Quotes about asia, page 22
A Mad Fight Song For William S. Carpenter, 1966
Varus, varus, gib mir meine Legionen wieder
Quick on my feet in those Novembers of my loneliness,
I tossed a short pass,
Almost the instant I got the ball, right over the head
Of Barrel Terry before he knocked me cold.
When I woke, I found myself crying out
Latin conjugations, and the new snow falling
At the edge of a green field.
Lemoyne Crone had caught the pass, while I lay
Unconscious and raging
Alone with the fire ghost of Catullus, the contemptuous graces tossing
Garlands and hendecasyllabics over the head
Of Cornelius Nepos the mastodon,
The huge volume.
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poem by James Arlington Wright
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Dreams and Weapons
We are the astray travellers,
Of South Asia,
We have purchased weapons
by selling our dreams;
And always preferred to form forces
To the starving children.
Now in our deserted courtyard
The trenches slink,
And blood-claiming Furnace of War
Gazes at our well grown up bodies
With capricious eyes.
War
From behind the table of dialogue
Whispers to us,
And the starved graveyard
By steadily creeping,
Has reached walls of the city.
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poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Love Song
My own dear love, he is strong and bold
And he cares not what comes after.
His words ring sweet as a chime of gold,
And his eyes are lit with laughter.
He is jubilant as a flag unfurled --
Oh, a girl, she'd not forget him.
My own dear love, he is all my world, --
And I wish I'd never met him.
My love, he's mad, and my love, he's fleet,
And a wild young wood-thing bore him!
The ways are fair to his roaming feet,
And the skies are sunlit for him.
As sharply sweet to my heart he seems
As the fragrance of acacia.
My own dear love, he is all my dreams, --
And I wish he were in Asia.
My love runs by like a day in June,
And he makes no friends of sorrows.
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poem by Dorothy Parker
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The End Of All Questions I
Every question ever asked had been answered.
Everything you'd wondered, staring at the night sky.
Where those shooting stars do finally go to
What, indeed, lurks in the hearts of black holes
Anti-matter, parallel universes, yes, the whole show.
Why the dinosaurs perished from this earth
The truth behind those god-awful conspiracy theories
What, exactly, the link between earthquakes is and fracking
Why all those jobs were packed off overseas
Why many suffer never-endingly for the gains of a few.
What the difference is between man and the monkey, assuming one.
What inspired the first man to climb the first mountain.
Why men eternally think themselves victims of women.
Why women eternally think themselves victims of men.
Why Americans believe in nothing they haven't heard on CNN.
Why population control is never, ever discussed except in Asia
(limited goods, unlimited demand-makes sense to me)
poem by Morgan Michaels
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The Eye
The Atlantic is a stormy moat; and the Mediterranean,
The blue pool in the old garden,
More than five thousand years has drunk sacrifice
Of ships and blood, and shines in the sun; but here the Pacific--
Our ships, planes, wars are perfectly irrelevant.
Neither our present blood-feud with the brave dwarfs
Nor any future world-quarrel of westering
And eastering man, the bloody migrations, greed of power, clash of
faiths--
Is a speck of dust on the great scale-pan.
Here from this mountain shore, headland beyond stormy headland
plunging like dolphins through the blue sea-smoke
Into pale sea--look west at the hill of water: it is half the
planet:
this dome, this half-globe, this bulging
Eyeball of water, arched over to Asia,
Australia and white Antartica: those are the eyelids that never
close;
this is the staring unsleeping
Eye of the earth; and what it watches is not our wars.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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The Wedding of the Rose and the Lotos
The wide Pacific waters
And the Atlantic meet.
With cries of joy they mingle,
In tides of love they greet.
Above the drowned ages
A wind of wooing blows: —
The red rose woos the lotos,
The lotos woos the rose . . .
The lotos conquered Egypt.
The rose was loved in Rome.
Great India crowned the lotos:
(Britain the rose's home).
Old China crowned the lotos,
They crowned it in Japan.
But Christendom adored the rose
Ere Christendom began . . .
The lotos speaks of slumber:
The rose is as a dart.
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poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Honestly My Love
honestly my love
on a union like ours
for twelve years, forty days, six hours,25 minutes
and 40 seconds
i feel like i am a train always running and running
on a railway without resting
on any station
now that you have decided
to take a vacation
somewhere
in mexico
or africa
or how i wish you go somewhere
in east asia
where some of the mystics
are selling
their beliefs and practices
about peace and harmony
and nature
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ballad for the Forgotten Workers
down by the river, down on the street,
past the empty factory buildings,
smokestacks that no longer smoke.
past the run down tenements,
past the vacant store fronts.
to fires that dont burn, and...
...engines that dont stroke.
down the road, leaving the city behind,
there's miles and miles of fields,
stone silent and turning brown.
tractors rusting in the sun,
a bucket by the well...
old house lies empty, falling down.
the sea of hands lost forever;
red and white, brown, and black.
headstones in the parking lots,
but they're never coming back.
built your cities, built your country,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Tender Buttons [a Light in the Moon]
A LIGHT IN THE MOON
A light in the moon the only light is on Sunday. What was the sensible decision. The sensible decision was that notwithstanding many declarations and more music, not even notwithstanding the choice and a torch and a collection, notwithstanding the celebrating hat and a vacation and even more noise than cutting, notwithstanding Europe and Asia and being overbearing, not even notwithstanding an elephant and a strict occasion, not even withstanding more cultivation and some seasoning, not even with drowning and with the ocean being encircling, not even with more likeness and any cloud, not even with terrific sacrifice of pedestrianism and a special resolution, not even more likely to be pleasing. The care with which the rain is wrong and the green is wrong and the white is wrong, the care with which there is a chair and plenty of breathing. The care with which there is incredible justice and likeness, all this makes a magnificent asparagus, and also a fountain.
poem by Gertrude Stein
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Rage The World
Supposed developed country
embarked upon
quested industrial rivalry.
Seduces all innards parts.
Chinese mentality
challenges
with unhinged reality.
Corpulent Later Day Capitalists.
Earth rape embryo
pristine natural resources.
Shame righteous scream protesting
misguided shame.
Chinese Taiwanese Japanese
all is same to offended Greenies.
Protesting, adrift, drift-net fishing, mentality.
Rape Humanities Sea.
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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