freedom

They have brought Saddam to justice and handed freedom back
Or at least that is what you tell me to the people of Iraq
But i always thought that freedom included freedom to live free of fear
Whilst every day from Iraq of more deaths through violence we do hear.

If you think Iraq is such a great place to live in you should try living there
And with the basic freedoms that you now enjoy your notes you can compare
For you do not seem enlightened on matters of liberty
On your ideas of Iraq i for one could not agree.

And your ideas of freedom seem quite laughable to me
How can one even know of basic freedom if of fear one can't live free
You should spend your next holiday in Iraq with your wife and family
Otherwise your ideas of freedom i cannot take seriously.

When you talk of Iraqi freedom talk is cheap and words are easily said
The only news we hear from Iraq is of more Iraqi dead
As a holiday destination Iraq i would not recommend
Unless of course you are suicidal and you wish your life to end.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Island: Canto II.

I.
How pleasant were the songs of Toobonai,
When Summer's Sun went down the coral bay!
Come, let us to the islet's softest shade,
And hear the warbling birds I the damsels said:
The wood-dove from the forest depth shall coo,
Like voices of the Gods from Bolotoo;
We'll cull the flowers that grow above the dead,
For these most bloom where rests the warrior's head;
And we will sit in Twilight's face, and see
The sweet Moon glancing through the Tooa tree, to
The lofty accents of whose sighing bough
Shall sadly please us as we lean below;
Or climb the steep, and view the surf in vain
Wrestle with rocky giants o'er the main,
Which spurn in columns back the baffled spray.
How beautiful are these! how happy they,
Who, from the toil and tumult of their lives,
Steal to look down where nought but Ocean strives!
Even He too loves at times the blue lagoon,
And smooths his ruffled mane beneath the Moon.

II.
Yes-from the sepulchre we'll gather flowers,
Then feast like spirits in their promised bowers,
Then plunge and revel in the rolling surf
Then lay our limbs along the tender turf,
And, wet and shining from the sportive toil,
Anoint our bodies with the fragrant oil,
And plait our garlands gathered from the grave,
And wear the wreaths that sprung from out the brave.
But lo I night comes, the Mooa woos us back,
The sound of mats are heard along our track;
Anon the torchlight dance shall fling its sheen
In flashing mazes o'er the Marly's green;
And we too will be there; we too recall
The memory bright with many a festival,
Ere Fiji blew the shell of war, when foes
For the first time were wafted in canoes.
Alas! for them the flower of manhood bleeds;
Alas! for them our fields are rank with, weeds:
Forgotten is the rapture, or unknown,
Of wandering with the Moon and Love alone.
But be it so:-they taught us how to wield
The club, and rain our arrows o'er the field:
Now let them reap the harvest of their art!
But feast to-night! to-morrow we depart.
Strike up the dance! the Cava bowl fill high!
Drain every drop!-to-morrow we may die.
In summer garments be our limbs arrayed;

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poem by Byron
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Not at a Loss Chord - after Adelaide Anne Procter – A Lost Chord

Not at a Loss Chord

Playing one day with my organ,
I was blissful – not ill at ease -
while five fingers wandered wildly
web-cams recording each wheeze.

I know the spot vibrating,
less what I was dreaming then,
but I strummed with both will and spirit
and an “Oh My God! Amen! ”

Adrenaline flowed not vainly
from heart to crimson palm,
as it coursed both veins and spirit
with little akin to calm.

It quieted pain and sorrow,
like love overcoming strife;
it seem[en]ed orgasmic echo
to tune discordant life.

It linked all perplexèd meanings
into one perfect peace,
and trembled away into silence
although I was loth to cease.

I have sought, and I seek not vainly,
that one G spot divine,
which linked my soul to the organ
so manifestly mine.

La petite morte delightful
strikes shivering molten core,
as this little verse insightful
calls for en corps encore!

It may be that Death's bright angel
will speak in that chord again,
for it’s surely in seventh Heaven
one sings “Oh My God! Amen! ”

Parody Adelaide Anne PROCTER – A Lost Chord
8 April 2007

ROBIN Jonathan 1947_2006 robi3_1338_proc1_0001 PXY_MXX Not at a Loss Chord_Playing one day with my organ
A Lost Chord

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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He's Been Linked

He's been linked.
And that is all they care and think about.
It's on their minds and whispering lips.
Another scorching juicy scandal...
Hot and sizzling,
With ascorbic, tantalizing and tingling gossip.

Ohhhh he's been linked!
'No! '
Yes.
To drugs and freaky sex.
His steps are followed,
And when he belches...
They stare to see what else is done next!

He's been linked.
'Mmmm...'
To nasty trash and gripping slime!
And they who spy on his every move...
With wishes to get closer,
To rub and pinch his tight behind!

This mass of muscle has been linked!

'No...
Someone lies on our idol! '

And he wont be left alone.
He symbolizes heated...
And loose testosterone.
All men and women secretly dream,
To cream and fondle his bone!

He's been linked!
And he laughs to himself,
As he sinks comfortably...
In his plush leather chair.
Feeling at peace,
And having a cup of tea to drink!
Wishing he too had been there to be aware...
That he has been linked!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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