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Tears of the Gods!

Once he wore his nine-tasselled towel
around his hip bearing a drum at front of his midrif
he would sing aloud to invoke Lord Ayyanar,
half-buried at the outer base of the bund
of our village rain-fed tank,
to help him beating the drum
for moving the feet of his three daughters
with parrot-topped brass pots over their heads.
People near and far took his troop
at the time of festivals, being mesmerized
by the mavis of his dancing angels. 11

But he never gave up the service
of drumming up on the ghouls-howling tank bund
when the moon was out and hid.
The sound could be heard
by the sleepless elders of our village.
He would swim across the river
and reach the village on the other bank

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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Classic Dance Steps

“Would you?
Like to see
your coloured cousins?
Rule The World! ”

Look at yourself.
Surprised? Shocked?
By what you see?
“All You Have To Do Is Follow.”

“Would you like to see?
Your coloured cousins?
Rule the World?
All You Have To Do Is Follow.”

The Dance Master. Mass Puppet.
Conductor! Conspirator! Siren who stole!
Dictatorial hypnotic lead regimented regime!

Highlighted in hysteria horrific history.

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Trash Bag

1 bag cement mold
10 inch leather titleist golf bag
2006 kia rio side air bags
1900 s tapestry bag
1,000 face value silver bag buyers
100ft x 200ft plastic bag
16 flow-through infuser bags order e-mail
2001 accura air bags
1966 chevy pickup air bags
1st responder bag subdued
40 catchers equipment bag
10 dolars chanell bags for sale
$20,000 beanie bag
2 004 ben hogan golf bag
100 cotton childrens sleeping bags
2 mil designer bags
12 ounce bean bag
20 pound bag rabbit food
35 bag dirt james teen wendy
10 inch screen laptop bags

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Carrion

a Enemy soldier lies motionless
and his limbs are twisted,
reaching for the last
energy of live
and a hand still holds a gun.

Blood and guts
are splattered about,
where a mortar bomb
hit home
and some flies gather.

The strong sulphur smell
mixed with fried human
burns my nose,
where smoke rises
from a shot out
enemy battle tank.

Another tank stand moveless

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poem by Gert Strydom
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Abdul Hameed

As a plan of defence and to reply enemy's attacks
On grenadier's positions, being repeatedly made,
He occupied a vital area in the new defence plan,
A firm hold on that place was essential to sustain.

Serious threat developed, as the enemy attacked
With regiment of tanks, intense artillery preceded;
Shelling so heavily that shells littered every yard,
In defence positions, foe's tanks penetrated forward.

Hamid, commanding a recoilless gun detachment
Seeing gravity, moved to stop the tank regiment
In gun mounted jeep disregarding personal safety,
Taking his position he knocked out a tank of enemy.

Intense enemy shelling and tank fire couldn't deter
His sustained act of bravery knocked out an other;
One by one he knocked out six with accurate fire,
Then changed his position for seventh, with dare.

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poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Think-tank! Sink-sank! A LONELY PINK ROSE Shrinks in the Only Garden!

Drifting in the lonely redwoods, I met a monstrous leviathan
By switching his homes and names - hermit and egotist heinous
Loner, sequester and seclusionist are his names - atrocious!
Lonely dybbuk visits every home gifting a rocket to you and me,
Think-tank! Sink-sank! A lonely pink rose shrinks in only garden!

I'm taking blows of west wind in barren land, cries a lone hand;
I'm sitting with empty ache; I'm a fruitcake in the lonely land!
I'm a blue star in the night sky; lonely car in the lonely street.
In darkness, I'm in rivers of blood and fears; is it solo treat?
Think-tank! Sink-sank! A lonely pink rose shrinks in only garden!

Lonely I am, I sit and stare; stand and care, yet a lonely stick!
Lonely I am, I feel pain; I cry my eyes out with lonely lipstick!
Lonely I am, like it or hate it, I feel and deal in lonely date;
I don't want to be lonely, I'm with me yet I'm alone, is it fate?
Think-tank! Sink-sank! A lonely pink rose shrinks in only garden!

Today I'm in sorrow, I don't know tomorrow, sings a lone sparrow;
Lonely in the morning I wake in the life of fake for lonely sake;

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poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Old Town Types No. 16 - Mr Tank

'Twice one are two; twice two are four.'
I can still hear it floating thro' the old school door:
Those childish voices falling, rising in rhythmic chant,
In a room where heat is prevalent and ventilation scant.
'Twice nine are eight-teen.' And, presiding o'er the scene,
Like a demon in a 'panto,' blackavised and racked with pain,
Urging on the chorus faster, towers Mr Tank, the master,
With his mutton-chop whiskers and his cane
His cruel, thrice-accursed rattan cane.

Some incurable affliction soured his spirit, it was said;
For, above his brow, an ever-present plaster decked his head.
'Twice one are two; twice two are four -'
And suddenly the master disappeared behind the door.
For 'twas said, too, his affection had instilled a predilection
For too-frequent nips of liquor on the sly now and again.
And they boded fell disaster for gaunt Mr Tank, our master,
With his mutton-chop whiskers and his cane
His ever-swinging, torture-bringing cane.

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Disparity

Why do we call it disparity?
Do we fail and lack clarity?
Or merely feel it is charity,
what is the answer for parity?

We never stooped below and sank,
some smarts get together and call it think tank,
we have divergent views and live in opposite bank
never try to find out why are we so frank?

Alas! God had some ideas coming very late,
but we recreated it and added hate
still not think it improper and appreciate,
human values so down and depreciated,

Can we not remain one and swim?
blame no one and just pray only HIM
do our duty and not miss the object prime,
think not different and consider it crime,

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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My Wife

My lifes in jeopardy
My lifes in jeopardy
Murdered in cold blood is what Im gonna be
Murdered in cold blood is what Im gonna be
I aint been home since friday night
I aint been home since friday night
And now my wife is coming after me
And now my wife is coming after me
Give me police protection
Give me police protection
Gonna buy a gun so
Gonna buy a gun so
I can look after number one
I can look after number one
Give me a bodyguard
Give me a bodyguard
A back belt judo expert with a machine gun
A back belt judo expert with a machine gun
Gonna buy a tank and an aeroplane
Gonna buy a tank and an aeroplane

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song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Trial by Jury

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

THE LEARNED JUDGE
THE PLAINTIFF
THE DEFENDANT
COUNSEL FOR THE PLAINTIFF
USHER
FOREMAN OF THE JURY
ASSOCIATE
FIRST BRIDESMAID

SCENE - A Court of Justice, Barristers, Attorney, and Jurymen
discovered.

CHORUS

Hark, the hour of ten is sounding:
Hearts with anxious fears are bounding,
Hall of Justice, crowds surrounding,

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poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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