first date
cicada and me
seventeen
haiku by Ben Gieske
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Seventeen
Late last night
I get a call from a so-called friend
He wouldnt give his name
Says he saw you with another man
Feels like seventeen years
Its only seventeen days
Since I saw the real you
And I let you walk away
You left me broken
You left me stranded
The way you play this game of love
Its just plain underhanded
I spent a lot of time
And I spent all my money
Dont want no other fool
To put his hands on you
Who you been talkin to?
Yeah who you been walkin with?
Seventeen, youre just seventeen
Seventeen
They said I was playin with fire
I knew I had to take a chance
I had to take you higher
To a new experience
But little did I know
Id never get that far
Girl, you know you put on quite a show
Youre gonna be a star
When you grow older, girl
Youll remember I told you, girl
Seventeen, youre just seventeen
Seventeen, seventeen
Seventeen, youre just seventeen
Seventeen, seventeen
Seventeen, youre only seventeen
Seventeen, seventeen
song performed by Foreigner
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Seventeen
(track 2 - time 3:18)
(aimee mayo/bill luther/chris lindsey)
Backseat of her daddys car
I was trying not to go too far
Kept thinking about the words the preacherman said
Lightnin flashed across the sky
I saw love in a young girls eyes
And thats a look you never forget
Seventeen only comes once in a lifetime
Dont it just fly by wild and free
Goin any way the wind blew baby
Seventeen livin on crazy dreams
Rock and roll and faded blue jeans
And standing on the edge of everything
Seventeen
Legs hangin off the bayou bridge
Feedin fish potato chips
And talkin about the mysteries of the universe
Yeah the world was somewhere else
We had the summer all to ourselves
And the stars went off like fireworks
Seventeen only comes once in a lifetime
Dont it just fly by wild and free
Goin any way the wind blew baby
Seventeen livin on crazy dreams
Rock and roll and faded blue jeans
And standing on the edge of everything
Seventeen
Seventeen only comes once in a lifetime
Dont it just fly by wild and free
Goin any way the wind blew baby
Seventeen livin on crazy dreams
Rock and roll and faded blue jeans
And standing on the edge of everything
Seventeen
Yeah seventeen
Sweet seventeen
song performed by Tim McGraw
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Lonely Lady #17
Lonely lady one, she run away.
And number two, she do the same.
Lady number three walk out on me
Like number four.
Whos keeping score?
Lady five, oh how she lied.
She made me pay some dues.
Six and seven, eight, nine, ten,
They really were bad news.
Oh no, theyd only break my heart.
Thats how it seems.
And then I finally came upon
A lady seventeen.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
She stayed a while.
She had the style.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
She got to be with lonely me.
Lonely, lonely lady number seventeen, yeah.
Lonely lady!
Ladies eleven, twelve and thirteen,
They came and went.
Baby, I still can hear them sayin
Its time to repent.
I turned around,
And there she was
With such a sweet surprise:
A lovin face,
Lovin smile,
And love lights in her eyes.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
You stayed a while.
You had the style.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
Come on and be
With lonely me
Oh no, when lady fourteen walked out,
Thats when I screamed.
No luck with lady fifteen
Or sweet sixteen.
But lonely lady number seventeen,
You stayed a while.
You had the style.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
Come on an be
With lonely me.
Lonely, lonely lady
Number seventeen, yeah!
Lonely lady!
She makes me feel so sociable
song performed by Neil Diamond
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Nebraska
It seems like I should know better
I guess I don't know much
When I'm alone I'm everything
But I'm not well beneath it all
Stop staring over my shoulder
Just let me breathe in peace now
Cause all I ask for is a....date
One date to shine
One date to leave it all behind
One date, yea!
One date to myself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
It seems like I should know better
I guess I don't know much
When I'm alone I'm everything
But I'm not well beneath it all
Stop staring over my shoulder
Just let me breathe in peace now
Cause all I ask for is a....
One date to shine
One date to leave it all behind
One date, yea!
One date to myself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
One date to shine
One date to leave it all behind
One date, yea, yea, yea!
One date to myself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
song performed by Bowling For Soup
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Double Date
Roy orbison/ jack clement
Me and my buddy went on a double date
I was feeling great, I could hardly wait
I got my lovin baby and introduced my friend
He fell for her, she fell for him
On a double date, on a double date
Now my babys gone, Im all alone
All because of a double date, of a double date
Then my one time buddy went on a double date
He was feeling great, he couldnt hardly wait
He got my loving baby and introduced his friend
Ha ha, and then that was the end
On a double date, on a double date
Now my babys gone, Im all alone
All because of a double date, of a double date
Of a double date, of a double date....
song performed by Roy Orbison
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A Psalm Of Councel
Though some good folks may take it ill,
As trifling with parsonic frill,
Thus saith the Lord to Jim and Bill,
In admonition stern and straight:—
Ye hold from Me the brightest zones,
The fairest realm this planet owns,
Guarded on every side by Jones,
And standing yet inviolate.
So far, so good. And all the rest,
Amounting to a racial test,
May be compendiously express'd
In four short words — Be Up To Date.
Australia is the unit. There!
This Commonwealth denotes your share;
Ye have no loyalty to spare,
In spite of all your Empire prate.
For though the Motherland be good,
Yet may some oddities intrude,
Which it would be extremely rude
On your poor part to imitate.
For instance, if she should be lame,
It's not included in the game
That you should limp behind the dame,
By way of keeping Up To Date.
AUSTRALIA IS THE UNIT, mind!
With bounds unchangeably defin'd;
A continent to you assign'd —
That is the primary postulate.
One 'angry cloth' to call your own;
One scorn for every brand of drone;
One slant-eyed menace — yours alone! —
Involving each ingredient State.
The Commonwealth is paramount;
City or province merely count
As streamlets from that central fount —
Provided you are Up To Date.
If you should fail, with such a start,
To lead the world in Thought and Art,
You're only fit to draw a cart,
Which probably would be your fate.
Now take the tip of Holy Writ —
You won't survive unless you're fit;
And something more than honest grit
Must go to make a people great.
An Asiatic boundary fence
Is little better than pretence
Unless you're white in every sense —
[...] Read more
poem by Joseph Furphy
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I Wonder About The Cicada That You See
i know that this morning
you walk on the park
on a sunny day and it
is, of course, hot
and then you see this cicada
and i wonder if it is
singing
or grumbling
on this very hot sunny day by the park
i wonder if the cicada stares
at you
i wonder if you talk to the cicada
i wonder if
something happens that you
cannot just forget
about the cicada
i wonder if everything is unfinished
images half-printed
i wonder if at all, to whatever we see and feel and
talk about i wonder if
there must be conclusions
i wonder if
we must limit only to our own observations
leave it that way
like a bat hanging on the wall
and then
just that, whether if flies away or drops dead
you say
i do not honestly know and
i have really nothing to say
i like it with you,
something unfinished, and perhaps that is the beauty in you
this suspended suspense
suspenseful till nowhere
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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17 Again
Yay though we venture through
The valley of the stars
You and all your jewelry
And my bleeding heart
Who couldnt be together
And who could not be apart
We shouldve jumped out
Of that airplane after all
Flying skyways overhead
It wasnt hard to fall
And I had so many crashes
That I couldnt feel
At all...
And it feels like
Im seventeen again
Feels like Im seventeen
Times might break you
God forsake you
Leave you burned and bruised
Innocence will teach you
What it feels like to be used
Thought that youd done everything
You didnt have a clue
And it feels like
Im seventeen again
Feels like Im seventeen
Looking from the outside in
Some things never change
Hey hey Im a million miles away
Funny how it seems like yesterday ...
All those fake celebrities
And all those viscous queens
All the stupid papers
And the stupid magazines
Sweet dreams are made of anything
That gets you in the scene
And it feels like
Im seventeen again
Feels like Im seventeen
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree
I travel the world and the seven seas
Everybodys looking for something
Yea
song performed by Eurythmics
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A Cicada Shell
a cicada shell
how like a porcelain
it breaks piece by piece
after a noisy night
the cicada waves at me on the floor
with its legs
A cicada shell;
it sang itself
utterly away.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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My Rival
I go to concert, party, ball --
What profit is in these?
I sit alone against the wall
And strive to look at ease.
The incense that is mine by right
They burn before her shrine;
And that's because I'm seventeen
And She is forty-nine.
I cannot check my girlish blush,
My color comes and goes;
I redden to my finger-tips,
And sometimes to my nose.
But She is white where white should be,
And red where red should shine.
The blush that flies at seventeen
Is fixed at forty-nine.
I wish I had Her constant cheek;
I wish that I could sing
All sorts of funny little songs,
Not quite the proper thing.
I'm very gauche and very shy,
Her jokes aren't in my line;
And, worst of all, I'm seventeen
While She is forty-nine.
The young men come, the young men go
Each pink and white and neat,
She's older than their mothers, but
They grovel at Her feet.
They walk beside Her 'rickshaw wheels --
None ever walk by mine;
And that's because I'm seventeen
And She is foty-nine.
She rides with half a dozen men,
(She calls them "boys" and "mashers")
I trot along the Mall alone;
My prettiest frocks and sashes
Don't help to fill my programme-card,
And vainly I repine
From ten to two A.M. Ah me!
Would I were forty-nine!
She calls me "darling," "pet," and "dear,"
And "sweet retiring maid."
I'm always at the back, I know,
She puts me in the shade.
She introduces me to men,
[...] Read more
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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A Girl's Grave
"Aged 17, OF A BROKEN HEART, January 1st, 1841."
What story is here of broken love,
What idyllic sad romance,
What arrow fretted the silken dove
That met with such grim mischance?
I picture you, sleeper of long ago,
When you trifled and danced and smiled,
All golden laughter and beauty's glow
In a girl life sweet and wild.
Hair with the red gold's luring tinge,
Fine as the finest silk,
Violet eyes with a golden fringe
And cheeks of roses and milk.
Something of this you must have been,
Something gentle and sweet,
To have broken your heart at seventeen
And died in such sad defeat.
Hardly one of your kinsfolk live,
It was all so long ago,
The tale of the cruel love to give
That laid you here so low.
Loving, trusting, and foully paid --
The story is easily guessed,
A blotted sun and skies that fade
And this grass-grown grave the rest.
Whatever the cynic may sourly say,
With a dash of truth, I ween,
Of the girls of the period, in your day
They had hearts at seventeen.
Dead of a fashion out of date,
Such folly has passed away
Like the hoop and patch and modish gait
That went out with an older day.
The stone is battered and all awry,
The words can be scarcely read,
The rank reeds clustering thick and high
Over your buried head.
I pluck one straight as a Paynim's lance
To keep your memory green,
For the lordly sake of old Romance
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick Edward Quinn
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A Girls' Grave
What story is here of broken love,
What idyllic sad romance,
What arrow fretted the silken dove
That met with such grim mischance?
I picture you, sleeper of long ago,
When you trifled and danced and smiled,
All golden laughter and beauty's glow
In a girl life sweet and wild.
Hair with the red gold's luring tinge,
Fine as the finest silk,
Violet eyes with a golden fringe
And cheeks of roses and milk.
Something of this you must have been,
Something gentle and sweet,
To have broken your heart at seventeen
And died in such sad defeat.
Hardly one of your kinsfolk live,
It was all so long ago,
The tale of the cruel love to give
That laid you here so low.
Loving, trusting, and foully paid --
The story is easily guessed,
A blotted sun and skies that fade
And this grass-grown grave the rest.
Whatever the cynic may sourly say,
With a dash of truth, I ween,
Of the girls of the period, in your day
They had hearts at seventeen.
Dead of a fashion out of date,
Such folly has passed away
Like the hoop and patch and modish gait
That went out with an older day.
The stone is battered and all awry,
The words can be scarcely read,
The rank reeds clustering thick and high
Over your buried head.
I pluck one straight as a Paynim's lance
To keep your memory green,
For the lordly sake of old Romance
And your own, sad seventeen.
poem by Patrick Edward Quinn
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Philadelphia
If you're off to Philadelphia in the morning,
You mustn't take my stories for a guide.
There's little left, indeed, of the city you will read of,
And all the folk I write about have died.
Now few will understand if you mention Talleyrand,
Or remember what his cunning and his skill did;
And the cabmen at the wharf do not know Count Zinzendorf,
Nor the Church in Philadelphia he builded.
It is gone, gone, gone with lost Atlantis,
(Never say I didn't give you warning).
In Seventeen Ninety-three 'twas there for all to see,
But it's not in Philadelphia this morning.
If you're off to Philadelphia in the morning,
You mustn't go by anything I've said.
Bob Bicknell's Southern Stages have been laid aside for ages,
But the Limited will take you there instead.
Toby Hirte can't be seen at One Hundred and Eighteen
North Second Street--no matter when you call;
And I fear you'll search in vain for the wash-house down the lane
Where Pharaoh played the fiddle at the ball.
It is gone, gone, gone with Thebes the Golden,
(Never say I didn't give you warning).
In Seventeen Ninety-four 'twas a famous dancing floor--
But it's not in Philadelphia this morning.
If you're off to Philadelphia in the morning,
You must telegraph for rooms at some Hotel.
You needn't try your luck at Epply's or "The Buck,"
Though the Father of his Country liked them well.
It is not the slightest use to inquire for Adam Goos,
Or to ask where Pastor Meder has removed--so
You must treat as out of date the story I relate
Of the Church in Philadelphia he loved so.
He is gone, gone, gone with Martin Luther
(Never say I didn't give you warning)
In Seventeen Ninety-five he was, (rest his soul!) alive.
But he's not in Philadelphia this morning.
If you're off to Philadelphia this morning,
And wish to prove the truth of what I say,
I pledge my word you'll find the pleasant land behind
Unaltered since Red Jacket rode that way.
Still the pine-woods scent the noon; still the catbird sings his
tune;
Still autumn sets the maple-forest blazing;
Still the grape-vine through the dusk flings her soul-compelling
[...] Read more
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Preachers Daughter
[opens very soft and slow, to the tune of mona/shes the one]
I got a date with the preachers daughter
She give me life she bring me water.
Every sunday I watch her work
Pretty little (siff? ) in a pretty little church
Daddy gives her nod she takes collection
Daddy gives her nod she kneels by her side.
Well Id sell my soul for just one touch
The lord would too if he loved her half as much.
Well I got a date with the preachers daughter.
Her daddy say that the boys no good
Just want to raise some (coons? ) out through the back woods
Well baby better believe what your daddy say
Just wanna ramrod baby my life away.
Its a long walk to heaven and a road filled with sin
And they better open up the freeway to let me in.
cuz I got a date with the preachers daughter
Well now I dont care what the preacher say
Haaaaayyyy
[identical to haaaaayyyy, mona]
Well now I dont care what the preacher do
Haaaaayyyy
I dont care what the preacher like
Haaaaayyyy
I dont care what the preacher think
Haaaaayyyy
Leads me to water but wont let me drink.
He leads me to water but wont let me drink.
(big man)
[maracas start, music picks up, bruce starts yelling]
And now its (whole little world? ) on saturday night
Two boys fighting in a halo of light
Car door flung open and a radio loud
And everybody shouting and running around.
Two guys bloody and one I dont know
And all little girls shouting go billy go
Go billy go.
Well just as I got the preachers daughter ready for a light
And (missed a vh fire? ) and something aint right.
And like a she-devil howlin from the gates of hell
Goddam here come the preacher in his coupe deville
Burnin up the backroad kicking in the dirt
And oh baby preacher thinks he is church
Well now your lips they shine in the willow mist
And I swear Id take you down (young croft? ) for just one kiss
I got a date with the preachers daughter
I got a date with the preachers daughter
And its haaaaayyyyoooo
I got a date with the preachers daughter
Hmmmmm...
song performed by Bruce Springsteen
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Middle Eastern Plan To Hijack Commercial Aircraft
Oil Date 1998 and 2000
George H.W. Bush a former President purchases
'The Best Enemies Money Can Buy' skip travels
to Saudi Arabia on behalf of the privately owned
Carlyle Group who are elite 11th largest defense
US contractor but who does Bush meet Bush meet...
In Saudi Arabia George H.W. Bush meets privately
with the Saudi royal family and bin Laden family?
Oil Date January 2001
Bush Administration orders FBI plus intelligence
agencies to 'back off' investigations involving
can't touch that Bush protected bin Laden family
including two of wanted Osama bin Laden's relatives
Abdullah and Omar living in Falls Church next to...
CIA headquarters previous orders protecting bin
Laden family dating back to 1996 frustrating efforts
to investigate al-Qaeda suspects in bin Laden family?
Oil Date Feb 13,2001
Richard Sale UPI Terrorism Correspondent
on trial of bin Laden's al-Qaeda followers
reports infamous National Security Agency
broke bin Laden's encrypted communications
are reading all Osama bin Laden's terror plans...
How does this mesh with wield fact US government
insists that 9/11 attacks had been planned for years
yet Bush keeps ordering zero bin Laden monitoring?
Oil Date May 2001
How bizarre Colin Powell Secretary of State gives
$43 million in aid to Taliban regime reportedly
to assist poor hungry Afghani farmers now starving
since destruction of their opium crop in January
on orders of Taliban regime drug intolerance policy …
Drugs war war on drugs covert money making policy?
Oil Date May 2001 (Smoking Guns)
Richard Armitage Deputy Secretary of State
a former Navy Seal a career covert operative
travels to India on a publicized known tour
meanwhile George Tenet CIA Director quiet
visits Pakistan meets Pakistani leader General...
Pervez Musharraf but but put the pieces together
Richard Armitage possesses Pakistani intelligence
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Months Of 9/11 Intelligence Warnings Ignored?
Oil Date Summer 2001
Pakistani ISI Chief General Ahmad orders an aide
to wire transfer $100,000 to al-Qaeda FBI suspect
suicide hijackings 9/11 lead terrorist Mohammed
Atta but this transfer was later in India disclosed
then confirmed by the FBI General Ahmad resigned....
Oil Date August 11 or 12,2001 (Vreeland Spills The Beans)
Delmart 'Mike' Vreeland US Navy Lt. O-3 jailed in
Toronto on U.S. fraud charges claims to be an officer
in U.S. Naval intelligence ONI suddenly writes details
of the pending WTC attacks and seals them in an
envelope which he gives to Canadian authorities...
mystery man Vreeland locked up securely in a Canadian
jail since December 6,2000 verbally fails to warn jailers
Vreeland's letter specifically listed high profile targets
including The White House, The World Trade Center,
The Pentagon, The Sears Towers, Royal Bank in Toronto...
and Canadian parliament building in Ottawa but this
chilling sentence followed the target list 'Let one happen.
Stop the rest! ! ! ' the envelope was opened September 14th?
Oil Date August 2001 (FBI Uncovers Hijacking Plot)
FBI arrests Islamic militant linked to bin Laden in Boston
'French intelligence sources confirm that the man is a key
member of bin Laden's network and the FBI learns that he
has been taking flying lessons' the man has in possession
technical information on Boeing aircraft and flight manuals...
Oil Date August 2001 (CIA Receives Hijack Warnings)
Russian intelligence notifies the CIA 25 terrorist pilots
were specifically training for suicide missions reported
in Russian press news stories translated by a retired CIA
officer who forwards this data to the FTW the Russian
President Vladimir Putin orders Russian intelligence to...
warn 'in the strongest possible terms' the government
of the US of imminent attacks on airports government
buildings MS-NBC interview with Putin September 15th?
Oil Date August/September 2001
Dow Jones Industrial Average drops nearly 900
points in three weeks prior to 9/11 attack
meaning a major stock market crash is imminent?
Oil Date September 3-10,2001 (US Imminent Attack)
'a caller to a Cayman Islands radio talk show gave several
warnings of an imminent attack on the U.S. by bin Laden
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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So... it wasn't a date.
It was a date.
At some unearthly hour
When all was dead and still,
I snuck out to meet you.
[I absolutely insist that
9.30 in the morning is an unearthly hour
During the school holidays when
My siblings aren’t even awake then.
So there.]
We met at a small quiet room
Which the administration had
Most romantically and appropriately titled:
“The Study Room”,
In a desolate, deserted community centre where
We sat with our knees occasionally bumping into each other's
Whispering sweet nothings to each other.
You coyly, tenderly murmured into my ear that
The integration of the equation: 1 / [ x(x+1) ]
Was equivalent to: ln |x| - ln |x+1| + c,
'Where c, '
You breathe almost huskily,
'Is an arbitrary constant.'
In return, I gently, sweetly, responded that
the Special Economic Zones that Deng Xiao Ping implemented
Allowed for the liberalization of the Chinese economy in a
Controlled and organized manner,
'Thus, '
I lower my voice and lean in closer so I can breathe in your scent
'Bypassing the mistakes that Gorbachev had made,
When he was trying the same with the USSR.'
All day we sat there,
Pens every so often knocking into the other's.
It was just
You and Me
(and the Textbooks.)
That night, as I walked you home,
We giggled and gossiped about
Frivolous issues such as
The Affairs of Monopoly and Oligopoly and
Their scandalous engagement in Third-Degree Price Discrimination
By cruelly segmenting the pitiful, victimized Consumer Market and
Evilly plotting out schemes to 'Prevent the Resale of the Good'.
And when we parted that night,
I was thinking that
You were more beautiful
[...] Read more
poem by Cain XXX
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The Cicada
The cicada sheds his skin in summer,
Leaving behind an empty shell, a trace
Of his former self. The callous is left
With the peeling of its flesh. Now, a raw,
Reborn body remains, unspoiled by
The surfaces he felt beneath his claw,
Or the textures that formed against his weight.
A new cicada crawls forth from this case,
And he is no longer any number
Than the Earth that firms underneath his feet.
His wings buzz, freed from the crispness of time's
Dusty chrysalis. A much younger face
Emerges with eyes fresh from the slumber.
Awake, he couldn't believe what he saw.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Wings Of Fair-Hair
August is the origin in us it rises.
The sky of song of the cicada, watch the sun.
Clear wings of fair-hair she has left undone,
with heat by the falls around us.
Sand crane of the dunes hoovering.
Left, us it' which is felt.
So it is heavy and heavy it is So, it is.
Emptied the grip which should be broken off freely, it.
And that you must be settled,
August because it is short than exact.
By September her journey' It has arrived.
Cicada's exacted simply,
from the ground, At the time of her sun.
poem by Is It Poetry
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After the Carnival
AFTER THE CARNIVAL
The carnival of carefree play
too long has tripped its careless way,
clowned senseless as an ass’s bray
while flesh from flesh Time stripped away.
.
Once sun strong shone, when one made hay
cicada-like, would spend the day
in hasting-wasting, - led astray
by vain beliefs the day to pay
would never come. But hopes decay,
the ostrich-innings stumped. Today,
momentum lost, depressed dismay
notes there’s no energy to pray.
.
Illusions fade, blue skies turn grey,
what once seemed certain from life's fray
has dropped defeated, options fray.
Careless of creed, one must obey
dread summons which to night turns day.
.
That one’s posterity will stay
when life’s departed holds at bay
a sense of impotence and may
part justify the role to play.
The carnival is over, May
to Winter bows, Spring may not stay -
its darling buds in blossom, gay,
tomorrow must return to clay.
4 November 1992 revised 21 May 2005 and 29 December 2010
robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
see Après la Fête robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
Après la Fête
Life's Carnival swift sinks soon drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to life's ground rules lain,
clowns stride stage, pine, pain, soon lie slain.
.
Though some may for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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