Political Cannibalism
grass,
do not talk of honesty
there is none here
it is not a man
neither is it a woman
could be
an eunuch
that keeps things normal
by not saying
anything
it is the silence that is
honest
it is not her hands
for they do what
is not said anyway
so grass
do not give me that
quibble
there is none here
not even loyalty
welcome to
the politics of
survival
now
choose, eat,
do not
think.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Honesty verses loyalty
Loyalty is being honest to a person;
Honesty is being loyal to a cause.
Loyalty is being faithful
And honesty, being virtuous.
Kumbakarna was loyal;
Vibhishna was honest.
The world is run by loyalty
Rather than by honesty.
07.09.2009
[Kumbakarna and Vibhishna are yonger brothers of King Ravana in the Hindu epic Ramayana.]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Grass
Laying on the grass my heart it flares like fire
The way you slap my face just fills me with desire
You play hard to get
cause youre teachers pet
But when the boats have gone
Well take a tumble excuse for a fumble
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
If you fancy we can buy an ice-cream cone
Your mate has gone she didnt want to be alone
I will pounce on you
Just us and the cuckoos
You are helpless now
Over and over we flatten the clover
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
It would shock you too the things we used to do on grass
Grass, grass.
Things we did on grass
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grass
Laying on the grass my heart it flares like fire
The way you slap my face just fills me with desire
You play hard to get
cause youre teachers pet
But when the boats have gone
Well take a tumble excuse for a fumble
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
If you fancy we can buy an ice-cream cone
Your mate has gone she didnt want to be alone
I will pounce on you
Just us and the cuckoos
You are helpless now
Over and over we flatten the clover
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
It would shock you too the things we used to do on grass
Grass, grass.
Things we did on grass
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magic Lies In Silence Of Grass and In Your Voice
I am barefoot walking in the grass of morning,
The dew drops are comforting my feet,
I felt relieved by my stress and grief,
When i heard your voice in the grass rustling.
I lie down on grass and i could feel its silence,
I close my eyes and i enjoyed your voice,
The smell of grass was taken on the wings of wind,
Magic lies in silence of grass and in your voice.
Is amazing how much miracle stays in a blade of grass,
Opening my eyes i saw above the sky,
There was your face among the clouds smiling,
I had the feeling that i want to hug the sky.
I'm gonna miss you all the days of life,
And even when death will take my last breath,
Last thing i'll do passing to eternity,
I'm gonna miss you.
Winter will come, grass will fall asleep,
I 'll not hear the grass rustling anymore,
Only my memories with you will be always alive,
Rustling in my mind as grass did.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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There is nothing fantastic or ultradimansional about crab grass... unless you are an sf writer, in which case pretty soon you are viewing crab grass with suspicion. What are it's real motives And who sent it here in the first place It only looks like crab grass. That's what they want us to think it is. One day the crab grass suit will fall off and their true identity will be revealed. By then the Pentagon will be full of crab grass and it'll be too late. The crab grass, or what we took to be crab grass, will dictate terms.
quote by Philip K. Dick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In all honesty
In all honesty
today has been
something out of the ordinary.
In all honesty
I could do with some christmas carols
and a mug of hot chocolate.
In all honesty
walking on the road without a sidewalk
is more exhilerating than anything else.
In all honesty
watching fog settle over the road
can bring tears to anyones eyes.
In all honesty
you're the only person
I'm mostly honest to.
In all honesty
this poem
is entirely honest.
poem by Erica Francis
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In The Middle Of The Crowd
in the middle of the crowd
where there is so much noise
all mouths talking
with no one listening
all arms and hands
moving and shouting
and all feet walking to
and fro like grandfather's
clock's mechanical pendulum
when the world seems to be
crowded not just with people
but with words
dishonest words and other
things that we do not really mean
why not try the silence of the stars
outside this crowd
on the grass, soft, soft grass
with the wind, cool cool winds
why not try the silence of the stars
under the sky
why not spend a little time with
the moon
let us try silence for a while
who knows
this world may still have peace
who knows
our overbeating hearts may
find its needed rest
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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She Is Looking For The Simplicity Of You
she is looking for nothing but the simplicity
of the sea
the plain salt in water
you may even remove the bluish part of it
she is expecting nothing in the landscape
but only the grass on the hills
you may remove the house nearby
and the running brook
the moon at night need not even be there
the star can be dispensed with
you may only give her the darkness and the silence
of the grass and the hills
she is looking for nothing except that you
the one she loves must be there tonight
you may even dispense with the body
the hands and the face and the thighs
you may take them all away from her
she needs only the presence of your words
or even if you take the last word that you cannot give
you leave her the sigh unspoken by you
that will still suffice
she loves you and it is enough for her to last for another day
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sestina
I have come, alas, to the great circle of shadow,
to the short day and to the whitening hills,
when the colour is all lost from the grass,
though my desire will not lose its green,
so rooted is it in this hardest stone,
that speaks and feels as though it were a woman.
And likewise this heaven-born woman
stays frozen, like the snow in shadow,
and is unmoved, or moved like a stone,
by the sweet season that warms all the hills,
and makes them alter from pure white to green,
so as to clothe them with the flowers and grass.
When her head wears a crown of grass
she draws the mind from any other woman,
because she blends her gold hair with the green
so well that Amor lingers in their shadow,
he who fastens me in these low hills,
more certainly than lime fastens stone.
Her beauty has more virtue than rare stone.
The wound she gives cannot be healed with grass,
since I have travelled, through the plains and hills,
to find my release from such a woman,
yet from her light had never a shadow
thrown on me, by hill, wall, or leaves’ green.
I have seen her walk all dressed in green,
so formed she would have sparked love in a stone,
that love I bear for her very shadow,
so that I wished her, in those fields of grass,
as much in love as ever yet was woman,
closed around by all the highest hills.
The rivers will flow upwards to the hills
before this wood, that is so soft and green,
takes fire, as might ever lovely woman,
for me, who would choose to sleep on stone,
all my life, and go eating grass,
only to gaze at where her clothes cast shadow.
Whenever the hills cast blackest shadow,
with her sweet green, the lovely woman
hides it, as a man hides stone in grass.
poem by Dante Alighieri
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September Grass
Well, the suns not so hot in the sky today
And you know I can see summertime slipping on away
A few more geese are gone, a few more leaves turning red
But the grass is as soft as a feather in a featherbed
So Ill be king and youll be queen
Our kingdoms gonna be this little patch of green
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh the memory is like the sweetest pain
Yeah, I kissed the girl at a football game
I can still smell the sweat and the grass stains
We walked home together. I was never the same.
But that was a long time ago
And where is she now? I dont know
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh, september grass is the sweetest kind
It goes down easy like apple wine
Hope you dont mind if I pour you some
Made that much sweeter by the winter to come
Do you see those ants dancing on a blade of grass?
Do you know what I know? thats you and me, baby
Were so small and the worlds so vast
We found each other down in the grass
Wont you lie down with me right here
September grass
Wont you lie down with me now
In this september grass
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
(repeat)
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down here now
In this september grass
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Writing...
because there is no one
you can trust now,
feeling so alone, and have no one to speak to
with honesty,
you have decided to befriend yourself
welcoming to the house of your body
your soul, your best friend now,
sharing bed with you, looking at the stars at night
with you,
and since the world is so silent
and sad
there is no choice but to talk to yourself
to the trees
the grass
and then your hands
become one big river with ten tributaries
all move towards your heart
your mouth
and from which
since then
writing begins...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ethics and Civics
Fame, status
Sex, lust
Politics, religion
Drugs and infidelity.
'What about honesty, loyalty...
Faith and morality? '
Yeah!
But Missus Simmons...
You mentioned nothing about fiction.
You told us to keep our essays 'real'.
And to include those areas of our goals...
If we are to become assets to today's society.
You gave us this assignment last week!
Remember?
'Yes...
This is true.
But not one of you had anything to say,
About honesty, loyalty, faith or morality.'
But Missus Simmons...
None of us are 'that' creative.
This isn't English.
This is an Ethics and Civics class.
'I don't know how I can get this across to you all.'
But Missus Simmons,
I thought you told us you had a 'doctorate' degree?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Grass Smells Red
The grass smells red.
Untill these mortal bounds find thier way into the catostrophic fire's of love and redemption, the grass will smell red.
The grass tells a story of wars unsung and battles lost.
The grass tells a story of love gained and a fury found again.
The grass smells red...but does it speak?
Does it's voice ring out like the bells in a steeple?
Does it feel the pain of those who died?
Did it hear the screams?
The grass smells red and it grow's red.
It feels red.
This grass will die red.
poem by Troy Nichols
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We must never regard as normal the regular and casual undermining of our democratic norms and ideals. We must never meekly accept the daily sundering of our country, the personal attacks, the threats against principles, freedoms and institution, the flagrant disregard for truth and decency, the reckless provocations, most often for the pettiest and most personal reasons — reasons having nothing whatsoever to do with the fortunes of the people that we have been elected to serve. None of these appalling features of our current politics should ever be regarded as normal. We must never allow ourselves to lapse into thinking that that is "just the way things are now." If we simply become inured to this condition, thinking that it is just politics as usual, then heaven help us. Without fear of the consequences and without consideration of the rules of what is politically safe or palatable, we must stop pretending that the degradation of our politics and the conduct of some in our executive branch are normal. They are not normal.
quote by Jeff Flake
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Affirmation
I believe the sun should never set upon an argument
I believe we place our happiness in other people's hands
I believe that junk food tastes so good because it's bad for you
I believe your parents did the best job they knew how to do
I believe that beauty magazines promote low self-esteem
I believe I'm loved when I'm completely by myself alone
I believe in Karma what you give is what you get returned
I believe you can't appreciate real love until you've been burned
I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side
I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye
I believe you can't control or choose your sexuality
I believe that trust is more important than monogamy
I believe your most attractive features are your heart and soul
I believe that family is worth more than money or gold
I believe the struggle for financial freedom is unfair
I believe the only ones who disagree are millionaires
I believe in Karma what you give is what you get returned
I believe you can't appreciate real love until you've been burned
I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side
I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye
I believe forgiveness is the key to your unhappiness
I believe that wedded bliss negates the need to be undressed
I believe that God does not endorse TV evangelists
I believe in love surviving death into eternity
I believe in Karma what you give is what you get returned
I believe you can't appreciate real love until you've been burned
I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side
I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye
[repeat ]
song performed by by Savage Garden from Affirmation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mower's Song
My Mind was once the true survey
Of all these Medows fresh and gay;
And in the greenness of the Grass
Did see its Hopes as in a Glass;
When Juliana came, and she
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But these, while I with Sorrow pine,
Grew more luxuriant still and fine;
That not one Blade of Grass you spy'd,
But had a Flower on either side;
When Juliana came, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
Unthankful Meadows, could you so
A fellowship so true forego,
And in your gawdy May-games meet,
While I lay trodden under feet?
When Juliana came , and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But what you in Compassion ought,
Shall now by my Revenge be wrought:
And Flow'rs, and Grass, and I and all,
Will in one common Ruine fall.
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
And thus, ye Meadows, which have been
Companions of my thoughts more green,
Shall now the Heraldry become
With which I shall adorn my Tomb;
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
poem by Andrew Marvell
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Ring Of Grass
Rings of grass crowns of flowers they're gone gone gone gone
Furs that I woven of whispering hours gone gone gone gone
She's gone away where the rings are real
And the furs have warmth that a woman can feel
Round and round round goes the wheel
And she's gone gone gone gone gone
Rings of grass and crowns of flowers gone gone gone gone
Castles of sand with seashell towers gone gone gone gone
She's gone away where the dreams are small
But the castles are rock and they never fall
And left me here to live among all that is gone gone gone gone gone
Rings of grass oh why did they die away gone gone gone gone
Whispering hours where did they fly away gone gone gone gone
And where is the wisdom to understand
That years would crumble our castles of sand
And the flowers and grass turn brown in our hands
When it's gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Death of a Union Man
The dust blossoms from grass roots
The river in the arm of the town a healthy vein
Wind at night in the elephant grass and spider on the wall
Strength under torture – one or two man cell
Does it matter how he died in the hands of the State
Is this so far from a sleepy peasant town?
Not as distant as the stars are to the village night
But as vivid as they are, to the ones allowed to know
Soft wind – full moon – palm trees
Night of day making a mockery
Donkey road – tin can street –
Cans on rough grass –
Static – airwaves – faint hurried news:
Death of a Union man
We remain in times of plenty
With faith in history while riot stories grow
Confusing a simple hope
Confounding the politics of luxury
The warm winter nights caress terribly
Like a woman on the edge of birth
The river bears strengths useless to me
But sustaining for us all
Like you, overcoming the cruelty by shadows.
poem by Frank Bana
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Moorland Night
My face is against the grass - the moorland grass is wet -
My eyes are shut against the grass, against my lips there are the little blades,
Over my head the curlews call, And now there is the night wind in my hair;
My heart is against the grass and the sweet earth, - it has gone still, at last;
It does not want to beat any more,
And why should it beat?
This is the end of the journey.
The Thing is found.
This is the end of all the roads -
Over the grass there is the night-dew
And the wind that drives up from the sea along the moorland road,
I hear a curlew start out from the heath
And fly off calling through the dusk,
The wild, long, rippling call -:
The Thing is found and I am quiet with the earth;
Perhaps the earth will hold it or the wind, or that bird's cry,
But it is not for long in any life I know. This cannot stay,
Not now, not yet, not in a dying world, with me, for very long;
I leave it here:
And one day the wet grass may give it back -
One day the quiet earth may give it back -
The calling birds may give it back as they go by -
To someone walking on the moor who starves for love and will not know
Who gave it to all these to give away;
Or, if I come and ask for it again
Oh! then, to me.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
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Leaves Of Grass
The leaves of grass will not pass on
Though the millstones grind them into dust
For the earth shall give life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
And the brave must fall to honor the names
Of the ones who have gone before
And the earth shall give new life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
If people could look into each others eyes
What a wonderful place this world would be
All strife would end, we could start again
And dreams like these must not pass on
But the brave keep falling to honor the names
Of the ones who have gone before
And the earth shall give new life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
And the brave keep falling to honor the names
Of the ones who have gone before
And the earth shall give new life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
The leaves of grass will not pass on
Though the millstones grind them into dust
For the earth shall give new life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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