Tax assessment rapes
all of value - only one's
memory escapes.
haiku by Jonathan Robin (05 June 2005)
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The Final Tax
Said Statesman A to Statesman Z:
'What can we tax that is not paying?
We’re taxing every blessed thing—
Here’s what our people are defraying:
'Tariff tax, income tax,
Tax on retail sales,
Club tax, school tax,
Tax on beers and ales,
'City tax, county tax,
Tax on obligations,
War tax. wine tax,
Tax on corporations,
'Brewer tax, sewer tax,
Tax on motor cars,
Bond tax, stock tax,
Tax on liquor bars,
'Bridge tax, check tax,
Tax on drugs and pills,
Gas tax, ticket tax,
Tax on gifts in wills,
'Poll tax, dog tax,
Tax on money loaned,
State tax, road tax,
Tax on all things owned,
'Stamp tax, land tax,
Tax on wedding ring,
High tax, low tax,
Tax on everything!'
Said Statesman A to Statesman Z:
'That is the list, a pretty bevy;
No thing or act that is untaxed;
There’s nothing more on which to levy.'
Said Statesman Z to Statesman A:
'The deficit each moment waxes;
This is no time for us to fail—
We will decree a tax on taxes.'
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Tax the Love
Oh Politicians!
you are now thinking to levy “Flush Tax”,
In future, you may tax even our earwax…
Instead,
Tax those, who fall in love
Tax those, who fall out of love
Tax those, who search for love
Tax those, who crave for love
Tax those, who love to love
Tax those, who hate to love
Tax those, who glorify the love
Tax those, who vilify the love
Tax those, who read about love
Tax those, who write about love
Tax those, who comment about love
And your coffers will be
overflowed with dough
In a one go...
For,
It is not the elusive dark matter that keeps
universe falling apart,
But the mysterious love that
stays in every human’s heart.
So,
Tax the love
fill your trove.
poem by Hitesh Sheth (2009)
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Cigarettes
Pack it up cigarettes on the counter.carrying the governer of california
And still they want the money , still they want the tax
Still they want the money still they want the tax
Why not take paper courancy and lighten up and lower the contents
And the p-p-puff
Then you could keep the money you could keep the tax.
You could keep the money you could keep the tax
Fields raisen, growin tobacco
Could be used to feed a third world country.
This is the age of democracy
Everybody's saying : vote for me...vote for me
Blind leader leading the blind
The cheaters and the cheaters who were always kind.
And still theywant the money , still they want the tax
still theywant the money , still they want the tax
THe tax
the tax
the tax
still theywant the money , still they want the tax
still theywant the money , still they want the tax
still theywant the money , still they want the tax
But the biggest serial killer is a heart attack
etc.
song performed by X-Ray Spex
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Am In Total Agreement With Your Assessment
I am in total agreement with your assessment.
It is difficult to live with limited funds.
Budgeting to pay for shelter, food and utilities.
I am in total agreement with your assessment.
It is difficult to witness others live being deprived.
While their lives are being ignored.
And/or exploited in a hussle to keep them needy.
I am in total agreement with your assessment.
So many now are forced to descend from high horses.
And getting a taste for the first time,
How life is lived without good credit scores.
Or multiple opportunities coming to knock at their doors.
I am in total agreement with your assessment.
Very few are not so quick to pass judgement these days.
And knowing from my own experience...
How to remove myself from someone stunned.
Learning they too have become shunned and 'thumbed'
By the very same ones they supported,
At the expense of their own inhumanity.
I am in total agreement with your assessment.
But do not believe,
I am here empathetic and prepared to embrace your pain.
I've already been numbed by your reaction to mine.
I see nothing in that to aid my benefit with gain.
Like I said...
I am in total agreement with your assessment.
It is so vivid.
As if I'm still living it with too much acceptance.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Slickens
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
HAYSEED _a Granger_
NOZZLE _a Miner_
RINGDIVVY _a Statesman_
FEEGOBBLE _a Lawyer_
JUNKET _a Committee_
_Scene_-Yuba Dam.
_Feegobble, Ringdivvy, Nozzle_.
NOZZLE:
My friends, since '51 I have pursued
The evil tenor of my watery way,
Removing hills as by an act of faith
RINGDIVVY:
Just so; the steadfast faith of those who hold,
In foreign lands beyond the Eastern sea,
The shares in your concern-a simple, blind,
Unreasoning belief in dividends,
Still stimulated by assessments which,
When the skies fall, ensnaring all the larks,
Will bring, no doubt, a very great return.
ALL (_singing_):
O the beautiful assessment,
The exquisite assessment,
The regular assessment,
That makes the water flow.
RINGDIVVY:
The rascally-assessment!
FEEGOBBLE:
The murderous assessment!
NOZZLE:
The glorious assessment
That makes my mare to go!
FEEGOBBLE:
[...] Read more
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Wat Tyler - Act I
ACT I.
SCENE, A BLACKSMITH'S-SHOP
Wat Tyler at work within. A May-pole
before the Door.
ALICE, PIERS, &c.
SONG.
CHEERFUL on this holiday,
Welcome we the merry May.
On ev'ry sunny hillock spread,
The pale primrose rears her head;
Rich with sweets the western gale
Sweeps along the cowslip'd dale.
Every bank with violets gay,
Smiles to welcome in the May.
The linnet from the budding grove,
Chirps her vernal song of love.
The copse resounds the throstle's notes,
On each wild gale sweet music floats;
And melody from every spray,
Welcomes in the merry May.
Cheerful on this holiday,
Welcome we the merry May.
[Dance.
During the Dance, Tyler lays down his
Hammer, and sits mournfully down before
his Door.
[To him.
HOB CARTER.
Why so sad, neighbour?—do not these gay sports,
This revelry of youth, recall the days
When we too mingled in the revelry;
And lightly tripping in the morris dance
Welcomed the merry month?
TYLER.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Southey
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Making Love With Memories
You poked my blurring eye,
Let me lift your mushy breast.
We aged onwards
While you stroked flaccidity –
Recalling decades of
Blood-gorged coming, shuddering to boot.
I kissed a venerable mouth
Crammed with falsities –
Once brilliant keys
Guarded by crimson lips
Washed by a sensual tongue.
And so we writhed in wrinkles,
Tiring effort, and
Memories.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
[...] Read more
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Cellophane Spirit: Improvisation 10 19 2004
Old men have seen a memory blown by sleeping,
wails of grief kisses sucked up excavated noses
soul stirring psalms to the very top of the lung
energy boasts of a golden but feared recall, I
have seen the fingering of Miles Davis’ trumpet
wail of sex instincts on Stella by Starlight sung
Jesus looking for guileless disciples in the gilded
night I have seen a memory, driven by alleys of
Georgetown fences, noted gentries out-of-the-way
welcome entries, walked to mama’s down at the
very end of towns, P Street’s dead turn onto the
Avenue of murderer’s row in a town’s strip of
social clubs, I have walked sidewalk storm drains
from stoops of filth down to Main & Baltimore
streets, I have seen memory collect in the smaller
towns of Shelbyville, Indiana, Kentucky, Ohio,
Tennessee, and Springfield, Illinois, cellophane
swathes the memory, what’s known of selected
service towns, soldiers never coming home,
where divine earth gardens of herbs, salts, and
sugary loves are grown, I have seen a memory
stripped off every language, a cappella chanting
of soliloquists, ritual Griot and orphaned rappers
of cellophane spirit; porno on sheets of exhibited
joy, I have seen a memory cruising the boulevards
to The Louver and the mall to The Smithsonian, got
down with nightfall song on Martin Luther King Jr.
Avenues with whores pimps of priest and mothers,
LEE MACK
(Cellophane Spirit, Page 2)
memory eyes that burn high with desire set afire
the fricative nature of her cellophane spirit,
I have seen a memory of towns of orphaned sons
bound for locomotive dreams there in old houses on
Rose Street, Spanish laborers now rent overcrowded
dream Tudor houses, mansions of memories now city
neighbors with funeral homes where strange crowds
gather in games of wake, I have seen a memory
for the dead a picnic and a park of spirits set aside
in stone, strange crowds in games of joy a girl’s legs
too young consent to cellophane; raps disown me,
[...] Read more
poem by Lee B. Mack
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Dubai Tax Free... Irony
why expats are
here?
tax free
what is tax?
tax is a limitation
on liberty
then dubai wages are tax free
therefore expats are here
tax free
where is the irony?
tax limits liberty
and there is free-tax in Dubai
in an absolute monarchy
and
why Filipinos
work here?
escape from Philippine tax fees
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
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Taxman
(this ones called: taxman)
(one, two, three, four, one two)
Let me tell you how it will be
Theres one for you, nineteen for me
cause Im the taxman
Yeah, Im the taxman
Should five percent appear too small
Be thankful I dont take it all
cause Im the taxman
Yeah, Im the taxman
(if you drive a car car) Ill tax the street
(if you try to sit sit) Ill tax your seat
(if you get too cold cold) Ill tax the heat
(if you take a walk walk) Ill tax your feet
Taxman!
cause Im the taxman
Yeah, Im the taxman
Dont ask me what I want it for
(ah, ah, mr. major)
If you dont want to pay some more
(ah, ah, mr. [..])
cause Im the taxman
Yeah, Im the taxman
If I reduce it, can you sleep
(ah, ah, boris yeltzin)
Get back [..] v.a.t.
(ah, ah, mr. bush)
cause Im the taxman
Yeah, Im the taxman
If you get a hat hat, Ill tax your hat
If you get a cat cat, Ill tax your cat
If you wipe your feet feet, Ill tax your mat
If you walk away away, Ill tax your [..]
Now my advise to those who die
(taxman!)
Declare the pennies on your eyes
(taxman!)
cause Im the taxman
Yeah, Im the taxman.
And youre working for no one, but me
(taxman!)
Yes, Im the taxman
Yeah, Im the taxman
song performed by George Harrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tax
Tax is for the welfare of the masses
That’s why more tax should levied
Upon the rich than the poor
In such a manner
So that a desired balance is maintained.
There should be no filthy rich
In a poor country
So the government should impose tax
On this people couple of times more
Than the ordinary rich.
Education tax, poverty elimination tax
And tax to rehabilitate the beggars
Can be imposed on the very rich.
The government must go for moderate tax
For the poor people
And they should not slaughter the hen
That lays egg of gold.
The Muslims should give tax properly
Since it is obligatory for them
So in a Muslim country
The government should highlight this
In order to increase revenue.
poem by Asif Andalib
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YOUR MEMORY [by Redscar McOdindo K'Oyuga & Muna Moons Ahmed]
YOUR MEMORY
[by Redscar McOdindo K’Oyuga & Muna Moons Ahmed]
Redscar McOdindo:
I’ve tried to forget your cultures
I’ve taken down all of your pictures
I’ve even changed my manners
And tried to get yet another missus…
I’ve cleaned out all of your drawers
I’ve painted over the scratches
From all our little wars
But it has never been a savory
To erase your memory.
Muna Moons:
I live beyond earthly possessions
I, I am your emotions
We have lost directions
Trying to conform to different directions.
You, you come in to ease these confusions
But we are lost. Are we lost in institutions?
Baseless yet holding on to unique fusions?
Redscar McOdindo:
Since you left
I’ve acted swift
To wander away adrift
And widen the rift
Between you and me….
Too hard has it been to shift
But I’ve put away every gift
That you ever gave to me –
Including your flowers and their vase –
And now everything is in its place
Except for one quandary:
Your Memory.
Muna Moons:
Honey, the flower dried
And the vase was then deprived
But its memory can’t be denied
I loved you so much it sighed
You loved me too much it died
And now that we are sidelined
Our memories we can’t hide.
[...] Read more
poem by Redscar McOdindo K'Oyuga
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De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da
Dont think me unkind
Words are hard to find
The only cheques Ive left unsigned
From the banks of chaos in my mind
And when their eloquence escapes me
Their logic ties me up and rapes me
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
Their innocence will pull me through
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
Theyre meaningless and all thats true
Poets, priests and poiticians
Have words to thank for their positions
Words that scream for your submission
And no ones jamming their transmission
cos when their eloquence escapes you
Their logic ties you up and rapes you
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
Their innocence will pull me through
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
Theyre meaningless and all thats true
song performed by Police
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De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da
Don't think me unkind
Words are hard to find
The only cheques I've left unsigned
From the banks of chaos in my mind
And when their eloquence escapes me
Their logic ties me up and rapes me
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
Their innocence will pull me through
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
They're meaningless and all that's true
Poets, priests and poiticians
Have words to thank for their positions
Words that scream for your submission
And no one's jamming their transmission
'Cos when their eloquence escapes you
Their logic ties you up and rapes you
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
Their innocence will pull me through
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
They're meaningless and all that's true
song performed by Sting
Added by Lucian Velea
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With No Escapes From It To Exit
There is no other way to address truth,
But to be prepared to be stripped naked...
Bare,
With the exposing of every blemish.
Since truth is not seeking to be impressed.
Truth is on a mission to uncover honesty.
And many are still unbelieving,
The depth of which truth sees without explanation...
To deceive what is already revealed.
When truth is in one's presence and is fully awakened,
With no escapes from it to exit...
Foolish is the time taken to charade in masquerade,
To evade it with a wasting away of one's time.
With no escapes from it to exit,
Truth...
Is very effective!
With no escaping undetected,
Truth...
Is very effective.
Once fed truth it manifests.
And truth will not be neglected...
To reject!
With no escapes from it to exit,
Truth...
Is very effective!
With no escaping undetected,
Truth...
Is very effective.
Once fed truth it manifests.
And truth will not be neglected...
To reject!
With no escapes from it to exit,
Truth...
Is very effective!
With no escapes from it to exit,
Truth...
Is very effective!
And truth will not be neglected...
To reject!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Dream
'TWAS summer eve; the changeful beams still play'd
On the fir-bark and through the beechen shade;
Still with soft crimson glow'd each floating cloud;
Still the stream glitter'd where the willow bow'd;
Still the pale moon sate silent and alone,
Nor yet the stars had rallied round her throne;
Those diamond courtiers, who, while yet the West
Wears the red shield above his dying breast,
Dare not assume the loss they all desire,
Nor pay their homage to the fainter fire,
But wait in trembling till the Sun's fair light
Fading, shall leave them free to welcome Night!
So when some Chief, whose name through realms afar
Was still the watchword of succesful war,
Met by the fatal hour which waits for all,
Is, on the field he rallied, forced to fall,
The conquerors pause to watch his parting breath,
Awed by the terrors of that mighty death;
Nor dare the meed of victory to claim,
Nor lift the standard to a meaner name,
Till every spark of soul hath ebb'd away,
And leaves what was a hero, common clay.
Oh! Twilight! Spirit that dost render birth
To dim enchantments; melting Heaven with Earth,
Leaving on craggy hills and rumning streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams;
Thy hour to all is welcome! Faint and sweet
Thy light falls round the peasant's homeward feet,
Who, slow returning from his task of toil,
Sees the low sunset gild the cultured soil,
And, tho' such radliance round him brightly glows,
Marks the small spark his cottage window throws.
Still as his heart forestals his weary pace,
Fondly he dreams of each familiar face,
Recalls the treasures of his narrow life,
His rosy children, and his sunburnt wife,
To whom his coming is the chief event
Of simple days in cheerful labour spent.
The rich man's chariot hath gone whirling past,
And those poor cottagers have only cast
One careless glance on all that show of pride,
Then to their tasks turn'd quietly aside;
But him they wait for, him they welcome home,
Fond sentinels look forth to see him come;
The fagot sent for when the fire grew dim,
The frugal meal prepared, are all for him;
For him the watching of that sturdy boy,
[...] Read more
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Why Work
After months of tedious
Boring, heavy, tiresome
Atrocious, appalling, nude
Light, offensive and etc. work
The next best thing to happen
Is receiving the pay
It's good and who will argue
But before the pay
Landed into our sad and starving wallets
It undergoes a myriad of colorful
Miserable and inevitable circumstance
These sad things man himself invented
The deductions unlimited…
Deduct Deduct Deduct Deduct
Personal Income Tax, Medical Dental
Retirement Tax, Property Tax
Professional Tax, Business Tax
Thumb Tucks, Online Tax…..whewww! ! !
And after the first screening
The second follows…
The Loans, Salary Loan
Policy Loan, Emergency Loan
Calamity Loan, Insurance.
At last, the grain Is so fine
Here comes the hard earned money
The Take Home Pay
And whose waiting..
Electric Bills, Water Bills, Cable Bills, Telephone Bills
So…..I drink cheap wine too…and ignore the erotic pie
poem by Ayi Escalona
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Come As You Are (LP Version)
Come As You Are"
Come, as you are. As you were.
As I want you to be. As a friend.
As a friend. As an old enemy. Take your time.
Hurry up. The choice is yours. Don't be late.
Take a rest. As a friend. As a old memory, memory, memory, memory.
Come. Dowsed in mud. Soaked in bleach.
As I want you to be. As a trend. As a friend.
As an old memory, memory, memory, memory.
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
Memory, memory, memory, memory (don't have a gun).
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun. Memory, memory...
song performed by Nirvana
Added by Lucian Velea
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Memory (Thy Shall)
Thy shall not slumber,
Thy shall not wake,
A memory so fragile,
So delicate it may break.
A memory so lost,
So unwanted it tears apart,
Until it dies,
It shall go back to thy start.
A powerful memory it may be,
Or a memory that shall be overlooked,
Thy one shall let it see,
How thy memory is like a book.
But how powerful thy memory is,
It has to be stronger than a good memory,
A memory that has passion and feeling,
A memory that has greatness and becoming myself, I, and me.
Until that kind of memory is shown,
Thy memory shall be looked upon near and far,
Thy memory shall be kept hidden,
Until it shall be who we are.
Thy shall not slumber,
Thy shall not wake,
A memory so fragile,
so delicate it may break.
poem by Alicia Meyers
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Essay on Psychiatrists
I. Invocation
It‘s crazy to think one could describe them—
Calling on reason, fantasy, memory, eves and ears—
As though they were all alike any more
Than sweeps, opticians, poets or masseurs.
Moreover, they are for more than one reason
Difficult to speak of seriously and freely,
And I have never (even this is difficult to say
Plainly, without foolishness or irony)
Consulted one for professional help, though it happens
Many or most of my friends have—and that,
Perhaps, is why it seems urgent to try to speak
Sensibly about them, about the psychiatrists.
II. Some Terms
“Shrink” is a misnomer. The religious
Analogy is all wrong, too, and the old,
Half-forgotten jokes about Viennese accents
And beards hardly apply to the good-looking woman
In boots and a knit dress, or the man
Seen buying the Sunday Times in mutton-chop
Whiskers and expensive running shoes.
In a way I suspect that even the terms “doctor”
And “therapist” are misnomers; the patient
Is not necessarily “sick.” And one assumes
That no small part of the psychiatrist’s
Role is just that: to point out misnomers.
III. Proposition
These are the first citizens of contingency.
Far from the doctrinaire past of the old ones,
They think in their prudent meditations
Not about ecstasy (the soul leaving the body)
Nor enthusiasm (the god entering one’s person)
Nor even about sanity (which means
Health, an impossible perfection)
But ponder instead relative truth and the warm
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Pinsky
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