First Encounter - Datuk Shake
still the
numbing question
did i let him down?
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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13 Question Method
(chuck berry)
Now, the thirteen question method is the one to use
Listen to me!
Thirteen question method is the one to use
Im saying that the thirteen question method is the one you gotta use
If you wanna have some fun
cause the thirteen question method is the one to use
Uhn!
Question number one: you wanna have fun, uh hun
Question number two: what to do ?
Lets see!
Question number three: wanna go out and eat burger with me ?
God almighty!
For the thirteen question method is the one to use
Now the question number five: dont give me no jive this morning
Question number six: dont try no tricks, this evening
Question number seven: Ill pick you up at a quarter to eleven, baby
And question number eight: its a date
Thats question number nine: where to dine, this evening ?
Question number ten: ah, can we get in ?
Question number eleven: gonna be just like heaven ?
God almighty!
Question number twelve: we get by ourselves ?
cause the thirteen question method is the one to use
The thirteen question method is the one to use
Now the thirteen question method is the one gotta use if you wanna...
The thirteen question method is the one to use
And she says ah...
She says...
The thirteen question method is the one to use
The thirteen question method is the one to use
Now the thirteen question method is the one gotta use if you wanna have some fun
cause the...
song performed by Ry Cooder
Added by Lucian Velea
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In Love With The Queen
Wonders, wonders down the drain
Numbing, numbing of my pain
Drowning, sinking battleships at bay
Electing, Crowning a queen for a new day
Beauty! Beauty! She's your craft! What's her name?
I fought for her! Give me glory, give me blame!
Purple, Purple. Her dress and my bruises
It's a shame, shame for anyone who loses
Conscience, Conscience. You've been so soft, You've been so tough
A victory kiss from divine right would suffice, would be enough
Rejoice! Rejoice! Royalty is yours
The kind of battle heard only in lores
Impetus! Impetus! She my driving force, she's my strength
Near or far I'm prepared to travel any length (for her)
Confetti, Confetti fills the ceremony air-
Through the jubilance and smoke, I see and feel her stare
Oh she does wonders! Wonders for my brain
Numbing, numbing what I once knew as pain
Purple, Purple her engagement ring and her dress
There's no shame, shame that I used to be a mess
Glory! Glory! Once a princess now my queen
Believe me, trust me. You know everyword I mean.
I love you
poem by Peter Yanez
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Interlude: The Casement
Once, when the sun-burst flew
its banner above broad seas and eastern hills,
my casement knew
that morning in her wondrous isle of youth distils
perpetual balm, and tidings trumpeted
of Eden air
winsome and quick, round many a wilding grace, unwed,
clad only in glad hair,
bade fancy soar
far and aloft along that limitless ecstasy
of crystal, towards some shore
where life were crown'd amidst a halcyon sea.
Now — desolate, despairful (lamentable retreat!
wreck'd wheels and spars!),
streaming from irresistible defeat
the broken field of stars:
and all our hope they bore, the appointed word
and that unbroken song
that should resolve our suffering dark in peace, deferr'd
— how long?
The window is wide and lo! beyond its bars
dim fields of fading stars
and cavern tracts, whence the great store of tears
that Beauty all the years
hath wept in wanderings of the eyeless dark,
remembering the long cark
whereunder we, her care, are silent bow'd,
invades with numbing shroud
this dwindling realm of listless avatars.
Dim fields of fading stars,
and shall yet ye with amaranth rapture burn
and maiden grace return
sprung soft and sudden on the fainting night,
rose passioning to white;
or must our task remain and hopeless art
that sickeneth the heart
from yon dull embers to evoke the ghost
of the first garden lost,
sad necromancers we? Then let the blast,
that waked you ancient, cast
into the deeps your useless lagging dearth,
O blazon'd shame of Earth,
who then might hail the last oblivion,
knowing you doomward blown
before the advance of night's relentless cars,
dim fields of fading stars!
40-'O white wind, numbing the world'
[...] Read more
poem by Christopher John Brennan
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Lara. A Tale
The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain,
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord--
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.
II.
The chief of Lara is return'd again:
And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?
Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,
Lord of himself;--that heritage of woe,
That fearful empire which the human breast
But holds to rob the heart within of rest!--
With none to check, and few to point in time
The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;
Then, when he most required commandment, then
Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.
It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace
His youth through all the mazes of its race;
Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.
III.
And Lara left in youth his fatherland;
But from the hour he waved his parting hand
Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all
Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.
His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,
'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;
Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew
Cold in the many, anxious in the few.
His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,
His portrait darkens in its fading frame,
Another chief consoled his destined bride,
The young forgot him, and the old had died;
'Yet doth he live!' exclaims the impatient heir,
And sighs for sables which he must not wear.
A hundred scutcheons deck with gloomy grace
The Laras' last and longest dwelling-place;
But one is absent from the mouldering file,
That now were welcome to that Gothic pile.
IV.
He comes at last in sudden loneliness,
And whence they know not, why they need not guess;
[...] Read more
The Corsair
'O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our soul's as free
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limits to their sway-
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Ours the wild life in tumult still to range
From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave!
Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave;
Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease!
whom slumber soothes not - pleasure cannot please -
Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried,
And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide,
The exulting sense - the pulse's maddening play,
That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?
That for itself can woo the approaching fight,
And turn what some deem danger to delight;
That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal,
And where the feebler faint can only feel -
Feel - to the rising bosom's inmost core,
Its hope awaken and Its spirit soar?
No dread of death if with us die our foes -
Save that it seems even duller than repose:
Come when it will - we snatch the life of life -
When lost - what recks it but disease or strife?
Let him who crawls enamour'd of decay,
Cling to his couch, and sicken years away:
Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head;
Ours - the fresh turf; and not the feverish bed.
While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul,
Ours with one pang - one bound - escapes control.
His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave,
And they who loath'd his life may gild his grave:
Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed,
When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead.
For us, even banquets fond regret supply
In the red cup that crowns our memory;
And the brief epitaph in danger's day,
When those who win at length divide the prey,
And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each brow,
How had the brave who fell exulted now!'
II.
Such were the notes that from the Pirate's isle
Around the kindling watch-fire rang the while:
Such were the sounds that thrill'd the rocks along,
And unto ears as rugged seem'd a song!
In scatter'd groups upon the golden sand,
They game-carouse-converse-or whet the brand:
[...] Read more
Lara
LARA. [1]
CANTO THE FIRST.
I.
The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain, [2]
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord —
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.
II.
The chief of Lara is return'd again:
And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?
Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,
Lord of himself; — that heritage of woe,
That fearful empire which the human breast
But holds to rob the heart within of rest! —
With none to check, and few to point in time
The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;
Then, when he most required commandment, then
Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.
It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace
His youth through all the mazes of its race;
Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.
III.
And Lara left in youth his fatherland;
But from the hour he waved his parting hand
Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all
Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.
His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,
'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;
Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew
Cold in the many, anxious in the few.
His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,
His portrait darkens in its fading frame,
Another chief consoled his destined bride,
The young forgot him, and the old had died;
"Yet doth he live!" exclaims the impatient heir,
And sighs for sables which he must not wear.
[...] Read more
The life or death question
You could guess from the crowd
converging on the Memorial Hall
and on a Saturday night, that
the speaker must be world-famed in his field,
making his first visit to the college.
A French scientist of renown –
cognitive theory or some such –
turned Buddhist monk these thirty, forty years,
he carried the blessing and the curse,
the burden of responsibility not only of his vocation
but his fame. The hall was packed.
Serene – ‘together’ has to be the word –
he spoke for an hour; enthusiastic applause;
then question time.
There’s always that tense silence before
the first question…how will
the hall respond tonight? Will it hold the level
of the speaker’s mind? …we knew all too well
those ‘first question’ students – the one
who had to wrap a compliment in
confectioner’s sugar, eliciting an inward groan –
as if the speaker were unaware of his own ability...
she’d marry rich, then live a life of patronising
complacency bestowing well-publicised charity…
or the one whose ‘clever’ question blatantly advertised
to whoever might be impressed, beyond herself,
that she was already on the speaker’s wavelength
before the lecture and before the rest of us…
she’d commit herself to a future academic life
of maintaining this self-superiority,
exhausting herself, losing friends and influencing few…
but no – tonight it was that wild and self-abusive student
who seldom attended any lecture except to challenge –
‘Can you give me one single reason
why I should go on living? ’..
You could have heard a cliché drop..
a pin; a paperclip; but loud, the universal thought –
how could the speaker know, this was the brilliant boy
of already three serious suicide attempts…
representative of the rite of passage greatly magnified,
sex, drugs, rocknroll, and whatever lay beyond…
‘No… I cannot…’
[...] Read more
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Oh So Simple Question
I have a question
I have a simple thought
I am the border obsession
I am the clever, the taught
You have my aggression
You have a complication
You are an angry expression
You are the unheard conversation
We have a serious problem
Something simple yet trying
You understand, you look solemn
You know exactly what question I’m implying
Now concentrate, ask it now
Your eyes beg not to be told
Tell it now, but tell it how?
How to tell this question I hold
Wait! Look at your eyes
Now desperate to know
The question I hide
The question I knew not long ago
NO! I no longer remember
The simple question I wanted to ask
That cold day, in that snowy December
Oh how I hate this shy mask
Maybe I will once again
Think of a simple question
Whilst I walk down memory lane
Maybe, one day, you will hear my confession
poem by Rebecca Pepper
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Sweetness
If you're listening.
Sing it back.
String from your tether unwinds.
Up and outward (but only) to bind.
I was spinning free with a little sweet and simple numbing me.
Are you listening?
Sing it back.
So tell me what do I need when the words lose their meaning.
I was spinning free with a little sweet and simple numbing me.
Yeah
song performed by Jimmy Eat World from Bleed American
Added by Lucian Velea
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And I thought about the psychic numbing involved in strategic projections of using hydrogen bombs or nuclear weapons of any kind. And I also thought about ways in which all of us undergo what could be called the numbing of everyday life.
quote by Robert Jay Lifton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Empathized But Sits
The buildup.
The hype.
The failure of it.
And the expense...
A numbing pain,
Does not admit!
A sorrow,
Empathized but sits.
In reflection,
Making sense of it!
But no sense of it...
Comes to soothe!
The buildup.
The hype.
The failure of it.
And the expense...
A numbing pain,
Does not admit!
A sorrow,
Empathized...
But sits.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Over The Edge
I had eyes but I could not see, I hurt everybody who believed in me
I had it all but I lost the key, oh
I saw the world through fogged-up glasses, like some lothario making passes
I showed the world just what an ass is, oh
I was over the edge, I was always out of my head
Trouble in paradise, treadin on the thinnest ice
Oh-oh, over the edge, I wouldnt listen to what anybody said
Cuttin with a razor blade, spendin every cent I made
Over the edge
I dreamed of standin on my own two feet
My fists held high and I clenched my teeth
But Id wake up to the same old me, oh
I was living a lie, but you brought me truth
Afraid to cry, but you taught me to
You stood beside me, now Ill stand by you, oh
I was over the edge, I was always out of my head
I wasnt foolin anyone, playin with a loaded gun
Oh-oh, over the edge, I wouldnt listen to what anybody said
I was numbing all the pain, you taught me how to feel again
(solo)
If I had died, it would have been a shame
Theyd have said he only had himself to blame
You saved my life when you called my name, oh
I was over the edge, I was always out of my head
I was numbing all the pain, you showed me how to feel again
Oh-oh, over the edge, I wouldnt listen to what anybody said
When you looked me in the eyes, you finally made me recognize
Oh-oh, over the edge (repeats 4x)
song performed by Reo Speedwagon
Added by Lucian Velea
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From Epidermal Taxidermy to Internal Epiphany
FROM EPIDERMAL TAXIDERMY TO INTERNAL EPIPHANY
Portrait of fair mind is neither, nor!
neither mastered nor in pieces shred,
displayed to touring tourists - Turrell's bore -
whose dreams no themes of genius hint ahead.
Could paint drip down to mop pain's vail of tears,
unveiling pooled oasis to exchange,
past wraith, fresh faith to grace remaining years,
then fears would fade before excitement strange.
From monochrome to rainbow glow display
“we are such stuff as dreams are made of” shows,
no lifeless stuffing, feathers drooping, fray;
vitality surpasses surface glows
to put to shame greyed taxidermist’s skills
forever fixed in time: true talent spills.
True talent overflows as curiousity
channels potential, recent acquisitions,
to harness latent energy, to free
flame burning to encounter twin shared visions.
Gold courage holds no secrets for fair muse
whose darker shades may by Miss, understood,
misunderstandings sweep away to choose
hues better read, refusing mirage wood.
If one would ink fresh portrait of fair mind
contact’s impact could do it justice true,
where words match deeds indeed, feed surge behind
layered lines to tempt that talent through.
No taxidermist’s trophy, prized possession,
pro-active win/win casts out sin, transgression.
Shared view should sunshine through tune-blended flow
to filter out, to mend, doubt’s daunting pain,
suspend in amber all imbroglio
freeing focus, tender trust sustain.
Bottled up desire too well preserves
formaldehyde-postponed screw-cap allure,
throttles interaction, tires, reserves
soul’s parking place, secure in sinecure.
Restraints life paints can’t canvas open urge,
anticipate emotions strong, long stored
in hibernation waiting to emerge,
eager for adventures unexplored.
Suspended animation soul-song cheats
with taxidermist version of heart’s beats.
Could luck alight tonight and somehow show
new way to leech frustration numbing brain,
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Some Who Came Brought Their Assumptions
There was a meeting at the junction.
Some who came brought their assumptions,
And expressed gumptions malfunctioned...
With a numbing of tongues,
Leaving a spewing undone.
There was no spitting of a bitterness.
Some who came to do it,
Had been tamed and dissed.
What has happened overnight,
Has had an affect on their brains.
With a wished conflict now seen remissed.
Expected were some frowning lips.
And signs of that some said they missed.
But something in the air has been changed.
Everyone seemed quite sane.
With a peace maintained.
There was a meeting at the junction.
Some who came brought their assumptions,
And expressed gumptions malfunctioned...
With a numbing of tongues,
Leaving a spewing undone.
There was no spitting of a bitterness.
Some who came to do it,
Had been tamed and dissed.
With a wished conflict now seen remissed.
And the shaking of hands.
Without lifted balled fists.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Being everything else than me
it seems like family don't know who i am,
it's like they see that i changed,
they just don't like where i'm headed,
to me it feels normal,
almost like a little too normal,
a part of me feels like i'm heading down,
a simlar past that i don't like where it ended,
but totally different situation,
it feels like i'm not being truely who i am,
when i'm with a guy,
i put that mask on,
and i seem to be the girl,
they want me to be,
either way i still do my things,
to push people away,
i say things i know they don't like to hear,
i do things i know i don't like,
my actions are only based off of,
what i know that person would like,
i'm not doing anything that makes me truely happy,
i'm still doing what makes other people happy,
and i'm the one suffering from it,
no matter how i say my abuse didn't hurt me much,
the more it shows in everything i do,
i just been in denial to see it,
it's a believe that,
if you not numbing your body in an unhealthy way,
it not really called 'numbing'
if you can't recall what you doing,
until somebody points it out,
it only shows,
how deep in your denial,
you really was.
poem by Mona Martinez
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Insect Assassins
Injects no survive. Efforts control the
Animal survive. Survive. Animal survive. Survive. Injects no survive.
In nasty spitting eye cost. This
Assassin spitting spitting assassin spitting spitting in nasty spitting
Insectivorous nutriment species encounter Charles to
Are species species are species species insectivorous nutriment species
Into notoriety. Sweeping eastern capture testimony
As sweeping sweeping as sweeping sweeping into
notoriety. Sweeping
Interest nervous succumb easily: composed tube
Adhesive succumb succumb adhesive succumb succumb interest
nervous succumb
It near spider East closes thorax.
And spider spider and spider spider it near spider
Its needle. Specialized enlarged? Cutting tough
A specialized specialized a specialized specialized its needle.
Specialized
Is nontoxic secretion extremely contains that
Assassin-bug secretion secretion assassin-bug secretion secretion
is nontoxic secretion
I needle-like snake. Enzymes compound TENDON
ANCHORING snake, snake, ANCHORING snake, snake, I
needle-like snake,
INLET not significant, effect cockroach. Thus
About significant, significant, about significant, significant,
INLET not significant,
Insect "natural" surround enzyme constituents time
After surround surround after surround surround insect "natural"
surround
Internal nerve. Sucks especially contents through.
Against sucks sucks. Against sucks sucks. Internal nerve. Sucks
Immediate now share extinguishing controlling them.
Arises: share share arises: share share immediate now share
Insecticide? Needs. Sap; episode. Cimicidae thoroughly
Attributed sap; sap; attributed sap; sap; insecticide? Needs. Sap;
Insects numbing seconds. Each channels. They.
[...] Read more
poem by Jackson Mac Low
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Question
Looking for question: have you got one?
Hungry for question: will you give one?
Looking for question
O Yeah
Looking for question
Because
God gives the answer.
God gives the answer
In so many ways!
That’s why
Looking for question
O Yeah
Searching for question.
poem by Asif Andalib
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His Answer To My Question Was A Question
His answer to my question
Was a question
My answer to his reply
Was returned
With another question
The game of
Answering and asking
Questions
Did not end
Till I questioned
The very motive
Of our conversation
We came to the conclusion
How to pass time?
Was the biggest question
Asking questions
And creating confusion
Was the answer
So we passed our time
Asking and answering questions
The question now is
Whether we did right or wrong?
The answer is
Why ask a useless question?
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Question Meaning
The meaning of the question
Is to always question meaning,
The meaning of life,
And the life of meaning.
The life unquestioned
Means very little,
Just as a life left meaningless,
Without question, has very little life.
Therefore, we all should daily question
The meaning of life,
By doing so, life's Meaning
Will unquestionably, each day, find us.
Remember: we are free to question meaning;
May we become free enough to
Let it freely question us.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Telephone Conversation
Wednesday, January 23,2008
Week 10: Telephone Conversation by Wole Soyinka
Week 10 Dividing lines: Differences in Class, race, Gender and Ideology
Telephone Conversation
by Wole Soyinka
The price seemed reasonable, location
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self-confession. 'Madam, ' I warned,
'I hate a wasted journey—I am African.'
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,
Lipstick coated, long gold rolled
Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.
'HOW DARK? '... I had not misheard... 'ARE YOU LIGHT
OR VERY DARK? ' Button B, Button A.* Stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis-
'ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT? ' Revelation came.
'You mean-like plain or milk chocolate? '
Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,
I chose. 'West African sepia'-and as afterthought,
'Down in my passport.' Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. 'WHAT'S THAT? ' conceding
'DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS.' 'Like brunette.'
'THAT'S DARK, ISN'T IT? ' 'Not altogether.
Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused-
[...] Read more
poem by Tamilarasi Shalu
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