Only the tent pitched by your own hands will stand.
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In Tents
In Waltham, on a Soccer field
A city of pink tents was pitched.
A neighborhood with real thin walls
Some chat, some snore, some mainly itched.
In the distance, thunder rumbled.
Streaks of lightening split the sky
Soon, I knew, the rain would come here.
We must find shelter, you and I.
I am not the outdoors type-
Five star hotels are more my speed,
But out here on the soccer field
Tent building skills are what I need
I 'liberate' a sheet of tarp
To serve as floor for our domain
And with your help I pitched the tent
while laughing in the pouring rain.
Once inside the nylon bubble
(My shoes and clothes quite soaked with rain)
A tiny leak, a Chinese torture
Drop by dropp upon my brain..
Back out again into the Tempest
Back out across the sodden field
I’m seeking out a piece of plastic
to keep out the piss warm rain.
I return to our tent in triumph
A sheet of propylene I found
Is just the thing to keep the rain out
I plop down on the slick wet ground..
The woman in the tent beside us
Like a lusting Walrus snores,
But twenty miles this day behind us
I soon won’t care if Lions roar.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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For a while we lived in a tent we'd pitched inside his parents' house and we slept on pillows.
quote by Shelley Duvall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Comes The Revolution
The 'one percent' are tired
dealing with the unwashed masses
who harass them on Wall Street
while mostly sitting on their asses..
In a bold preemptive strike
by the favored one percent
The wealthy seized Zuccotti park
and there they pitched their tents.
It' s a very civil protest,
a catered call to arms.
Instead of drums and gongs,
an orchestra plays Brahms
English butlers with refined accents
now go from tent to tent
with champagne in fluted glass
for those who can pay rent.
The gilded age was long ago-
its passing, some lament.
We paper over losses now
by piling debt on debt.
When this house of cards comes down
as such are wont to do.
This land will have new masters
but it probably won't be you.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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And so they pitched the show to me. It sounded like a good idea. We pitched the show back, and got it sold and got it on the air. And that's kicking the tail.
quote by Judge Mills Lane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He used to have a tent show, a little tent show, and I thought I was going to get a job working one year on the tent show, but he closed it down and I never got to go out there, but anyway, he had a sax and played drums.
quote by Earl Scruggs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After A Dance At Malaga
In Malaga
at the base camp
you danced at some disco
and drank Bacardi
and coke and it was
well into the early hours
of the morning
when you left
with Mamie
tiptoeing between
tent ropes and the unlit
areas between
and she said
I can't find
where my tent is
and you said
I'd let you share mine
but that young army guy
is in mine
and three in a bed
is a bit cramped
but where is mine?
she said
searching around
touching tent ropes
as she went by
you stood watching
trying to decide
where your tent was
what are we to do?
she asked
let's go back
to the club
until it gets lighter
or we remember
where our tents are
you said
but I'm tired
she said
I want to go to bed
and sleep
you searched around
by the hedge of the field
and then said
wait
I know where
mine is now
and you led her
to the tent
and unzipped it
and there inside
was the army guy
fast asleep
you can come in here
if you like
you said
but she just stood there
in the semi dark
cussing into the night
come on in
and be quiet
you said
I want my tent
she said
I want my own bloody tent
ok go find it then
you said
and began to climb inside
wait
she said
in a hushed voice
and came over
to your tent
and looked in
what about him?
she asked
he's asleep
you replied
what will he say
and finds me here?
you gazed
at the sleeping soldier boy
his mouth open
his eyes closed
a soft snore
filling the air
either come in
or go elsewhere
you whispered
I can't
she said
not with him there
and so she turned
and wandered off
into the semi dark
another chance walking off
into the night
some things you hope for
you murmured
never come right.
poem by Terry Collett
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It's better to have a thousand enemies outside of the tent than one inside the tent.
It's Your Niche
Some people...
Rather sleep than leap.
Some people...
Can't get up on their own two feet.
And some people...
Seek defeat!
While some people...
Tease a sleaze to keep that peeped.
But it's your niche...
That must be pitched.
The one that fits.
And doesn't quit one bit.
Yes it's your niche.
That must be pitched.
The one that fits,
And doesn't quit one bit!
Some people...
Rather sleep than leap.
Some people...
Can't get up on their own two feet.
But it's your niche...
That must be pitched.
The one that fits.
And doesn't quit one bit.
Some people...
Seek defeat!
While some people...
Tease a sleaze to keep that peeped.
But it's your niche...
That must be pitched.
The one that fits.
And doesn't quit one bit.
Yes it's your niche.
That must be pitched.
The one that fits,
And doesn't quit one bit!
Some people...
Don't have a niche.
Some people...
Give up too easy and they quit.
Some people...
Don't have a niche.
Some people...
May have a scratch but have no itch.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Modern Love IV: All Other Joys of Life
All other joys of life he strove to warm,
And magnify, and catch them to his lip:
But they had suffered shipwreck with the ship,
And gazed upon him sallow from the storm.
Or if Delusion came, 'twas but to show
The coming minute mock the one that went.
Cold as a mountain in its star-pitched tent,
Stood high Philosophy, less friend than foe:
Whom self-caged Passion, from its prison-bars,
Is always watching with a wondering hate.
Not till the fire is dying in the grate,
Look we for any kinship with the stars.
Oh, wisdom never comes when it is gold,
And the great price we pay for it full worth:
We have it only when we are half earth.
Little avails that coinage to the old!
poem by George Meredith
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Epilogue
Part 1
a '69 Chevy truck,
making its way slowly
up the old logging road,
centipede crawl, the scent
of the pines...
to a small clearing,
where we set up camp.
pitched the tent,
gathered wood for the fire.
enough daylight left,
we began the climb,
up the steep grade
to the top...
the cry of the bobcat,
startles...
then laughter, and we
moved on up.
an old rattlesnake sunning,
careful, go 'round.
we stood on the face of rock,
looking down through the gorge.
the air pure and heady,
the silence overwhelmed.
two hawks gliding down
beneath us.
for a moment then,
timeless...
i'd almost forgotten,
till a few drops of rain
on this morning's windshield,
brought it all back!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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For I Am A Nomad
I have not lived in a house since i brought you up,
But rather been moving from tent to tent always from one place to another;
For i am a nomad and i brought you up,
So you are now matured enough to take up your own decisions today.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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We ought to be doing that with decent standard housing but if we have people who are absolutely on the streets in this case, I think it makes sense that tent cities are preferred to not having tent cities.
quote by Mike Lowry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vagabond You
You can't stop roaming,
from one end to the other.
The fatigued way's restless edge,
pushes you on the wall of Promises bay!
So, is your love.
Relentless, monotonous, dull;
Can't quench your thirst, all the way.
The roads, hills, desert,
everywhere, you make your,
unbound, compact, sojourn!
No tent, no, fireplace
or bread, wine could fill
your incessant life's lust.
Vagabond You,
no hands can shackle,
your Primitive hands.
poem by Debdarshana Sen
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Helping Hands
You gotta believe we can change the world
Don't turn a blind eye to tomorrow's world
But on the good side looking out
Don't take for granted the silent shout
The hands of time are rolling past
To turn the tide, we must move fast
Let's share the hope and pull some strings
We hold the answer this vision sings
They're holding on
But for how long
Let's set them free
Put your helping hands together rockin' on for survival
Gotta take a stand, time to make a plan, don't sit idle
We are the key to the dreams
It's not as hard as it seems
No
Get up and put your hands together
All your helping hands
Oh yeah
We're three steps down, you're two steps back
No more widgin' and that's a fact
A call to arms, let's take a stand
It's up to you to lend a helping hand
They're holding on
But for how long
Let's set them free
Put your helping hands together rockin' on for survival
Gotta take a stand, time to make a plan, don't sit idle
We are the key to the dreams
It's not as hard as it seems
No
Get up and put your hands together
All your helping hands, yeah
We're the thunder in the storm
That brings the winds of change
Together we can overcome
And start a brand new day
Put your helping hands together rockin' on for survival (Yeah yeah)
Gotta take a stand, it's time to make a plan, don't sit idle (No, no, no, no)
Put your helping hands together rockin' on for survival
Gotta take a stand, c'mon make a plan, don't sit idle (Oh!)
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballade Of The Royal Game Of Golf
There are laddies will drive ye a ba'
To the burn frae the farthermost tee,
But ye mauna think driving is a',
Ye may heel her, and send her ajee,
Ye may land in the sand or the sea;
And ye're dune, sir, ye're no worth a preen,
Tak' the word that an auld man'll gie,
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green!
The auld folk are crouse, and they craw
That their putting is pawky and slee;
In a bunker they're nae gude ava',
But to girn, and to gar the sand flee.
And a lassie can putt--ony she, -
Be she Maggy, or Bessie, or Jean,
But a cleek-shot's the billy for me,
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green!
I hae play'd in the frost and the thaw,
I hae play'd since the year thirty-three,
I hae play'd in the rain and the snaw,
And I trust I may play till I dee;
And I tell ye the truth and nae lee,
For I speak o' the thing I hae seen -
Tom Morris, I ken, will agree -
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green!
ENVOY.
Prince, faith you're improving a wee,
And, Lord, man, they tell me you're keen;
Tak' the best o' advice that can be,
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green!
poem by Andrew Lang
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The Himmaleh was known to stoop
481
The Himmaleh was known to stoop
Unto the Daisy low—
Transported with Compassion
That such a Doll should grow
Where Tent by Tent—Her Universe
Hung out its Flags of Snow—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Some autistic children cannot stand the sound of certain voices. I have come across cases where teachers tell me that certain children have problems with their voice or another person's voice. This problem tends to be related to high-pitched ladies' voices.
quote by Temple Grandin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hope is a broker
While he was stitching the tent of the world,
Fate cut the tent’s ropes of his very life
As the broker of Hope sold him for nothing.
He wasn’t aware Hope was a broker.
16.12.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Nomad
I have not lived in a house since i brought you up,
But rather i have been moving from tent to tent;
Because i am a nomad and i do move from place to place.
I brought you up this way and you have learnt a lot,
But you are matured enough to take up your own decisions.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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America–A Black Wall
(1)
The brand is that of Harnam Das, but the benefit goes to America
The fools are trying that the sun of America does not set.
The poor had tears in their eyes in the past, they are still in sorrow.
Birla is celebrating Diwali, but the oil burning in his lamp belongs to America.
All the oppressed of the world have discovered this secret,
That America has encamped under the shades of the wealthy.
America is just a broker, everybody knows this fact.
That’s why, O friend, I detest the name of America.
To live at the strength of others is not a manly thing.
We will recognise you Jalib, if you reject the obligation of America.
(2)
India belongs to me, and Pakistan too is mine.
But America has pitched its tent in both the countries.
While eating the wheat given in aid, we have been cheated.
Don’t ask us, how much we’ve praised America’s whims and vagaries.
Even then, this valley of flowers is surrounded by magazines.
India belongs to me, and Pakistan too is mine.
O Khan Bahadur, you must break ties with Englishmen.
Their hands have reached again up to our collars.
Macmillan could not be yours, how could you think that Kennedy is with you.
India belongs to me, and Pakistan too is mine.
This land, O dear friend, is the land of workers and peasants.
A few households won’t be allowed to rule this land.
How long will last the night of repression, the dawn is come.
India belongs to me, and Pakistan too is mine.
(Translated from the Urdu by: Arjumand Ara)
poem by Habib Jalib
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