The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. January
COVER SHOOTING
The week at Whinwood next to Christmas week.
Six guns, no more, but all good men and true,
Of the clean--visaged sort, with ruddy cheek
Which knows not care. Light--hearted Montagu
At the cover's end, as down the wind they flew,
Has stopped his score of pheasants, every beak,
Without more thought of Juliet than of you;
And still I hear his loud--mouthed Purdeys speak.
Tybalt and Paris, with a bet on hand,
Have fired at the same woodcock. ``Truce,'' say I,
``To civil jars.'' For look, as by command,
Bunch following bunch, a hundred pheasants fly.
Now battle, murder, death on every side!
Right, left, left, right, we pile up agony,
Till night stops all. Then home in chastened pride,
With aching heads, our slaughter satisfied.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Cover Me
The times are tough now, just getting tougher
This old world is rough, its just getting rougher
Cover me, come on baby, cover me
Well Im looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me
Promise me baby you wont let them find us
Hold me in your arms, lets let our love blind us
Cover me, shut the door and cover me
Well Im looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me
Outsides the rain, the driving snow
I can hear the wild wind blowing
Turn out the light, bolt the door
I aint going out there no more
This whole world is out there just trying to score
Ive seen enough I dont want to see any more,
Cover me, come on and cover me
Im looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me
Looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXXVI: Cover
We cover bitterness with satyr
We cover sadness with smile
We cover happiness with tears
We cover pride with stubbornness
We cover anger with jokes
We cover grudge with loyalty
We cover love with play
We cover lust with generosity
We cover sorrow with toughness
We cover ambition with hard work
We cover hope with pessimism
We cover fear with deniable
We cover dream with horror
We cover shame with sarcasm
We cover lone with rebellion
We cover clueless with boasting
We cover ignorance with invisibility
We cover truth with shadow
We cover trouble with distraction
We cover envy with humiliation
We cover lie with innocence
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Saturday Night (Is The Loneliest Night In The Week)
Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
'Cause that's the night that my sweetie and I
Used to dance cheek to cheek
I don't mind Sunday night at all
'Cause that's the night friends come to call
And Monday to Fridays go fast
And another week is past
But Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
I sing the song that I sang for the memories I usually seek
Until I hear you at the door
Until you're in my arms once more
Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
I sing a lonely song
And everything seems wrong
You know saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
And I sing a song for the memories I usually seek
Until I hear you nocking at my door
Until you're in my arms once more
Saturday night is the loneliest night
Saturday night is the doggone lonelest night in the week
Until I hear you at the door
Until you're in my arms once more
Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Brady Bunch
You can watch mr. rogers
You can watch threes company
And you can turn on fame or the nelywed game
Or the addams family
I say, you can watch barney miller
And you can watch your mtv
And you can watch till your eyes fall out of your head
Thatll be ok with me
And you can watch (tv)
You can watch johnny carson
You can watch phil donahue
And you can use tv guide to help you decide
With capsulized review
Say, you can watch 60 minutes
Even captain kangaroo
But theres only one set, so what ever you watch
Well, you know I gotta watch it too
Say, give it up, give it up, televisions taking its toll
Thats enought, thats enough, gimme the remote controll
I been nice, I been good, please dont do this to me
Turn it off, turn it off, I dont want to have to see
The brady bunch
Not the brady bunch
Well, the brady bunch
Yeah, the brady bunch
Its the story of a lovely lady
Who was bringing up three very lovely girls
All of them had hair of gold, like their mother
The youngest one in curls
Its a story of a man named brady
Who was busy with three boys of his own
They were four men living all together
Yeah, but they were all alone
Until the one day, one day when the lady met the fellow
And they knew, and they knew it was much more than a hunch
Then they knew this group must somehow form a family
Thats the way, thats the way, thats the way they all became
The brady bunch
Well, the brady bunch
Yeah, the brady bunch
Well, the brady bunch
Oh, its the brady bunch
Its the brady bunch
Oh, the brady bunch, yeah
Oh, the brady bunch
Its the brady bunch
Well, its the brady bunch
Well, its the brady bunch
Well, its the brady bunch
Its the brady bunch
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cassinga
Just like spring when the blue sky is full of falling leaves,
there are three hundred and seventy parachutes that decent,
on a ominous day
with enemy AA-guns reporting
and the enemy are more
than a thousand and a half in number.
The barrels of the enemy AA-guns are lowered,
to break us
and the enemy tries to sow havoc
and to decimate us.
Enemy snipers are shooting from trees
and from everywhere
there are shots being fired,
that munches pieces from us
From behind ruins
we fire almost endlessly
at trenches where some enemy soldiers hide
and launch mortar bombs
all over the place,
while bullets are coming down like rain.
We return heavy fire
to the enemy at the AA-guns,
while other soldiers replace them
which keeps the battle hanging in balance
Shot after shot are being fired
and the smell of death
is strong in the air
and there’s nowhere
for the enemy to escape to.
The last resistance disappears
and there’s apparent peace
and dead enemies everywhere
and some of the bats,
get into pumas
and the rest of us wait
with nowhere to go.
The border is too far to walk
and there’s nothing to drive away with,
when Cuban tanks and armoured cars
find us there.
.
With RPG-7 iron fists
four tanks are destroyed
and a landmine stops another tank in its tracks,
but only paratroops against oncoming armour
are canon feed
and nothing diminishes the danger
of a Cuban mechanized battalion.
Till two Mirages destroys ten armoured cars
and everywhere there’s smoke and dust
and a Buccaneer comes from the sun,
to let moments turn into eternity.
Time after time
it flashes by and fires its rockets
at the oncoming tanks
and with no ammo left,
dives fearlessly over shooting AA-guns
to make the tanks take cover.
It’s very ruff going
but the last pumas land
in a clouds of dust,
to evacuate us
while enemy tanks keep firing.
I try and hold the rearguard with a LMG
before the shot out ruins fades away from me
and we leave forty living enemies behind
and all of us are safely gone,
but for four brave men
whose lives are spent.
[References: AA-guns=> Anti aircraft guns. Bats=>Parabats=>Airbourne soldiers. RPG-7 iron fists=> Rocket propelled grenade launchers=> Bazookas. Mirages=> Mirage fighter jets. Buccaneer=> Buccaneer ground support bomber. Pumas=> Puma helicopters. LMG=> Light machinegun.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Nervous & Weird
You know I want to be the way you want me to
Big hearted and tall enough to cover you
I would break in half if you said it loud
Splinter out of myself just like mercury
I think its better now than how it used to be
You were lying in bed and I would levitate
I think its better here, than where we used to be
I wish I could go out into the oregon sun=85 to be alive in the day
I would smile at everyone
I remember you back in 83 you were dressing insane
You were my everything you were so different from all those other girls
A blind electra in drag so cool and casually lame
I think Im better now than how I used to be
Always nervous and weird, scared most of the time
I think its better now than how it used to be
Always up in the night afraid to live in the day afraid of being afraid
Now I sit alone when youre not around
I read aloud just to hear a friendly voice
I see you scary dolls they always look at me
=46rom the corner of my eyes I see them shake their heads
You know I want to be the way you me to
Big hearted and tall enough to cover you
I wish I could go out just to be alive in the day
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death's Wings
Death was a bird that night
An ugly, vicious bird
Death's claws scratched at me
But flew away when I didn't bleed.
As it flew, darkness fell
Wings blocking out the moon.
Death screetched in frustration
When it couldn't break my skin
Death was too obvious
And realised.
Death swooped low that night
And caught her by suprise
Not a sound left its beak, nor her mouth
And death was silently satisfied.
To strike again was simple
Death had learnt a new trick.
And so began a time
That death shed its feathers.
poem by Danielle Guscott
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Soldier's Reality
The drums of war beat in the distance,
A constant beat of gun shots.
The men and boys fighting.
Waiting for the war to end, to go back home.
They sit in the cover of the long grass,
Guns loaded, hearts pounding.
They wait for a signal, a sign,
To rise, run, and fire.
Till then they sit, watching, bullets passing by.
They watch people falling, their lives leaving.
Nothing matters to them except that they live,
That they get to see their family again.
Smoke hangs in the air,
A thick mist that reminds them that they're at war,
Keeping them in reality, keeping their eyes open.
The constant rhythm of guns against heart beats,
Both pounding, both screaming.
The black sky closing in on them,
Keeping them in the small battle that they can not escape,
They move back from the front line,
Move away from the fire, the death.
Some walk, some run, some cry, some pray,
But they all move on.
They all go back to camp, to wait for more death and pain.
For tomorrow.
The talking goes late into the night.
Men and women desperate for happiness,
They sit around guns in hand,
Ready for anything.
The shooting never stops, never leaves their minds,
Even in the depths of this black night,
Nothing ends except the next person's life,
Nothing is right, nothing is normal, nothing feels real,
But in truth and in the midst of everything so surreal,
This is the soldiers reality.
by: bethany M.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Even Then
(Pat Bunch/Shane Teeters)
My love for you has spread across
My every move, my every thought
Like a fire the wind has caught
As I begin
To give you all of who I am
Your every touch is my command
When once again it seems
I've loved you all I can
Even then my heart will pound
So loud the world will hear the sound
Of how I couldn't love you more
And even then
Each night will bring another day
Another chance for me to say
Your arms are all I'm living for and loving in
I will love you till the end
And even then
I won't know how to tell you this
But I will say with every kiss
No man has ever loved like this
Or will again
And when your auburn hair turns gray
And there are lines across your face
That map each moment and each place
Our love has been
Even then my heart will pound
So loud the world will hear the sound
Of how I couldn't love you more
And even then
Each night will bring another day
Another chance for me to say
Your arms are all I'm living for and loving in
I will love you till the end
And even then
Yes I will love you till the end
And even then
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Knife
Slit and
Slither knife
Penetrate in phallic push
To perforate the pulse of tissues in the flesh
Slice a vein to drain the unsuspecting victim
E’er they bleed and plea
Their scream
Of death
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXVIII
THE SAME CONTINUED
Again Love left you. With appealing eyes
You watched him go, and lips apart to speak.
He left you, and once more the sun did rise
And the sun set, and week trod close on week
And month on month, till you had reached the goal
Of forty years, and life's full waters grew
To bitterness and flooded all your soul,
Making you loathe old things and pine for new.
And you into the wilderness had fled,
And in your desolation loud did cry,
``Oh for a hand to turn these stones to bread!''
Then in your ear Love whispered scornfully,
``Thou too, poor fool, thou, even thou,'' he said,
``Shalt taste thy little honey ere thou die.''
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Nervous & Weird
You know i want to be
The way you want me to
Big hearted and tall enough to cover you
I would break in half
If you said it loud splinter out of myself
Just like mercury
I think it's better now,
Than how it used to be
You were lying in bed and i would levitate
I think it's better here,
Than where we used to be
I wish i could go out into the oregon sun. . .
To be alive in the day. . .
I would smile at everyone
I remember you
Back in '83
You were dressing insane
You were my everything
You were so different
From all those other girls
A blind electra in drag
So cool and casually lame
I think i'm better now
Than how i used to be
Always nervous and weird
Scared most of the time
I think it's better now
Than how it used to be
Always up in the night
Afraid to live in the day
Afraid of being afraid
Afraid to live in the day
Afraid of being afraid
I sit alone
When your not around
I read aloud just to hear a friendly noise
I see your scary dolls
They always look at me
From the corner of my eyes
I see them shake their heads
You know i want to be
The way you want me to
Big hearted and tall enough to cover you
I want to be
The way you want me to
I wish i could go out just to be alive in the day
To be alive in the day
To be alive in the day
To be alive in the day
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Admiral Death
Boys, are ye calling a toast to-night?
(Hear what the sea-wind saith)
Fill for a bumper strong and bright,
And here's to Admiral Death!
He's sailed in a hundred builds o' boat,
He's fought in a thousand kinds o' coat,
He's the senior flag of all that float,
And his name's Admiral Death!
Which of you looks for a service free?
(Hear what the sea-wind saith)
The rules o' the service are but three
When ye sail with Admiral Death.
Steady your hand in time o' squalls,
Stand to the last by him that falls,
And answer clear to the voice that calls,
'Ay, Ay! Admiral Death!'
How will ye know him among the rest?
(Hear what the sea-wind saith)
By the glint o' the stars that cover his breast
Ye may find Admiral Death.
By the forehead grim with an ancient scar,
By the voice that rolls like thunder far,
By the tenderest eyes of all that are,
Ye may know Admiral Death.
Where are the lads that sailed before?
(Hear what the sea-wind saith)
Their bones are white by many a shore,
They sleep with Admiral Death.
Oh! but they loved him, young and old,
For he left the laggard, and took the bold,
And the fight was fought, and the story's told,
And they sleep with Admiral Death.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Concealment And Covering
you conceal so many things
for so many reasons
you cover them
for so many ratiocinations
you cover you cup of coffee
so it may not get cold that easily
in the same manner you cover your cooking pot
so it may get hot earlier and at least fuel
you cover your ears perhaps because there's so much noise
you cover your head because it may be so hot or there may be rain
you cover your book to protect it from stains
you cover your furnitures because there is so much dust
you cover your body, your heart, your mind
for so many reasons
to each his own because we want to survive we want to live
we want to be just left to ourselves in our chosen privacies
no one has ever said that survival is a crime, a sin, a wrong,
it is the most fitting thing to do, and you must do it too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Keep Under Cover
Love, Im going to pick you up in the morning
Love, Im going to take you out on a journey
I dont know where Im going to
But I know what Ive been going through
Without you by my side
What good is butter if you havent got bread?
What good is art when it hurts your head?
Might as well be in bed
Keep under cover til the battle has ceased
Keep out of trouble til the prisoners are released
What goods a puzzle when you havent a clue?
What good is me when Im not with you?
Might as well stay in bed
Keep under cover til the clouds desappear
Keep out of trouble til the weather is bright and clear
Love, Im going to pick you up
Im going to take you out
I dont know what Im going to do
But I know what Ive been going through
Without you by my side
Without you by my side
What good is tennis when there isnt a ball?
What goods a curtain without a call?
Might as well be in bed
Keep under cover til the battle has ceased
Keep out of trouble til the prisoners are released
Love, Im going to pick you up
Im going to take you out
I dont know what Im going to do
But I know what Ive been going through
Without you by my side
Without you by my side
Keep under cover
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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End Of The Week
I get out of work
And then I throw away all of my cares
I get out of work
And then I wash the week out my hair
Monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday
Its hard as could be
But by old friday evening
Were free, were free, were free
End of the week
The weekend started
Been working so hard to play
End of the week
Its time to party
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Youre tasting freedom
No one to push you around
End of the week
And life has a reason
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Street are alive
You know everybodys going somewhere
You put on the slide
You gotta beat the crowd just everywhere
And all the music all the dancing
Get you so high
And all that sweet romancing
Oh my, oh my, oh my
End of the week
The weekend started
Working so hard to play
End of the week
Its time to party
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Feels good now
Feels good now
End of the week
End of the week
Its real good now
Real good now
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Premeditation
Oh blade you'll warm tonight!
Awash in crimson-purple flows,
Your sheen will dull with aching flesh:
Palpating anatomic mounds
Caressing, dancing, writhing round
Your metal form-
Whetted ‘gainst a lonely bone,
Then to probe the pounding, begging heart.
And all the while the prey will howl
Before they crumple; greet the mud-
A taut and unbelieving jowl
Will open out for giving blood-
A vent from down below,
Once a brutal show
Of metal in the man.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Changes At The Un
I spent my youth with a gun and a dog in the fields of Clare,
Hunting rabbits and pheasants and ducks and fast running hare,
So the long tail feathers of the cock pheasants, I knew well,
Then I became a member Canadian navel personnel.
At the UN in the mid 50s looking down from balcony,
A pheasant feather in a lady’s hat amid UN pageantry,
Sitting down there at the Irish desk but she didn’t care,
That the face on the balcony came all the way from County Clare.
But those were the days when the UN had a very good name,
Not like nowadays when so many tend to viciously complain,
But that was very long ago and I was much younger then,
Am I the only one who noticed the change, now among the old men?
JAN 19th,2011
poem by James Bredin
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This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)
(Original by Talking Heads)
Home is where I want to be
Pick me up and turn me around
I feel numb - burn with a weak heart
(So I) guess I must be having fun
The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It's okay I know nothing's wrong . . nothing
Hi yo I got plenty of time
Hi yo you got light in your eyes
And you're standing here beside me
I love the passing of time
Never for money
Always for love
Cover up and say goodnight . . . say goodnight
Home - is where I want to be
But I guess I'm already there
I come home - -she lifted up her wings
Guess that this must be the place
I can't tell one from another
Did I find you, or you find me?
There was a time before we were born
If someone asks, this is where I'll be . . . where I'll be
Hi yo We drift in and out
Hi yo sing into my mouth
Out of all those kinds of people
You got a face with a view
I'm just an animal looking for a home
Share the same space for a minute or two
And you love me till my heart stops
Love me till I'm dead
Eyes that light up, eyes look through you
Cover up the blank spots
Hit me on the head Ah ooh
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poor Man's Christmas
Mistletoe hang from the ceiling
And somehow it gets me to feeling
That the Season of Christmas is here
A time of enjoyment and cheer.
At Christmas most people feel fine
And generally have a good time
On turkey and pudding they dine
And wash it all down with red wine.
The old man spends Christmas alone
A cold, dreary shack for a home
His sole comfort on Christmas Night
A solitary candle-light.
In Christmas there isn't much cheer
If you haven't the price of a beer
With scarce little money to spend
And no one you can call a friend.
Christmas bring this man no joy
It always seem to pass him by
To this man each day is the same
He care not if Christmas never came.
This poor man unhealthy and weak
Has to live on one hundred and eighty dollars a week
Has to struggle for to make ends meet
To buy shoes, clothes and enough food for to eat.
He looks to the coming New Year
In hopeless dejection and fear,
Fear that the harsh Winter cold
Will take toll on one frail and old.
poem by Francis Duggan
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