Quotes about asia, page 23
A Word To An Affrican....American....Kid
the battery of the
song
'Racism....what is up man....racism
slavery...man.... segregation..'
wont hold...
it is dying....out....
and we do not sell
and make
these type of old stuff batteries....
anymore.
your only two exits....are:
first,
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poem by Atef Ayadi
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Homework
Homage to Kenneth Koch
If I were doing my Laundry I'd wash my dirty Iran
I'd throw in my United States, and pour on the Ivory Soap,
scrub up Africa, put all the birds and elephants back in
the jungle,
I'd wash the Amazon river and clean the oily Carib & Gulf of Mexico,
Rub that smog off the North Pole, wipe up all the pipelines in Alaska,
Rub a dub dub for Rocky Flats and Los Alamos, Flush that sparkly
Cesium out of Love Canal
Rinse down the Acid Rain over the Parthenon & Sphinx, Drain the Sludge
out of the Mediterranean basin & make it azure again,
Put some blueing back into the sky over the Rhine, bleach the little
Clouds so snow return white as snow,
Cleanse the Hudson Thames & Neckar, Drain the Suds out of Lake Erie
Then I'd throw big Asia in one giant Load & wash out the blood &
Agent Orange,
Dump the whole mess of Russia and China in the wringer, squeeze out
the tattletail Gray of U.S. Central American police state,
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poem by Allen Ginsberg
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A Valediction Of Weeping
Let me pour forth
My tears before thy face, whilst I stay here,
For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear,
And by this mintage they are something worth,
For thus they be
Pregnant of thee;
Fruits of much grief they are, emblems of more,
When a tear falls, that thou falls which it bore,
So thou and I are nothing then, when on a diverse shore.
On a round ball
A workman that hath copies by, can lay
An Europe, Afric, and an Asia,
And quickly make that, which was nothing, all;
So doth each tear
Which thee doth wear,
A globe, yea world, by that impression grow,
Till thy tears mix'd with mine do overflow
This world; by waters sent from thee, my heaven dissolved so.
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poem by John Donne
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A Valediction: Of Weeping
Let me pour forth
My tears before thy face, whilst I stay here,
For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear,
And by this mintage they are something worth.
For thus they be
Pregnant of thee;
Fruits of much grief they are, emblems of more;
When a tear falls, that thou fall'st which it bore;
So thou and I are nothing then, when on a divers shore.
On a round ball
A workman, that hath copies by, can lay
An Europe, Afric, and an Asia,
And quickly make that, which was nothing, all.
So doth each tear,
Which thee doth wear,
A globe, yea world, by that impression grow,
Till thy tears mix'd with mine do overflow
This world, by waters sent from thee, my heaven dissolvèd so.
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poem by John Donne
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America, America
We raised our hats to you, Mr Lincoln.
We believed every word that you said.
And when life spilled into darkness
in a night of theatre,
we believed, even though you were dead.
From the decay that was Europe, we sent you our sons
to escape from a thousand-year prison called home;
from money and serfdom and warfare and guns;
from Ireland and Germany, Russia and Rome.
We believed, Mr Lincoln. We knew. We could wait.
From the slave-fields of Africa, we heard all men are equal
and America, like God, would apply it that way.
And having applied it, would insist on the sequel;
that all men were free in this African day.
From Asia, the bent backs of our human machines
learned of machines that would give them their rest;
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poem by Brian Taylor
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The Mountain And Us
the double cab climbs the road
for hours
our purpose is only to
see the highest
mountain in Asia
when we arrive there
it is cold
but the sun is shining brightly
the panoramic view
is clear and
accurate to the eyes
it is Li Po
drunk who is
imagining things
the mountain is not staring
at me
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The New Zealot To The Sun
Persian, you rise
Aflame from climes of sacrifice
Where adulators sue,
And prostrate man, with brow abased,
Adheres to rites whose tenor traced
All worship hitherto.
Arch type of sway,
Meetly your over-ruling ray
You fling from Asia's plain,
Whence flashed the javelins abroad
Of many a wild incursive horde
Led by some shepherd Cain.
Mid terrors dinned
Gods too came conquerors from your Ind,
The book of Brahma throve;
They came like to the scythed car,
Westward they rolled their empire far,
Of night their purple wove.
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poem by Herman Melville
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1887
From Clee to heaven the beacon burns,
The shires have seen it plain,
From north and south the sign returns
And beacons burn again.
Look left, look right, the hills are bright,
The dales are light between,
Because 'tis fifty years to-night
That God has saved the Queen.
Now, when the flame they watch not towers
About the soil they trod,
Lads, we'll remember friends of ours
Who shared the work with God.
To skies that knit their heartstrings right,
To fields that bred them brave,
The saviours come not home to-night:
Themselves they could not save.
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poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Elizabethan Ode - French and English Alliteration Acrostic
ELIZABETHAN ODE
Eye evidence, essential essence, eliminate evanescence.
Life links leal, lifts local level label, lets loyal love thrill, spill, spell swell well.
Iraqi illuminati, in ideal Irani idyll insight, intuitively identify pi.
Zephyrs zigzag Fez, Zion, Jerez zoom z zones, Cortez’
America, Africa, Asia, and Australasia, award Aisha ahura aura
Beauty’s baobub boob bulb baits breath, - throb blurb brain bomb.
Elate, elevate exquisite elite, emanate effervescence.
Total trust, trait tact, traps tart test threat, - that toast taught taut thought text tract triumphant.
Hurrah hath harmony hatch. Happiness here holdeth heavenly hope high
Essence est vie et l’harmonie, en elle
Laissant le lien loyal, réel miel du ciel.
Image aussi infinie ici ira
Zephyr voyagez, voyez, vivez!
Aura ardeur, là attendra, aimera
Beauté bien brillante bannira bla, bla!
Exquise est voie esquissée – espère énergie, émoi et joie
Tenant tête – tâtant terrain, tout test totalement transparent traduit toi[t] triomphant
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Manager's Perplexities
Were I a king in very truth,
And had a son - a guileless youth -
In probable succession;
To teach him patience, teach him tact,
How promptly in a fix to act,
He should adopt, in point of fact,
A manager's profession.
To that condition he should stoop
(Despite a too fond mother),
With eight or ten "stars" in his troupe,
All jealous of each other!
Oh, the man who can rule a theatrical crew,
Each member a genius (and some of them two),
And manage to humour them, little and great,
Can govern a tuppenny-ha'penny State!
Both A and B rehearsal slight -
They say they'll be "all right at night"
(They've both to go to school yet);
C in each act MUST change her dress,
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poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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