Poetry

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Chieftains

What God is this
Who calls for vengeance
And rewards the taking
Of innocent lives?

What prayers are these
That ask forgiveness
For lesser sins
Than one that is offered?

What morals are these
That shape pain into hate
And prey upon suffering
For gross worldly gain?

That God would speak
And again bring the word
And remind these men
The tribe is not a temple.

5857. Seamus - 6/8/2007 7:58:24 PM

I have enjoyed these re-writes that you are doing for your chapbook, Sir Nu.

I quite like this last one, Chieftains. The anger is so sincere, so palpable, that it simply flows. And there is nothing I want to do when I read it but permit it to flow over me.

And this:

And remind these men
The tribe is not a temple

is powerful. Do you consider this a "political" piece? In any event, well done, Nu! It is good to see you.

And hello to Ulgine, alistair, Rick, wonk, jex, arky and anyone else who may be looking in. Mac, conas tá tú?

5858. Seamus - 6/8/2007 8:07:06 PM

For Mac:

An excerpt from Eavan Boland's "Colony":

Witness

Here is the city—
its worn-down mountains,
its grass and iron,
its smoky coast
seen from the high roads
on the Wicklow side.
From Dalkey Island
to the North Wall,
to the blue distance seizing its perimeter,
its old divisions are deep within it.
And in me also.
And always will be.
Out of my mouth they come:
The spurred and booted garrisons.
The men and women
they dispossessed.
What is a colony
if not the brutal truth
that when we speak
the graves open.

And the dead walk?

5859. NuPlanetOne - 6/25/2007 7:38:19 PM

Seamus…definitely political. All about me and all of us here, really, we are faced with our young ones contemplating enlistment. It’s hard to give advice and encouragement when we know that on average 3-4 troops meet an untimely end over there every day. Then, of course, how do we downplay patriotism and duty merely because it is a loved one who would offer themselves up to a tour of duty that surely includes harms’ way. On the one hand, I feel the evil of this war to be ghastly and illogical. Indefensible, suicidal, fundamental drones, that is, truly unique. On the other hand, I think of the insane diabolical logic of the Third Reich, and I realize that evil, however it puts its coat on, will always be the same enemy to freedom and democracy. Our vested, global, corporate interests, unfortunately, always seem to become a cottage industry and dissect the serpent evil into pieces that further their bottom line. Something like that Oz Oilman hiding behind George in his quiet corner over on Pennsylvania Ave. Human nature?

Then there is the grand cosmic significance of it all. Players just strutting the stage in this, the best of all possible worlds. Always good and evil, sick or sane. And there amongst it all, you and me scribbling our poems in hope of making it all sensible. Ha! 2 more pints, we’ll get it right. Always good to know you lurk here and about my friend, ciao.

5860. Seamus - 7/12/2007 9:20:01 PM

I know it's not exactly de rigueur to title a sonnet, but...


POEM: Molecular chaperones, like nuns, are an ugly nuisance but they have a job to do


Oh Sister Moira Agnes, you have failed
us so. To take us up and keep us whole—
God's use for you—why wouldn't you prevail?
Maeve's life and mine are now destroyed. The shoal—
we've dashed upon by lying on the hill.
To each other binding wrongwise, her site
so misaligned with my domain, yet still
lithe Maeve's pregnant from one misfolded night.
Oh how we wish you’d caught us there, you old
unloving nun—to fold us on our own,
to warn us both of fire and stone, to scold
us, scare and scatter young Maeve and me, alone.

Ora pro nobis—Agnes, in this same way,
with faithless hands—in hora mortis nostrae.


Seamus


(If that manner of nonsense can in any way be explained away, the best I suppose I can offer is that I've been about contemplating whether matters of physics and chemistry and biology and thermodynamics are all that foreign to those of life and love and war and death. Oh yes, and also a pony.)

5861. Ulgine Barrows - 7/13/2007 9:56:43 AM

Sorry to be a Beavis & Butthead, NuPlanetOne, but when I saw this

"Recall, squinting"

I did that heh-heh thing.
Squint, heh-heh. Getting older, getting different humor.

5862. Ulgine Barrows - 7/18/2007 8:44:31 AM

well dang, I wanted you to laugh with me, NuPlanetOne.

In other news, I defended Avril Lavigne lyrics on another discussion board.

So I could be digging a deeper hole, but probably not, since I am lifting upwards.

winky

5863. Ulgine Barrows - 7/18/2007 8:53:57 AM

Born and raised in Pineola, his mama believed in the Pentecost

She got the preacher to say some words so his soul wouldn't get lost

~Lucinda Williams

5864. Ulgine Barrows - 7/18/2007 9:02:59 AM

Didn't you think you were worth anything
See what you lost when you left this world, this sweet old world
See what you lost when you left this world, this sweet old world


~Lucinda Williams

5865. wabbit - 7/23/2007 3:28:48 PM

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

There was an old father of Dylan
Who was seriously, mortally illin'
"I want," Dylan said
"You to bitch till you're dead.
"I'll be cheesed if you kick it while chillin'."

5866. arkymalarky - 7/23/2007 5:01:06 PM

Great link. Thanks!

5867. Ulgine Barrows - 7/25/2007 6:40:53 AM

wabbit, thanks. That made me snort.

5868. Ulgine Barrows - 7/25/2007 6:45:00 AM

there was a wabbit of mote
who posted a hip-hop note
the others who read it
continued to spread it
the wabbit of mote now is world-note

5869. Ulgine Barrows - 7/25/2007 8:32:43 AM

I want to know you
I want to show you
I want to grow you
Inside of me
I want to see you
I want to free you
I want to be you
Inside of me


Love me 50,000 miles beneath my brain
Love me 50,000 times and then again

Can you love me with a thousand eyes?
Can you see right through my bones?
Can you kiss me with a thousand lips?
Can you melt a solid stone?
Can you hear me from a thousand miles
When you're screaming at the stars?
Can you pull me up to Jupiter
When I'm all hung up on Mars?
Burn my eyes with your flame
Let your world spin free
Let it go, baby
I'll do the same

5870. Ulgine Barrows - 7/25/2007 8:33:34 AM

~ Ten Years After, oopsie

5871. Ulgine Barrows - 7/25/2007 8:40:17 AM

They took me down the grading station
And they classified me zed
'Cause of over population
They told me that I would soon be dead
But I slipped out of the force field
And hid beneath the monorail
But the automatic blood hounds
Lord, they're soon hot along my trail
Now if I had been a scholar
With computer working hard
Then my molecular structure
Would not be on the grader's card
So, I know that they will get me
Put my index in the brain
Then, the atoms of my body
Will be disposed of, Lordy, down the drain
They took me down the grading station
And they classified me zed
'Cause of over population
They told me that I would soon be dead

5872. Ulgine Barrows - 7/25/2007 8:42:59 AM

More 10 Years After, after what?

I almost went into a diatribe, but no, it is not the time nor place.

5873. Seamus - 7/27/2007 8:45:28 PM

Ulgine,

Thank you for Ten Years After.

I quite like that lyric, particularly this:

Can you hear me from a thousand miles
When you're screaming at the stars?
Can you pull me up to Jupiter
When I'm all hung up on Mars?

5874. Seamus - 7/27/2007 9:01:14 PM

And wabbit, I liked that site as well. Thank you.

5875. Ulgine Barrows - 7/30/2007 9:57:44 AM

Lies, Lies

Poetry