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Telephone Conversation

Wednesday, January 23,2008
Week 10: Telephone Conversation by Wole Soyinka

Week 10 Dividing lines: Differences in Class, race, Gender and Ideology

Telephone Conversation
by Wole Soyinka


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I converse with my dog through ESP.

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Some things have to be believed to be seen.

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Denial for M'Lady Ann Beard

Why do we choose to rationalise
odd happenings we can’t explain.
The evidence of our own eyes
we all deny time and again.
I think it highly probable because
we do not understand.
Believing it impossible
we just dismiss it out of hand.
We do not really want to know
so we discount the evidence.
Which shows or merely tends to show
some humans have an extra sense.
So we pretend in self defence
that ESP is sheer nonsense..

27-Feb-09
http: // blog.myspace.com.poeticpiers

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Healing Hand for M lady Ernestine

I don’t conduct experiments
to prove established precedents
I try to keep an open mind
to things by science undefined.

I do accept telepathy
and other forms of ESP.
I see no reason to deny
Some may have this ability

Some heal by laying on of hand
a process no one understands
But one that works obviously.
The evidence is plain to see.

To see someone become pain free
when they have been in agony.
Though all the doctors are quite sure
that healers can’t provide a cure.

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Sensibility

The five senses of man
sight, smell, touch, taste and hearing
are mandatory.
This makes you feel expeallagrandatory,
For sight for seeing the funny side of life,
Smell for inhaling laughing gas,
Touch for touching the funny bone,
Taste for the good life and,
Hearing for a rib tickling joke.
The sixth sense ESP. is only for the few.
The lucky are blessed with the seventh sense,
A sense of humour.
Like the barman answering the lady penguin’s question
“Have you seen my husband he drinks here a lot? ”
“Lady we get lots of drinkers in here, what does he look like? ”
Most important of all
This humorous sense stands tall,
It opens your emotional sensibilities
So grab your lover for platform seven
To travel on the happy train,

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Why Worry?

Obsessive
Compulsive
Chronic
Worriers

I fear
there are
people
who waste
half their
lives.

Worrying
about preposterous
fanatical
things that usually
habitually
never happen.

Or if

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Communication

Friend of mine,
This form of communication...
May not be best.
As,
You are there with your styrofoam cup
And,
Here I am with mine..
There's so much string in between
And, sometimes..
Signals get crossed,
Messages blurred.
Though,
I must say..
This is better than the smoke signals
You've sent earlier
My way.
And, my use of ESP
Did neither of us any good..
You didn't get my messages.
And,

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Two Dogs Have I

For years we've had a little dog,
Last year we acquired a big dog;
He wasn't big when we got him,
He was littler than the dog we had.
We thought our little dog would love him,
Would help him to become a trig dog,
But the new little dog got bigger,
And the old little dog got mad.

Now the big dog loves the little dog,
But the little dog hates the big dog,
The little dog is eleven years old,
And the big dog only one;
The little dog calls him Schweinhund,
The little dog calls him Pig-dog,
She grumbles broken curses
As she dreams in the August sun.

The big dog's teeth are terrible,
But he wouldn't bite the little dog;

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Montreal Maree

You've heard of Belching Billy, likewise known as Windy Bill,
As punk a chunk of Yukon scum as ever robbed a sluice;
A satellite of Soapy Smith, a capper and a shill,
A slimy tribute-taker from the Ladies on the Loose.
But say, you never heard of how he aimed my gore to spill
(That big gorilla gunnin' for a little guy like me,)
A-howlin' like a malamute an' ravin' he would drill
Me full of holes and all because of Montreal Maree.

Now Spike Mahoney's Bar was stiff with roarin' drunks,
And I was driftin' lonesome-like, scarce knowin' what to do,
So come I joined a poker game and dropped a hundred plunks,
And bein' broke I begged of Spike to take my I.O.U.
Says he: "Me lad, I'll help ye out, but let me make this clear:
If you you don't pay by New year's day your wage I'll garnishee."
So I was broodin' when I heard a whisper in my ear:
"What ees zee trouble, leetle boy?" said Montreal Maree.

Now dance-hall gels is good and bad, but most is in between;
Yeh, some is scum and some is dumb, and some is just plumb cold;

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