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The Source

the Source of ‘Crab Nebula'

'The greats molder in their graves
Their words collect as dust upon their spines
Their hearts do not beat in time with today
and yet, the Spirit calls & you answer
What more can a ‘writer' do'?

(poetic writers are compelled to write
& seldom know why)

Ninth Street

There is a cold water'd house
On a bleak winter'd street
With stale musty stink
Of unwashed sock and sheet
Dirty dishes left still
Standing there in the sink.

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poem by Donald Goodside
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The Regiment of Princes

Musynge upon the restlees bysynesse
Which that this troubly world hath ay on honde,
That othir thyng than fruyt of bittirnesse
Ne yildith naght, as I can undirstonde,
At Chestres In, right faste by the Stronde,
As I lay in my bed upon a nyght,
Thoght me byrefte of sleep the force and might. 1

And many a day and nyght that wikkid hyne
Hadde beforn vexed my poore goost
So grevously that of angwissh and pyne
No rycher man was nowhere in no coost.
This dar I seyn, may no wight make his boost
That he with thoght was bet than I aqweynted,
For to the deeth he wel ny hath me feynted.

Bysyly in my mynde I gan revolve
The welthe unseur of every creature,
How lightly that Fortune it can dissolve
Whan that hir list that it no lenger dure;

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poem by Thomas Hoccleve
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The American Flag and the Lucky Juju Bead (Not a Poem)

The American Flag and the Lucky Juju Bead

By Uriah Lee Hamilton

Monday night. No ticket to see the sold-out show of British pop singer Lily Allen at St. Andrew’s in Detroit. I’ve never let this stop me before. Off I go with the mad confidence of Hemingway and the sweet disposition of Jack Kerouac, ready as ever just to enjoy everything and be grateful.
I arrive in the parking lot of St. Andrew’s at 5: 50PM. About fifteen other people in line already including a thirty-five year old guy in a kilt. I have nothing against kilts really, but the chilly breeze was blowing 40 degrees Fahrenheit with snowflakes and rain falling, not strictly apropos for wearing your finest kilt. A homeless man approaches and gives me a small American flag. I tell him I can’t give him anything right now, no single bills until I can find a ticket to buy. I forgot I had a pocketful coins in a plastic bag. The homeless guy promptly reclaims the small American flag from me. My feelings were kind of hurt but I never really get mad at the homeless.
As people showed up, I’d ask, “Have an extra ticket? ” “No, man, I sure don’t.” “Ok, you can have my place in line, I’m ticketless.” At least fifteen more people show up that I have this conversation with, including two people from Dayton, Ohio also without tickets. Drats! Competition!
Then another homeless man on a bike approaches me. He says, “It’s going to be a good show isn’t it? ” I reply, “I don’t know, I can’t get a ticket.” “You don’t have ticket? ” Again I respond, “No, I can’t get a ticket.” He then assures me I’ll get a ticket. “You know, I met Lily today. Pretty little thing, I gave her one of my good luck juju beads.” The homeless guy then showed me two of his fingers. They didn’t appear that much more spectacular than any fingers I’ve seen on other hands. I guess he was holding one of his good luck juju beads, though. This time I remembered the pocketful of change I had. I pulled out the plastic bag and said, “I don’t know what’s in here, but you can have it” (I’m guessing two or three dollars) . He said, “Thanks.” And he then opens those not all that uncommon two fingers and gives me this little juju bead that I put in the pocket that had the plastic bag of change. The homeless guy then disappears as calmly as he appeared, almost like Jesus on the road to Emmaus when he slips away after enlightening the down-hearted disciples about the plan of God with the events that just unfolded. That seemed appropriate for the day after Easter.
As soon as the homeless guy vanishes, three guys show up in line and once again I ask, “Have any tickets? ” One of the three responded, “Just one, man.” I asked, “How much? ” He tells me, “Fifty dollars.” I promptly give him the fifty dollars and a God-blessing and felt all happy. I kind of felt bad for the two people from Dayton but maybe they didn’t have a good luck juju bead. I hope they got tickets somehow, but I don’t know. The time is 6: 30PM and the doors open at 7: 00PM.
An Electronic band from Seattle called Natalie Portman’s Shaved Head opened the show. They were a fun party band with a song or two seeming disco-like. Everyone was having a good time dancing and swaying and talking to friends and people they were romantically involved with. All very cool.
Finally, Lily Allen takes the stage wearing a cool gray hoodie. She eventually sheds the hoodie and has a white T shirt on and is just super cute with a new shorter hair cut. She’s dancing and smiling and singing and everyone in the audience is doing the same. She then introduces a song called “Who’d Have Known” saying it is about the early time in a relationship before you really know each other. As she’s singing the song, she notices a gay couple in front of me all happy with each other and the show and points toward them and smiles friendly and approvingly. A song or two later, the one guy of the couple has a tear on his face from how much he is enjoying the show and Lily notices that as well and says, “You’re crying, are you ok? ” She then reaches out her hand with her lovely pink finger nails and shakes his hand. I think that is the only hand she shook last night. She later throws a towel out into the audience and the same guy gets the towel. Uriah left empty-handed but happy. For the final song in the encore, she sings “Womanizer” by Brittany Spears and everybody is just bopping up and down and digging the coolness of it all. My only disappointment is that she doesn’t sing the song “Knock ‘Em Out”
Form her first album. The song is about a guy hitting on her that won’t take no for an answer and Lily says in her perfectly lovely English accent, “It’s not going to happen, not in a million years.” I know something about success in receiving rejection, but not by such a cool British voice. I would have liked to heard that one. Maybe next time.
On the way out, a pretty blonde kept saying, “This was a sold out show, there is no recession.” I don’t know if that line was motivated from any particular political perspective. I’ll just take it as one more person saying good luck to everyone.

8: 39PM 4-14-2009

poem by Uriah Hamilton
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The Ballad of the White Horse

DEDICATION

Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night--
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?

Where seven sunken Englands
Lie buried one by one,
Why should one idle spade, I wonder,
Shake up the dust of thanes like thunder
To smoke and choke the sun?

In cloud of clay so cast to heaven
What shape shall man discern?
These lords may light the mystery
Of mastery or victory,
And these ride high in history,
But these shall not return.

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poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Quintus

Incipit Liber Sextus

Est gula, que nostrum maculavit prima parentem
Ex vetito pomo, quo dolet omnis homo
Hec agit, ut corpus anime contraria spirat,
Quo caro fit crassa, spiritus atque macer.
Intus et exterius si que virtutis habentur,
Potibus ebrietas conviciata ruit.
Mersa sopore labis, que Bachus inebriat hospes,
Indignata Venus oscula raro premit.

---------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------

The grete Senne original,
Which every man in general
Upon his berthe hath envenymed,
In Paradis it was mystymed:
Whan Adam of thilke Appel bot,
His swete morscel was to hot,
Which dedly made the mankinde.

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poem by John Gower
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Man Is Especially Special!

Man is something special,
Man has something special!
Man thinks special,
And finds something special,

His smile and laugh are special
And this made him more social.

Man's heart is special,
And always feels special!
Man feels pain and happiness,
Not only of him, but also of others

Man acts and does something special!
So he learnt to fly high, live simple,
Think high
and dive deep

Man is potential,
as he is learner,

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poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Tom Zart's 52 Best Of The Rest America At War Poems

SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF WORLD WAR III

The White House
Washington
Tom Zart's Poems

March 16,2007
Ms. Lillian Cauldwell
President and Chief Executive Officer
Passionate Internet Voices Radio
Ann Arbor Michigan

Dear Lillian:
Number 41 passed on the CDs from Tom Zart. Thank you for thinking of me. I am thankful for your efforts to honor our brave military personnel and their families. America owes these courageous men and women a debt of gratitude, and I am honored to be the commander in chief of the greatest force for freedom in the history of the world.
Best Wishes.

Sincerely,

George W. Bush

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poem by Tom Zart
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Children Should Not Have To Be Homeless

There are thousands of homeless children in Beijing in China though that is not suprising to hear
For where there is a huge population there is poverty too 'twould appear
And China to anywhere else is no different the rich getting richer they say
And just beyond the leafy suburb is the suburb of neglect and decay.

There are thousands of homeless children in New York though with that some may not agree
In America the great Land of commerce no such a thing as poverty?
But the facts of course will tell you differently and in a World of inequality
There too are children homeless and hungry in the so called Land of the free.

There are homeless children in London in England as well as in Paris in France
The poor children of the poor suburb in life they do not have a chance
Their parents in Jail for drug abuse they become the kids of the street
They search the rubbish bins for food in dark alleys and what others do throw out they eat.

There are homeless children in Sydney and Melbourne and anywhere else one might name
Though that does not seem to affect us we never reflect on our shame
That many should have to grow poorer for one to become a millionaire
In a truly egalatarian society would never be looked on as fair.

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poem by Francis Duggan
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Christmas-Eve

I.
OUT of the little chapel I burst
Into the fresh night air again.
I had waited a good five minutes first
In the doorway, to escape the rain
That drove in gusts down the common’s centre,
At the edge of which the chapel stands,
Before I plucked up heart to enter:
Heaven knows how many sorts of hands
Reached past me, groping for the latch
Of the inner door that hung on catch,
More obstinate the more they fumbled,
Till, giving way at last with a scold
Of the crazy hinge, in squeezed or tumbled
One sheep more to the rest in fold,
And left me irresolute, standing sentry
In the sheepfold’s lath-and-plaster entry,
Four feet long by two feet wide,
Partitioned off from the vast inside—
I blocked up half of it at least.

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poem by Robert Browning
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Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 2.

SCENE I. -- CHORUS OF ANGELS Singing.

Now let us garlands weave
Of all the fairest flowers,
Now at this early dawn,
For new-made man, and his companion dear;
Let all with festive joy,
And with melodious song,
Of the great Architect
Applaud this noblest work,
And speak the joyous sound,
Man is the wonder both of Earth and Heaven.

FIRST Angel.

Your warbling now suspend,
You pure angelic progeny of God,
Behold the labour emulous of Heaven!
Behold the woody scene,
Decked with a thousand flowers of grace divine;

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poem by William Cowper
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