Coal-Truck

I am a coal-truck
Carrying gold dust.
Someone threw some
Coal-dust upon
My gold-dust.

I am a coal-truck
In a gold mine.
Someone struck a coal vein
And piled me full in vain.

I am a coal-truck
Covered in subterranean dust.
Someone shovelled my soil
And found an ancient bone
All coiled.

I am a coal-truck
Waiting for the rain.
The sun is my rail
The night my shed.

I am a coal-truck
Rumbling all the way.
Wash me in the rain-storm
And fill me full of coke
Until I choke.

(©: T. Wignesan,1957 - Pub. in 'Forum Academicum', Heidelberg University,1957; from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)

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On The Road

My aunt lives over there
you said

and Jimmy looked
over the back

of the coal truck
to where you were pointing

and said
we must be far

from home then
if that’s where she lives

and you looked over
at the apartments

wondering if your aunt
was home or not

and the coal guy said
best keep your heads down boys

don’t want people wondering
what the heck you’re doing

in the back of a coal truck
and so you and Jimmy

got underneath
the tarpaulin

and the driver pulled away
to deliver more coal

and Jimmy said
if my old girl

knew I was here
she’d hit the roof

or worse
and you said

well it’s been an adventure
it got us out

of the block
and on the road

for a while
and when we get

back home
we best sneak

out of here
and hope to God

we ain’t covered
in that coal dust

all over out jeans
and tee-shirts and such

or we’ll be in for it
and outside

you could hear
the pitter patter of rain

on the tarpaulin
and imagined

you could hear
Jimmy’s mother’s

sharp angry voice
through the darkness calling.

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The Death of the Hindu

Chin cupped
on the ancient bone
of his elbow
he spread five fingers to the world:
and like a cat on zither strings
the hoarse voice of his fathers
issues from his forgotten children:
now he picks one tick
from the back of that suckling cow:
his failing fingers
find not the strength to crush

Not a single eyelash twitters
pass him by
pass him

'Wake not a man asleep
And tell him he has
Nothing to eat.'

(©: T. Wignesan - Paris,1957; from T. Wignesan. Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961; first pub. in 'Forum Academicum', University of Heidelberg,1957)

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Christina Georgina Rossetti

A Diamond Or A Coal?

A diamond or a coal?
A diamond, if you please:
Who cares about a clumsy coal
Beneath the summer trees?
A diamond or a coal?
A coal, sir, if you please:
One comes to care about the coal
What time the waters freeze.

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Cremation

Well the coal black sea waits for me me me
The coal black sea waits forever
The waves hit the shore
Crying more more more
But the coal black sea waits forever
The tornados come up the coast they run
Hurricanes rip the sky forever
Through the weathers change
the sea remains the same
The coal black sea waits forever
There are ashes split through collective guilt
People rest at sea forever
Since they burnt you up
Collect you in a cup
For you the coal black sea has no terror
Will your ashes float like some foreign boat
or will they sink absorbed forever
Will the Atlantic Coast
have its final boast
Nothing else contained you ever
Now the coal black sea waits for me me me
The coal black sea waits forever
When I leave this joint
at some further point
The same coal black sea will it be waiting

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Cremation - Ashes To Ashes

Well the coal-black sea waits for me-me-me
The coal-black sea waits forever
The waves hit the shore, crying more-more-more
But the coal-black sea waits forever
The tornados come up the coast they run
Hurricanes rip the sky forever
Through the weathers change, the sea remains the same
The coal-black sea waits forever
There are ashes split through collective guilt
People rest at sea forever
Since they burnt you up, collect you in a cup
For you the coal-black sea has no terror
Will your ashes float like some foreign boat
Or will they sink absorbed forever
Will the atlantic coast, have its final boast
Nothing else contained you ever
Now the coal-black sea waits for me-me-me
The coal-black sea waits forever
When I leave this joint at some further point
The same coal-black sea will it be waiting

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Beat It On Down The Line

Well this job Ive got is just a little too hard,
Running out of money, lord, I need more pay.
Gonna wake up in the morning lord, gonna pack my bags,
Im gonna beat it on down the line.
Im goin down the line, goin down the line,
Goin down the line, goin down the line,
Goin down the line, goin down the line,
Beat it on down the line.
Yes Ill be waiting at the station lord, when that train pulls on by,
Im going back where I belong.
Im going back to that same old used-to-be,
Down in joe browns coal mine.
Coal mine, coal mine, coal mine, coal mine.
Coal mine, coal mine, coal mine, coal mine.
Coal mine, coal mine, coal mine, coal mine.
Down in joe browns coal mine.
Yeah, Im goin back to that shack way across that railroad track,
Uh huh, thats where I think I belong.
And thats where Im gonna make my happy home.
Happy home, happy home, happy home, happy home.
Happy home, happy home, happy home, happy home.
Happy home, happy home, happy home, happy home.
Thats where Im gonna make my happy home.

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Mining For Coal

(Matraca Berg/Ronnie Samoset)
I've searched the world over all of my life
Just looking for something
To make my love shine
Like a candle that burns in the night
But I came up with nothing
Till I looked in your eyes
Deeper and deeper inside
And all of the treasures
I found in your soul
Was like finding a diamond
When you're mining for coal
I've been a fool for glitter and gold
And women that sparkle shiny and cold
Like a statue carved out of ice
They shimmer like tinsel
On a blue Christmas night
But they never were quite so bright
As all of the treasures
That loving you holds
It's like finding a diamond
When you're mining for coal
I was a miner
And you were a rock in the dust
But you became flawless
When you were you polished by love
And when I found you
I lost all control
I found me a diamond
Just mining for coal

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The Gnat Nebulae

Full pummelling fisticuffs
Stitch over stitch
In and out
Imperceptibly kaleidoscopic
Swirling from ear to ear
Sporadic
Thrumming mystical notes
Notes of whisper
Whisper in the ear
Now a bothered swish of clawing
Cleaving slipping fingers
Immalleable rolling universal ball

Microcosmic needle into
Macrocosmic wool all
Silently thudding kneading pulling
Sealing a sin all opened unforgiven
Eternally whispering to a few
And never really heard
Pummelling sewing the invisible centre
Round and round the darkless sun
Only the end that began

Only a scratch and a bother
What bother to scratch
For scratching bothers
Bothers a scratch

Scratch and not to bother
Scratch Scratch Scratch

Dedicated to J.C. Alldridge

(©: T. Wignesan - Paris,1957; from T. Wignesan. Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961; first pub. in 'Forum Academicum', University of Heidelberg,1957)

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Unheeded in the spread of his name, quaking

Unheeded in the spread of his name, quaking
Through the knit brow cuddling the sombre eye
Twice buckled into the couch of his yearning

The mouldy cast of unsculptured hands, moulting
In the surging sweaty cries' unexpected sigh
Sooner lost than won with unrenewed longing

Every day, every night in chastened haste, calling
That one face, one hand trembling on bosomy thigh
Through all the twigs of his knotty brooding

Mighty log in the dismembered chips, raking
In uneasy orgasms of a protracted lie
The woman clasped in the memory revolting

Fleshy hair to press, hovering nostrils, drinking
In the incensing vapours, and that face a wry
Screaming in the rubbing spasm, a bloody cursing

All, all and more, and the biting shame, clawing
Now at the name, silently growing, that shy
Child of old hopefully shared and lingered moaning


(© T. Wignesan,1957; first pub. in 'Forum Academicum', University of Heidelberg,1957; from the collection: T. Wignesan. Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)

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Further, the United States is moving ahead in the development of clean coal technology. There are vast coal reserves in our country, and when it is burned cleanly, coal can provide a resource to supply a large amount of our energy requirements.

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Jean Toomer

Banking Coal

Whoever it was who brought the first wood and coal
To start the Fire, did his part well;
Not all wood takes to fire from a match,
Nor coal from wood before it’s burned to charcoal.
The wood and coal in question caught a flame
And flared up beautifully, touching the air
That takes a flame from anything.

Somehow the fire was furnaced,
And then the time was ripe for some to say,
“Right banking of the furnace saves the coal.”
I’ve seen them set to work, each in his way,
Though all with shovels and with ashes,
Never resting till the fire seemed most dead;
Whereupon they’d crawl in hooded night-caps
Contentedly to bed. Sometimes the fire left alone
Would die, but like as not spiced tongues
Remaining by the hardest on till day would flicker up,
Never strong, to anyone who cared to rake for them.
But roaring fires never have been made that way.
I’d like to tell those folks that one grand flare
Transferred to memory tissues of the air
Is worth a like, or, for dull minds that turn in gold,
All money ever saved by banking coal.

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The Snake Charmer and the Hamadryad

Piccolo and been-throated pibroch
Dilating dimpled hood
Spreading photometric darkroom eyes
Waxing waxing matching
Venomous lip to music's piping lip

O Queen of stung dragon-mouthed Po
Dancing girl of nuanceless ancient reliefs
The apotheosis Brahman curling on the neck
Must you now sink sink
Dread watched
Spineless
Into the winding womb wickerwork
Watching watching pipe-eyed watching
Until you slip
Over the sill of the pipe and the lip

Anathema!
Amorphous piteous anathema!
Amulet of Siva!
Licking the boneless air companionless
Then slithering to lie on the trodden path
Must you have this one last lick
A lick that
Stills the
Unheeding
Child astray
Or ripple tailless
In the reedy gust
To the squat charmer's
Hypnotical pibroch

(©: T. Wignesan - Paris,1957; from T. Wignesan. Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961; first pub. in 'Forum Academicum', University of Heidelberg,1957)

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Yes, Money grows on trees

Yes money grows on tress
Plant the tree of labour
Plant the tree of honesty
Plant the tree of integrity
And you go for reaping money
Use local economy and local people
Both in wholesale and in retail
In gold tree you can reap gold
And in Coal tree you must reap coal
Going with coal you look black
And Black will take no other hues.

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Poets fool

Her eyes are like doe’s and lips, like rose.
Can doe’s eyes and rose like hers excite?
Her hair is like coal and skin, gold.
Can coal and gold like hers stimulate?
Her breasts are apple and teeth, pearl.
Can apples and pearls like hers entice?
Poets fool you as you want to be fooled.
11.10.2006

poem by Rm. Shanmugam ChettiarReport problemRelated quotes
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We're not saying that you don't need coal, but when you do mine the coal there are responsibilities to it. It may cost a little more, but it is the right thing to do.

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Evil Man-Coal Mine

Evil man is -coal mine
How can I make refine!
I am trying to
Heap coal of fire
On his head with cocaine.

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Kentucky Mine

His eyes are greener than the meadows
His hair is greyer than a ghost
His lungs are blacker than the shadows
That dance in circles down below
You see them every monday morning
Electric halos light their way
Five days of widows mourning
But friday rolls the stone away
Chorus
Kentucky mine, doing time
Never see the light of day
Kentucky mine, stand in line
Just to dig your own grave
From coal dust they make a living
To coal dust they will return
The earth is good but unforgiving
And someones got to keep the fire burnin
Daddy says, listen to me,
Do not follow where my footsteps lead
Chorus
And everything he said was true
But whats a kentucky boy like me to do?
Chorus

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Sweet Guinevere

Sweet guinevere youre off to the coal town tonight
And your young brother ernies up in pittsburgh pa
You know mother loves you, and dads in the mine
So dont go to the coal town, guinevere, if youre kind
She loves a young man and he lives in the town
He leaves the house early for he works underground
He makes a good wage for a coal miners son
And shes a bit pretty, just turned twenty-one
Sweet guinevere youre off to the coal town tonight
And your young brother ernies up in pittsburgh pa
You know mother loves you, and dads in the mine
So dont go to the coal town, guinevere, shut the blind
She knows her good mothers not feelin no pain
She remembers an explosion and the black falling rain
She paints her thin lips in her dewy-eyed way
Then she says to the daughter, dear daughter I pray
Sweet guinevere youre off to the coal town tonight
And your young brother ernies up in pittsburgh pa
You know mother loves you, and dads in the mine
So dont go to the coal town, guinevere, if youre kind

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I would much prefer to be a judge than a coal miner because of the absence of falling coal.

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Identity of Images (Identité des images)

I am fighting furiously with animals and bottles
In a short time perhaps ten hours have passed one
after another
The beautiful swimmer who was afraid of coral wakes
this morning
Coral crowned with holly knocks on her door
Ah! coal again always coal
I conjure you coal tutelary genius of dreams and my
solitude let me let me speak again of the beautiful
swimmer who was afraid of coral
No longer tyrannize this seductive subject of my
dreams
The beautiful swimmer was reposing in a bed of lace
and birds
The clothes on a chair at the foot of the bed were
illuminated by gleams the last gleams of coal
The one that had come from the depths of the sky and
earth and sea was proud of its coral beak and great
wings of crape
All night long it had followed divergent funerals toward
suburban cemeteries
It had been to embassy balls marked white satin gowns with
its imprint a fern leaf
It had risen terribly before ships and the ships had not
returned
Now crouched in the chimney it was watching for the
waking of foam and singing of kettles
Its resounding step had disturbed the silence of nights
in streets with sonorous pavements
Sonorous coal coal master of dreams coal
Ah tell me where is that beautiful swimmer the swimmer
who was afraid of coral?
But the swimmer herself has gone back to sleep
And I remain face to face with the fire and shall remain
through the night interrogating the coal with wings of
darkness that persists in projecting on my monotonous
road the shadow of its smoke and the terrible
reflections of its embers
Sonorous coal coal pitiless coal

poem by Robert DesnosReport problemRelated quotes
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