THE HONEST POLITICIAN THE HONEST POLITICIAN It is with great inspiration That I compose this dedication And call on a certain incarnation Which should prove to be a sensation. It is with great expatiation That you compose inner commotion And call on a certain reaction Which should prove to be a connection. With all that are exerting concentration To the great words of my creation Like wide-eyed sheep to destruction You follow the pictures of my imagination. And when you leave this exhibition It will be with a need for contemplation On my many words of idealisation For a world with great skills of organisation. But if you still have the inner voice of preservation You will come to the realisation That the meaning of my incantation Is to create in you ... Frustration. -Angelique T. Vermaak
"Joe Stalin's Cadillac" by Camper Van Beethoven Joe Stalin's Cadillac This is Joe Stalin's Cadillac We're just drivin' 'round the block in Joe Stalin's Cadillac L.B.J.'s Cadillac L.B.J.'s Cadillac We're just peein' on the side of the road in L.B.J.'s Cadillac Aw, this is Somoza's Cadillac This is Somoza's Cadillac We're just drivin' 'round the block in Somoza's Cadillac General Pinochet's Cadillac General Pinochet's Cadillac Can't go left in General Pinochet's Cadillac Well my Cadillac Is Johnson's Cadillac Is Stalin's Cadillac Is Somoza's Cadillac Is General Pinochet's Cadillac and be referred to Reagan's Cadillac Gonna drive my Cadillac off a bridge Gonna drive my Cadillac of a bridge If I can find a bride I'll drive my Cadillac off a bridge Where's the bridge? Has anybody seen the bridge?
FIRSTBORN, by me FIRSTBORN My entire life; of it I was Reaganite and luddite. It has always moved to Teach while I moved beyond learning. Then, like a bone-felt thunderclap, resonating spine and spirit... Child. Son. Wish-fulfilling jewel. I want you to feel no pressure, no expectations. Just know that I know now. . .or is it remember? You live! And in that living you've set the Wheel of Teaching in motion, and we know that nothing, not the land nor the sea nor the people, like Gods, we choose to govern all that, and all of us, will ever be the same again. Your being illuminates, and we sit under the bodhi tree, Enlightened, defeating our demons. You will always be a reflection of The Incredible Lesson the Universe shares. Love Is Life Is Love, unending. Thank You.
Made it My Sig... This poem - of which this is only a part - launched the group "The Last Poets" in Harlem, which influenced directly the birth of hip-hop in NYC... When the moment hatches in time’s womb there will be no art talk. The only poem you will hear will be the spearpoint pivoted in the punctured marrow of the villain....Therefore we are the last poets of the world." -Koerapetse "Willie" Kgositsile
Creedence Clearwater Revival Some folks are born made to wave the flag, Ooh, they're red, white and blue. And when the band plays "Hail to the chief", They point the cannon at you It ain't me, it ain't me I ain't no senator's son It ain't me, it ain't me I ain't no fortunate one Some folks are born silver spoon in hand, Lord, don't they help themselves But when the taxman comes to the door, The house looks like a rummage sale It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son It ain't me, it ain't me I ain't no fortunate one Some folks inherit star spangled eyes, They send you down to war And when you ask them, "How much should we give?" They only answer "More and more and more" It ain't me, it ain't me I ain't no military son It ain't me, it ain't me I ain't no fortunate one It ain't me, it ain't me I ain't no fortunate one It ain't me, it ain't me I ain't no fortunate son
A Satirical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General A Satirical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General His Grace! impossible! what dead! Of old age too, and in his bed! And could that mighty warrior fall? And so inglorious, after all! Well, since he's gone, no matter how, The last loud trump must wake him now: And, trust me, as the noise grows stronger, He'd wish to sleep a little longer. And could he be indeed so old As by the newspapers we're told? Threescore, I think, is pretty high; 'Twas time in conscience he should die. This world he cumbered long enough; He burnt his candle to the snuff; And that's the reason, some folks think, He left behind so great a s---k. Behold his funeral appears, Nor widow's sighs, nor orphan's tears, Wont at such times each heart to pierce, Attend the progress of his hearse. But what of that, his friends may say, He had those honors in his day. True to his profit and his pride, He made them weep before he died. Come hither, all ye empty things, Ye bubbles raised by breath of kings; Who float upon the tide of state, Come hither, and behold your fate. Let pride be taught by this rebuke, How very mean a thing's a Duke; From all his ill-got honors flung, Turned to that dirt from whence he sprung. Johnathan Swift
A lovely little War Song sung to the tune of "If You're Happy and You Know It"..... If you cannot find Osama, bomb Iraq. If the markets are a drama, bomb Iraq. If the terrorists are frisky, Pakistan is looking shifty, North Korea is too risky, Bomb Iraq. If we have no allies with us, bomb Iraq. If we think someone has dissed us, bomb Iraq. So to hell with the inspections, Let's look tough for the elections, Close your mind and take directions, Bomb Iraq. It's "pre-emptive non-aggression", bomb Iraq. Let's prevent this mass destruction, bomb Iraq. They've got weapons we can't see, And that's good enough for me 'Cos it's all the proof I need Bomb Iraq. If you never were elected, bomb Iraq. If your mood is quite dejected, bomb Iraq. If you think Saddam's gone mad, With the weapons that he had, (And he tried to kill your dad), Bomb Iraq. If your corporate fraud is growin', bomb Iraq. If your ties to it are showin', bomb Iraq. If your politics are sleazy, And hiding that ain't easy, And your manhood's getting queasy, Bomb Iraq. Fall in line and follow orders, bomb Iraq. For our might knows not our borders, bomb Iraq. Disagree? We'll call it treason, Let's make war not love this season, Even if we have no reason, Bomb Iraq.
politicians - they sound like strippers to me. They keep saying - but i don't wanna hear it ooh baby you want me? ooh baby you want me? ooh baby you want me? well you can get this lapdance here for free. That about sums it up.
Archaeology (W.H. Auden, August 1973.) The archaeologist’s spade delves into dwellings vacancied long ago, Unearthing evidence of life-ways no one would dream of leading now, concerning which he has not much to say that he can prove: the lucky man! Knowledge my have its purposes, but guessing is always more fun than knowing. We do know that Man, from fear or affection, has always graved His dead. What disastered a city, volcanic effusion, fluvial outrage, or a human horde, agog for slaves and glory, is visually patent, and we’re pretty sure that, as soon as palaces were built their rulers though gluttoned on sex and blanded by flattery, must often have yawned. But do grain-pits signify a year of famine? Where a coin-series peters out, should we infer some major catastrophe? Maybe. Maybe. From murals and statues we get a glimpse of what the Old Ones bowed down to, but cannot conceit in what situations they blushed or shrugged their shoulders. Poets have learned us their myths, but just how did They take them? That’s a stumper. When the Norsemen heard thunder, did they seriously believe Thor was hammering? No, I’d say: I’d swear that men have always lounged in myths as Tall Stories, that their real earnest has been to grant excuses for ritual actions. Only in rites can we renounce our oddities and be truly entired. Not that all rites should be equally fonded: some are abominable. There’s nothing the Crucified would like less than butchery to appease Him. Coda From Archaeology one moral, at least, may be drawn, to wit, that all our school text-books lie. What they call History is nothing to vaunt of, being made, as it is, by the criminal in us: goodness is timeless.
jp, Is that an original? Fantastic stuff... The one line that needs work is the "For our might knows not our borders" one. Kind've a mouthful. I'm thinking of printing up copies of this and bringing them to my next peace rally. We need more laughs at those things.
There once was an Ass Clown named Universal... Ok, admittedly it's not quite finished yet but, you must admit, it has one helluva start!
GOVERNMENT, Carl Sandburg (1878–1967) GOVERNMENT THE GOVERNMENT—I heard about the Government and I went out to find it. I said I would look closely at it when I saw it. Then I saw a policeman dragging a drunken man to the callaboose. It was the Government in action. I saw a ward alderman slip into an office one morning and talk with a judge. Later in the day the judge dismissed a case against a pickpocket who was a live ward worker for the alderman. Again I saw this was the Government, doing things. I saw militiamen level their rifles at a crowd of workingmen who were trying to get other workingmen to stay away from a shop where there was a strike on. Government in action. Everywhere I saw that Government is a thing made of men, that Government has blood and bones, it is many mouths whispering into many ears, sending telegrams, aiming rifles, writing orders, saying “yes” and “no.” Government dies as the men who form it die and are laid away in their graves and the new Government that comes after is human, made of heartbeats of blood, ambitions, lusts, and money running through it all, money paid and money taken, and money covered up and spoken of with hushed voices. A Government is just as secret and mysterious and sensitive as any human sinner carrying a load of germs, traditions and corpuscles handed down from fathers and mothers away back. Carl Sandburg (1878–1967)
In Salutation to the Eternal Peace In Salutation to the Eternal Peace By Sarojini Nayadu MEN say the world is full of fear and hate, And all life’s ripening harvest-fields await The restless sickle of relentless fate. But I, sweet Soul, rejoice that I was born, When from the climbing terraces of corn I watch the golden orioles of Thy morn. What care I for the world’s desire and pride, Who know the silver wings that gleam and glide, The homing pigeons of Thine eventide? What care I for the world’s loud weariness, Who dream in twilight granaries Thou dost bless With delicate sheaves of mellow silences? Say, shall I heed dull presages of doom, Or dread the rumoured loneliness and gloom, The mute and mythic terror of the tomb? For my glad heart is drunk and drenched with Thee, O inmost wine of living ecstasy! O intimate essence of eternity!
by Jeff Tweedy The cash machine is blue and green For a hundred in twenties and a small service fee I could spend three dollars and sixty-three cents On Diet Coca-Cola and unlit cigarettes I wonder why we listen to poets when nobody gives a ************ How hot and sorrowful, this machine begs for luck All my lies are always wishes I know I would die if I could come back new I want a good life with a nose for things the fresh wind and bright sky to enjoy my suffering A hole without a key if I break my tongue Oh, speaking of tomorrow, how will it ever come? All my lies are always wishes I know I would die if I could come back new I'm down on my hands and knees every time a doorbell rings I shake like a toothache when I hear myself sing All my lies are only wishes I know I would die if I could come back new I would like to salute the ashes of American flags And all the fallen leaves filling up shopping bags
Such Is the Death the Soldier Dies SUCH is the death the soldier dies: He falls,—the column speeds away; Upon the dabbled grass he lies, His brave heart following, still, the fray. The smoke-wraiths drift among the trees, The battle storms along the hill; The glint of distant arms he sees; He hears his comrades shouting still. A glimpse of far-borne flags, that fade And vanish in the rolling din: He knows the sweeping charge is made, The cheering lines are closing in. Unmindful of his mortal wound, He faintly calls and seeks to rise; But weakness drags him to the ground:— Such is the death the soldier dies. -Robert Burns Wilson
As I Sat Alone by Blue Ontario’s Shores - by Walt Whitman AS I sat alone, by blue Ontario’s shore, As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace return’d, and the dead that return no more, A Phantom, gigantic, superb, with stern visage, accosted me; Chant me the poem, it said, that comes from the soul of America—chant me the carol of victory; And strike up the marches of Libertad—marches more powerful yet; And sing me before you go, the song of the throes of Democracy. (Democracy—the destin’d conqueror—yet treacherous lip-smiles everywhere, And Death and infidelity at every step.) LONG; read the worthy rest of it here
SOLDATI Si sta come d'autunno sugli alberi le foglie Giuseppe Ungaretti Bosco di Courton, luglio 1918
La plegaria a un labrador - Victor Jara Levantate y mira la montaña de donde viene el viento, el sol y el agua tu que manejas el curso de los rios tu que sembraste el vuelo de tu alma. Levantate y mirate las manos para crecer estrachala a tu hermano. Juntos iremos unidos en la sangre hoy es el tiempo que puede ser mañana. Libranos de aquel que nos domina en la miseria. Traenos tu reino de justicia e igualdad. Sopla como el viento la flor de la quebrada. Limpia como el fuego el cañon de mi fusil. Hagase por fin tu voluntad aqui en la tierra. Danos tu fuerza y tu valor al combatir. Sopla como el viento la flor de la quebrada. Limpia como el fuego el cañon de mi fusil. Levantate y mirate las manos para crecer estrachala a tu hermano juntos iremos unidos en la sangre ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte amen, amen, amen. http://www.patriagrande.net/chile/victor.jara/ 11 de Septiembre de 1973: Víctor se dirige a la Universidad Técnica del Estado, su lugar de trabajo, donde cantaría en la inauguración de una exposición, desde la cual se dirigiría al país el Presidente Allende. Los militares rodean el recinto universitario ingresando a él el día siguiente, tomando detenidos a todos los profesores y alumnos que se encontraban en su interior. Víctor Jara es llevado al Estadio Chile y torturado. Muere acribillado el 16 de Septiembre, pocos días antes de cumplir 41 años. Su cuerpo es encontrado en la morgue como NN.
KAWL-LIGA by Hank Williams KAW-LIGA, was a wooden Indian standing by the door He fell in love with an Indian maid over in the antique store KAW-LIGA just stood there and never let it show So she could never answer "YES" or "NO". He always wore his Sunday feathers and held a tomahawk The maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped someday he'd talk KAW-LIGA too stubborn to ever show a sign Because his heart was made of knotty pine. Poor ol' KAW-LIGA, he never got a kiss Poor ol' KAW-LIGA, he don't know what he missed it any wonder that his face is red KAW-LIGA, that poor ol' wooden head. ... KAW-LIGA, was a lonely Indian never went nowhere His heart was set on the Indian maiden with the coal black hair KAW-LIGA just stood there and never let it show So she could never answer "YES" or "NO". Then one day a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid And took her, oh, so far away, but ol' KAW-LIGA stayed KAW-LIGA just stands there as lonely as can be And wishes he was still an old pine tree.
"I" - Public Enemy I Came From A Place I Forgot I Woke Up In A Parking Lot Far From A Meal & A Cot On The Corner Where All The Streets Got The Same Name Maybe My Brains On The Brink Of (Insane) Pain Between The Papers While Sleepin On The Train This The Land Of Milk And Honey Know What I’m Sayin The Invisible Man Times Three Black, Down & Out Out Standing On A Corner No Doubt Now A Nation Of Homeless Sleepin In Bus Stations Another Win For The Pilgrims Who Said No More Haitians As I Proceed Someone To Feed Me Is What I Need Through Three Blocks Of Dealers Tryin To Hit Me Off Wit Weed Avenue & Boulevard Hungry As A M-************a Hope To Get A Ride From A Trucker Everybody Know I Ain’t No Sucker Everyone Used To Drop 30 At The Rucker Away From Crazy Kids In Generation Wrekked Dissin Pyramids While Praisin Projects Walk Past Old Folks Gettin No Respect Callin Young Folks A Bunch A No Good Rejects And I Walk On An Eye For An Eye I Can’t Recognize The Man In The Mirror Is It I, It Is I Now Who This Cat I’m Lookin At Cause I’ve Been Waiting So Long To Get Where I’m Goin An For An Eye In This Country Tis Of Thee Now How The Hell Can I Be Free Who This Cat I’m Lookin At Cause I Been Lost So Long Without Anybody Knowin So I Move On And I Walk On Past The Preachers And The Pimps Gettin Their Talk On Now Why Do Home Gotta Be Where The Negative Roam To Be Or Not To Be - So I Roll Alone I’m Trapped Within This Skin & These Bones Temporary Kings On Cellular Phones Can I Last As I Walk Past Cigarette Billboards & Malt Liquor Ads Walkin On Broken Bottles & Potato Chip Bags Everyone I See Got The Nerve To Brag Where They From What They Got And Don’t Own Squat Disrespect Where They From And Ya Might Get Shot Zombies Askin Me What The Latest Bomb Be Should Shot The ************in Sheriff & The ************in Deputy For Ok In The Drug Trade And Lettin It Be But I Know Prison For Me Is An Industry So I Walk I Heard The Best Things In Life Be Free Didn’t God Make The Land The Air We Breathe Not For The Homeless Don’t Give A Damn About Me In The Mirror Somebody Else Is Starin At Me Maybe Prison Is The Skin I’m Within All This Time I Been Sufferin Can’t Fix It Wit A Bufferin Plus They Said I’ll Never Work In This Town Again Damn So I Keep On Walkin An Eye For An Eye I Can’t Recognize The Man In The Mirror Is It I, It Is I Now Who This Cat I’m Lookin At Cause I’ve Been Waiting So Long To Get Where I’m Goin An For An Eye In This Country Tis Of Thee Now How The Hell Can I Be Free Who This Cat I’m Lookin At Cause I Been Lost So Long Without Anybody Knowin Lil Day Day Is Big Day And Just Did Time Seen Him Standin On The Unemployment Line Which Collided Wit The Line Of The Health Clinic I Seen Crazy Stacy Her Ass Standin Up In It No More Welfare Cut Her Medicaid Damn My Mama Used To Do Her Braids I Keep Walkin So They Don’t See Me But I Doubt If They Doin Any Better Than Me So I Walk On Never Take The Planet For Granted I Paved The Concrete, Asphalt & Granite I Walk Past 3 Brothers Sittin On The Porch Wit A Yard Of Dirt And Littered Wit Newports Talkin How They Comin Up While They Sittin On Their Ass As I Walk Past Em I’m A Target Of Their Laughs And One Said Lets Get Em For His ************in Stash As I Walked Fast Past The Other Yards Wit Grass Had A Lil Cash Tried To Make It Last From A Few Deals I Made From Cleanin Windshields I Ran Like A Rally They Caught Me In An Alley Can’t Get Out The Ghetto From New York To Cali I Thought I Had Nuthin Till I Felt The Knife And Now I Ain’t Even Got A Life
Subterranean Homesick Blues Johnny's in the basement Mixing up the medicine I'm on the pavement Thinking about the government The man in the trench coat Badge out, laid off Says he's got a bad cough Wants to get it paid off Look out kid It's somethin' you did God knows when But you're doin' it again You better duck down the alley way Lookin' for a new friend The man in the coon-skin cap In the big pen Wants eleven dollar bills You only got ten Maggie comes fleet foot Face full of black soot Talkin' that the heat put Plants in the bed but The phone's tapped anyway Maggie says that many say They must bust in early May Orders from the D. A. Look out kid Don't matter what you did Walk on your tip toes Don't try "No Doz" Better stay away from those That carry around a fire hose Keep a clean nose Watch the plain clothes You don't need a weather man To know which way the wind blows Get sick, get well Hang around a ink well Ring bell, hard to tell If anything is goin' to sell Try hard, get barred Get back, write braille Get jailed, jump bail Join the army, if you fail Look out kid You're gonna get hit But users, cheaters Six-time losers Hang around the theaters Girl by the whirlpool Lookin' for a new fool Don't follow leaders Watch the parkin' meters Ah get born, keep warm Short pants, romance, learn to dance Get dressed, get blessed Try to be a success Please her, please him, buy gifts Don't steal, don't lift Twenty years of schoolin' And they put you on the day shift Look out kid They keep it all hid Better jump down a manhole Light yourself a candle Don't wear sandals Try to avoid the scandals Don't wanna be a bum You better chew gum The pump don't work 'Cause the vandals took the handles
TRAFITTO condotti da fragili desideri tra puro movimento ed immoto con sospetti automatiche simpatie nel bel mezzo del progresso di diversi colori tra i quali il nero il verde il moderno tifiamo rivolta, tifiamo rivolta nell'era democratica simmetriche luci gialle e luoghi di concentrazione nell'era democratiche strade lucide di pioggia splende il sole fa il bel tempo nell'era democratica mi ricordo di discorsi belli tondi e ragionevoli belli tondi e ragionevoli mi ricordo di discorsi trafitto sono, trapassato dal futuro cerco una persona che mi sia di cuscino fragili desideri fragili desideri a volte indispensabili a volte no MORIRE Non so dei vostri buoni propositi perchè non mi riguardano esiste una sconfitta pari al venire corroso che non ho scelto io ma è dell'epoca in cui vivo la morte è insopportabile per chi non riesce a vivere la morte è insopportabile per chi non deve vivere lode a Mishima e a Majakovskij tu devi scomparire anche se non ne hai voglia e puoi contare solo su di te produci, consuma, crepa sbattiti, fatti, crepa produci, consuma, crepa crepa riempiti di borchie sbattiti, fatti, crepa rompiti le palle cotonati i capelli rasati i capelli crepa.. crepa... crepa... crepa