Faulkner Going Home
Faulkner writes at a New Orleans café
Dust and floorboards with cockroaches
Coffee like pain from the slave trade
French rolls, wrought iron in the warm rain
Spanish gables sigh like lost angels
We are the immaculate children of Tolstoy
Dreams of William Blake
Bayou of the damned
Napoleon dies marooned like a pauper
Mice and men screams like a prophecy
Your lovely breasts belong to the working class
You run from every proletariat poet
Bridges like leather swamps
Magnolia eyes hidden beneath English men
Celtic mountains like pockets of gold
She smiles like the French Quarter
We walk brick streets made from conquistadors
Across the square their playing strip tease
Winners dance like Chloe’s of the Marquis de Sade
Abducted to serve in the army of Columbus
Languages sired by the Voyageurs
Voyeurs of silk, John Steinbeck writes
Exhibitionist crippled with religion
We talk like strangers on a slave ship
Here comes the moon like a reservation
Can you feel the balms of Incas?
Towers of pagan blood
Art from the West Indies
Cajun gumbo and late night chess
Fires and old streetcars
Rituals as deep as fornication
Nothing hollow tonight, nothing shallow
All the sacrifices are over
All the Geranimos gone
All the ghosts in the wild wind
Vicksburg and Atlanta burn
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Down To New Orleans
Hey creole darlin
Talk that french to me
You know your love is somethin
Like I aint never seen
Im goin down, down, down, down to new orleans
Your eyes shine line diamonds
And those kisses sure make me scream
There aint nothin like love on the bayou
Honey I know you know what I mean
Im goin down, down, down, down to new orleans
Im goin down, down, down, down to new orleans
Chorus:
They got the gumbo and the creole
They got the quarter all night long
I got my delta queen that makes my heart sing
Man I aint never goin home
Im goin down, down, down, down to new orleans
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Must
She writes as if there’s not much time.
She writes to pain, to happiness,
She writes to every remote detailed thought.
She writes to the departed,
to the extant,
to poverty,
to wealth.
She writes to mourn, and grief.
She writes to the wind, the rain,
forest, the desert, and mountains.
She writes to her pouring tears,
to her grateful moments,
She writes because really what she has is time.
She has no little ones to feed, or bathe,
nor a husband to make happy. To write is
to escape- to her. Time is not a problem, time
is just a killing system, she needs to kill in many words.
She writes as if there’s not much time.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soul Cleansing
Rescued in chains of solemn ice
Balance pivots on the fence
Walk where things do not exist
Universal mind coherent in blue
Solomon’s Porch resides in gold leaf
Peace and dharma exalts the weary
Everything is separate and out of tune
Caldrons of Asian finance
Platforms of forums, Philo writes
Placid monasteries with Gregorian eyes
Jackson Pollack is inebriated
Back to the broken base
Slaves build the union
He writes an ode to his pride
She garbles words of veneer
Walls higher than the tower of Babel
Everything bathed in pretense
Sophistry shines like a Greek oracle
Alliances between the mundane
Mars gleams with angry throats
Mobs quietly gather for the execution
Blood writhes with hot new voices
We embrace the rich as they oppress
Welcome the rich with their bloody boots
Bogotá’s robbed with fools gold
The drone of dead minarets
Nero kills Cicero everyday
Ancient theatre of the absurd cries
No base, no morals, no foundations
Exodus in the valley of dead bones
Stripped in the desert of German enlightenment
Self made worlds that crumble into dust
Rimbaud leaves his chaos
A sound revels like agile hummingbirds
The mind sees eternal colors
Leave these lost temples
Light reveals the coming kingdom
Ezra Pound is exiled like a fountain
All this red orange war
Mountains tear with crystal pain
Diamonds melt with fierce envy
Balzac rests with timeless flowers
Faustian summer ripe with asps
Steeples crumble with Nietzsche
Sirens of the new order
Cries of the oblique sphinx
Napoleon marooned by Hegel
Herds shall rule
Herds shall embrace chaos
Herds shall be made into docile graves
Apothecary eyes dream like steel
Lavender ropes lavish her prison
No windows to view the ruins
Angst angels with bright whips
Couched in crippled men of doubt
Torn asunder with self affirmation
Paradoxes of dusky incest
Belong to every crowd
Lyrics like swamps in the sycamores
Ghosts abound waiting for the lonely
Trampled on by all these shallow smiles
Illusions fill with special secrets
Cantatas rock the forbidden night
Fire latches your sons and daughters
Moon fire reaches with painted fingernails
Hedonism like a new blind river
Roses on fire with wet sheets
Flowers sing and dance
All this cold despair is buried
Hour of Venus comes with lightening
Hear the sweet wolves waiting
These wounds shall heal
Now the rain comes with endless pain
Thunder from all the nations
Run for meaning on childhood walls
Romance understands the dire night
Meet me at the train station
Heading east with temperance blown
Satyr of existentialism
Cleansed by iniquity
Broken vessels gather for the shoreline
Thy will be done shines like a mantra
Disappointment turns into streets of gold
The soul must be cleansed
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aladdin and the Jinn
"Bring me soft song," said Aladdin.
"This tailor-shop sings not at all.
Chant me a word of the twilight,
Of roses that mourn in the fall.
Bring me a song like hashish
That will comfort the stale and the sad,
For I would be mending my spirit,
Forgetting these days that are bad,
Forgetting companions too shallow,
Their quarrels and arguments thin,
Forgetting the shouting Muezzin:"--
"I AM YOUR SLAVE," said the Jinn.
"Bring me old wines," said Aladdin.
"I have been a starved pauper too long.
Serve them in vessels of jade and of shell,
Serve them with fruit and with song:--
Wines of pre-Adamite Sultans
Digged from beneath the black seas:--
New-gathered dew from the heavens
Dripped down from Heaven's sweet trees,
Cups from the angels' pale tables
That will make me both handsome and wise,
For I have beheld her, the princess,
Firelight and starlight her eyes.
Pauper I am, I would woo her.
And--let me drink wine, to begin,
Though the Koran expressly forbids it."
"I AM YOUR SLAVE," said the Jinn.
"Plan me a dome," said Aladdin,
"That is drawn like the dawn of the MOON,
When the sphere seems to rest on the mountains,
Half-hidden, yet full-risen soon."
Build me a dome," said Aladdin,"
That shall cause all young lovers to sigh,
The fullness of life and of beauty,
Peace beyond peace to the eye--
A palace of foam and of opal,
Pure moonlight without and within,
Where I may enthrone my sweet lady."
"I AM YOUR SLAVE," said the Jinn.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Will Play For Gumbo
By: jimmy buffett
I dont smoke I dont shoot smack
But I got a spicy monkey riding on my back
Dont eat beignets too much sugar and dough
But I will play for gumbo
Hey I will play for gumbo
It started in my grandmas in her kitchen by the sea
She warned me when where she told me son the first ones free
It hit me like a rock or some taekwondo
Cause I will play for gumbo
Oh yeah I will play for gumbo
A piece of french bread with which to wipe my bowl
Good for the body, good for the soul
Its a little like religion and a lot like sex
You should never know when youre gonna get it next
At midnight in the quarter or noon in thibodaux
I will play for gumbo
Yes, I will play for gumbo
Im not talking quesadillas or a dozen krispy kremes
Or a pile of caviar thats a rich mans dream
No banana split or filet of pompano
No, I will play for gumbo
Yeah, I will play for gumbo
A piece of french bread with which to wipe my bowl
Good for the body, good for the soul
Its a little like religion and a lot like sex
You should never know when youre gonna get it next
It could be its that sausage or those pretty pink shrimp
Or that popcorn rice that makes me blow up like a blimp
Maybe its that voodoo from marie laveau
But I will play for gumbo
Hey I will play for gumbo
Now the sauce boss makes his cookin on the stage
Singing and a-picking for his nightly wage
Sweating and a frettin from his head to his toe
Playin and swayin with the gumbo
Prayin and buffetin with the gumbo
A piece of french bread with which to wipe my bowl
Good for the body, good for the soul
Its a little like religion and a lot like sex
You should never know when youre gonna get it next
>at midnight in the quarter or noon in thibodaux
I will play for gumbo
Hey I will play for gumbo
I will play for gumbo
I will play for gumbo
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cajun Born
I was born on the bayou
Thirty miles of Layfayette
My daddy was a cajun man
Lord he taught us how to plow
I remember mama's breakfast
Cush Cush and a Kaye
Being served on a Banyee
Oh, I wish I had some now.
I'm a cajun born
I'm a cajun bred
When I die
I'm a cajun dead
If I die in Alaska
If I die in Ohio
This soul will find its way
Back to the bayou.
We went to church every sunday
We had a French speaking preacher man
Joked about the preacher man
'Cause we thought he wore a dress.
After church we had a party
We played the music on the phonograph
We had a man singing Jole Blan
Made a sinner out of me.
I'm a cajun born
I'm a cajun bred
When I die
I'm a cajun dead
If I die in Alaska
If I die in Ohio
This soul will find its way
Back to the bayou.
When I'm ready to be married
I'm going to be this cajun lady
Some sorta like my mamma
'Cause there ain't no other kind.
'Cause there ain't no other kind.
Wherever fortune takes me
If it makes me or it breaks me
It's memories will forsake me
Louisiana on my mind.
I'm a cajun born
I'm a cajun bred
When I die
I'm a cajun dead
If I die in Alaska
If I die in Ohio
This soul will find its way
Back to the bayou.
If I die in Alaska
If I die in Ohio
This soul will find it's way
Back to the bayou...
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Haunted Song
Beneath this citadel of broken dreams
The hollow dungeons lie,
Each night you hear the awful screams
While the moon bellows in the sky.
There is no hope for Maud and me,
We know we're going to die,
No saint will come and set us free
While the moon bellows in the sky.
We've spent our love and shed our tears
And heard the angels sigh,
No-one will ever count our years
While the moon bellows in the sky.
So now you know why old men weep
And little children cry,
They block their ears and cannot sleep
While the moon bellows in the sky.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Children Of The Damned
(harris)
Hes walking like a small child
But watch his eyes burn you away
Black holes in his golden stare
God knows he wants to go home
Children of the damned
(repeat another 3 times)
Hes walking like a dead man
If he had lived he would have crucified us all
Now hes standing on the last step
He thought oblivion well it beckons us all
Children of the damned
(repeat another 3 times)
Now it burns his hand hes turning to laugh
Smiles as the flame sears his flesh
Melting his face screaming in pain
Peeling the skin from his eyes
Watch him die according to plan
Hes dust on the ground what did we learn
Youre children of the damned
Your backs against the wall
You turn into the light
Youre burning in the night
Youre children of the damned
Like candles watch them burn
Burning in the light
Youll burn again tonight
Youre children of the damned
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jambalaya (On The Bayou)
(Hank Williams)
Goodbye Joe, me gotta go down the bayou
Me gotta go, pole the pirogue down the bayou
My Yvonne, sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an' a crawfish pie an' a fil'e gumbo
'Cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar an' be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Thibodaux, Fontaineaux, the place is buzzin'
Hey, an' the kinfolk come to see Yvonne by the dozen
Well, and-a dress in style, go hog wild an' be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an' a crawfish pie, an' a fil'e gumbo
'Cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio
Well a pick guitar, fill fruit jar an' be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou
Wanna settle down, far from town, get me a pirogue
Gonna catch all the fish in the bayou
Gonna swap my mon, to buy Yvonne, what she need-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya, an' a crawfish pie, an' a fil'e gumbo
'Cause, tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar an' be gay-o
Son of a gun, we're gonna have big fun on the bayou
(Transcribed by ear; corrections requested and welcomed!)
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghosts Of The Full Moon
Every moonbeam radiates joy
Sycamore trees in shadows of the sea
Savannah grass in green waves
Mystic winds blow the ancient souls
Let the fingers of night caress
Let the feelings sigh like a shaman
See the buffalo graze under the stars
Naked stars that pry memories
Stars of the future birth
Angel night where awe sails on time
We are temples
We are spiritual
We are part of the ghost world
Pearls of emerald waves
Seagulls fly like sailors souls
Onyx moon of silver ancestry
Valley of Kidron and golden tombs
Dreams walk the hallowed corridors
Touch the sacred wells deep in the sky
Irish fields green with souls
Ghosts of the Great Barrier Reef
Eyes like wandering lions
Buried inside the Great Wall of China
Castles along the Seines
Ships rise in the galaxies
Have you felt the shivers of the moors?
The ancient ones of the full moon
Villages appear in hallways of sleep
Words from the winds of love
Flaming swords with two edges
Gates where living waters flow
Caravans of stars
Desert visions
Black Sea silk
Her ecstasy is in a room of mirrors
Michael Angelo’s bust emanates
Rembrandt in the silent museum
Raphael grounded in sanity
Yellow lamp of ancient quills
Whale oil sires the ancient graves
Icy waves of the mariners vault
Stairways in a New Orleans house
Night as quiet as fear
Have your felt the river of night?
Have you seen green eyes stare?
Lovers feel a stranger in their bed
Do you believe in vampires? I do
Van Gogh was haunted
Soon you will hover
Soon we will be the night
Islands of Jules Verne
Opium dens of Calcutta
Tibetan monks chant
Impudent vengeance never sleeps
Sword of Spartacus revels in anger
Magnolia slaves of the plantations lair
Red eyes, keep a night light on
Avenues of Hades belladonna
Byron dressed in black velvet
Jim Morrison at a séance
Edgar Allen Poe knew the night
Indigo trees in the wind
Mango ghosts
The Nile where cobra’s laugh
Brazilian rosewood dreams
Spanish ghosts of Mediterranean blood
Tireless Volga a sage of time
Ethereal eyes like a slaughter
Tribes are wandering the silt fields
Mountains ghosts
Celtic rivers of the vivid mind
Can you feel their candles?
The wings of night flutter
Shadows merge breathing constellations
The wind blows the curtain lace
They gather in costumes under moonlight
Ghosts of the full moon
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jambalaya
Goodbye joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh
Me gotta go pole the pirogue down the bayou
My yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, well have good fun on the bayou
Jambalaya, a-crawfish pie and-a fillet gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my machez amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Thibodeaux, fountaineaux, the place is buzzin
Kinfolk come to see yvonne by the dozen
Dress in style, go hog wild, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya, a-crawfish pie and-a fillet gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my machez amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya, a-crawfish pie and-a fillet gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my machez amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Santa Ana
>from a tin roof top
The little boy did watch
The procession down through town
Through the museum
Where daniel walked with the devil
With them boys from the underground
Where the giants of science
Fight for tight control
Over the wild lands of new mexico
Sam houstons ghosts in texas
Fighting for his soul
And the town folks rest uneasy
Beneath the guns of kid cole
And the kid says: hey, wheres santa ana
He who could romance the dumb into talking
Take a chance with me tonight my contessa,
If it dont work out, I aint lame, I can walk
Now some folks they just cant take it
To the streets of this town
But sam easily can, and he lays his money down
Them cats in from the canyon
Strut their stuff in town
But theres only secret sinners here
Lord, theres only secret thieves
Only a fool would try to save
What the desert chose to leave
And now, hey there senorita,
With your playboys in their spanish bandanas
French cream wont soften them bullets baby
French kisses will not break your heart
Oh, painted night, set free with light
Glows outside the rainbow saloon
Match embraces with a spanish lady
Beneath a graduation moon
No more colleges, no more coronations
Some punks idea of a teenage nation
Has forced santa ana to change his stationfrom soldier to cartoon
And the giants of science
Spend their days and nights
Not with wives, not with lovers
But searching for the lights
They started in the desert on their helicopter flights
Just to be lost in the dust and the night
Ah, hey my contessa
In your juke joint rides
You always bring candy for the kids
Come waltz with me tonight senorita
cause only fools are alone on a night like this
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jambalaya
(hank williams)
Goodbye joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh
Me gotta go pole the pirogue down the bayou
My yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, well have good fun on the bayou
Jambalaya, a-crawfish pie and a fillet gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my machez amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Thibideaux, fountaineaux, the place is buzzin
Kinfolk come to see yvonne by the dozen
Dress in style, go hog wild, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya, a-crawfish pie and a fillet gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my machez amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jambalaya
Music & lyrics : hank williams
Goodbye, joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh.
Me gotta go, pole the pirogue down the bayou.
My yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fil* gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Thibodaux, fontaineaux, the place is buzzin,
Kinfolk come to see yvonne by the dozen.
Dress in style and go hog wild, me oh my oh.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fil gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Settle down far from town, get me a pirogue
And Ill catch all the fish in the bayou.
Swap my mon to buy yvonne what she need-o.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fil gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jambalaya
Goodbye joe, me gotta go down the bayou
Me gotta go, pole the pirogue down the bayou
My yvonne, sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an a crawfish pie an a file gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar an be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Thibodaux, fontaineaux, the place is buzzin
Hey, an the kinfolk come to see yvonne by the dozen
Well, and-a dress in style, go hog wild an be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an a crawfish pie, an a file gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio
Well a pick guitar, fill fruit jar an be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou
Wanna settle down, far from town, get me a pirogue
Gonna catch all the fish in the bayou
Gonna swap my mon, to buy yvonne, what she need-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya, an a crawfish pie, an a file gumbo
cause, tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar an be gay-o
Son of a gun, were gonna have big fun on the bayou
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jambalaya
(hank hiriam williams)
Good-bye joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh,
Me gotta go pole the pirogue down the bayou.
My yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh,
Son of a gun gonna have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya, crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
cause tonight i'm gonna see ma chère amie-o
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o,
Son of a gun gonna have big fun on the bayou.
Brother larry!
Fontainaux, thibodaux, the place is buzzin',
People come to see yvonne by the dozen.
Dress in style, go hog wild and be gay-o,
Son of a gun gonna have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya, crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
cause tonight i'm gonna see ma chère amie-o
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o,
Son of a gun gonna have big fun on the bayou.
Sister mary!
Jambalaya, crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
cause tonight i'm gonna see ma chère amie-o
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o,
Son of a gun gonna have big fun on the bayou.
Son of a gun gonna have big fun on the bayou!
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jambalay (On The Bayou)
JAMBALAYA
Goodbye, Joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh.
Me gotta go, pole the pirogue down the bayou.
My Yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh.
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
'cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Thibodaux, Fontaineaux, the place is buzzin',
kinfolk come to see Yvonne by the dozen.
Dress in style and go hog wild, me oh my oh.
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
'cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Settle down far from town, get me a pirogue
and I'll catch all the fish in the bayou.
Swap my mon to buy Yvonne what she need-o.
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
'cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
- Hank Williams
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Symbiotic Wine
Language of golden liquid
She drenches my mind
Validated like a lotus rain
Music sweet as an earth religion
Idolatry in her thighs
Wet dripping thighs
Flowing streams
Misty heaven in the mountains
Can chains be pleasure?
Bridled in unconscious dreams
Deep in the masks of pleasure
Ancient leather smiles
She calls me like a spell
Poetry in dark sultry tubes
Bliss calls in her curled toes
Nerve endings filled with silk
New Muse invades my blood
The sound of wolves like joy
I am hunted by my own desire
Crystal glass over flows
Symbiotic wine gold and warm
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Praise The War Machine
The death of the Omega pilots the war machine
We shall destroy the Earth
Rebuild it
None shall inherit it
Blood turned into fire
Made to drink like wine
Pile up the countless corpses and on them we shall dine
We praise you war machine
You've come to set us free
Run us throughout your jaws
Carry us off in your claws
Cut away body from soul
A slave freed from his master
Closing the spirit's eyes to embrace this earthly tie
Cut away body from soul
A slave freed from his master
Closing the spirit's eyes to embrace this earthly tie
We praise you war machine
You've come to set us free
Run us throughout your jaws
Carry us off in your claws
666
The Earth it shall burn bright tonight in our eyes
Praise the war machine
The Earth it shall burn right into our eye on this very night
Praise the war machine
Praise the war machine
Praise the war machine
Praise the war machine
Burn tonight
Burn tonight
Burn tonight
Burn tonight
Burn tonight
Burn tonight
Burn tonight
Burn tonight
Burn tonight
song performed by by Zao
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Regarding Art
Sometimes, I, too, tell the ah's
of my heart one by one
like the blood-red beads
of a ruby rosary strung
on strands of golden hair!
But my
poetry's muse
takes to the air
on wings made of steel
like the I-beams
of my suspension bridges!
I don't pretend
the nightingale's lament
to the rose isn't easy on the ears...
But the language
that really speaks to me
are Beethoven sonatas played
on copper, iron, wood, bone, and catgut...
You can "have"
galloping off
in a cloud of dust!
Me, I wouldn't trade
for the purest-bred
Arabian steed
the sixth mph
of my iron horse
running on iron tracks!
Sometimes my eye is caught like a big dumb fly
by the masterly spider webs in the corners of my room.
But I really look up
to the seventy-seven-story, reinforced-concrete mountains
my blue-shirted builders create!
Were I to meet
the male beauty
"young Adonis, god of Byblos,"
on a bridge, I'd probably never notice;
but I can't help staring into my philosopher's glassy eyes
or my fireman's square face
red as a sweating sun!
Though I can smoke
third-class cigarettes filled
on my electric workbenches,
I can't roll tobacco - even the finest-
in paper by hand and smoke it!
I didn't --
"wouldn't" -- trade
my wife dressed in her leather cap and jacket
for Eve's nakedness!
Maybe I don't have a "poetic soul"?
What can I do
when I love my own children
more
than mother Nature's!
Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk (1993)
poem by Nazim Hikmet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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