Poetry:- 'The Invitation' and others

[C. Flower]

On The Run


Drumsaragh,
Drumane,
Drumagarner,
Drumimerick and
Drumlane, ankle deep.
Drumard,
Drumnacanon and
Dunglady until the helicopter goes.

Drumbolg,
Drumoolish,
Drummuck,
Dreenan and
Drumard, a different one.
Drumlamph,
Drumanee Upper,
Drumanee Lower and the next one.

Class.

[BARNEYKX]

I never knew so many cared
What became of me; or how I fared

My road was long and full of holes
To grind me fine, a tattered soul

I walked right through all that was
I stayed true to me, just because

All I had, bled honor with grit
That usually works if you stay a bit

I prayed each night on bended knee
To ask God to let me live and be

Today I heard from someone strong
How their respect grew, as time went on

I know now that each day I prayed
Was carrying me into each day I made

Each day a time that contained the fact
God helped me along; I feel no lack

4/15/09.........................by Cisco109



Love is not consolation. It is light.
~Friedrich Nietzsche

[BARNEYKX]

The Loom of Time

Man's life is laid in the loom of time
To a pattern he does not see,
While the weavers work and the shuttles fly
Till the dawn of eternity.

Some shuttles are filled with silver threads
And some with threads of gold,
While often but the darker hues
Are all that they may hold.

But the weaver watches with skilful eye
Each shuttle fly to and fro,
And sees the pattern so deftly wrought
As the loom moves sure and slow.

God surely planned the pattern:
Each thread, the dark and fair,
Is chosen by His master skill
And placed in the web with care.

He only knows its beauty,
And guides the shuttles which hold
The threads so unattractive,
As well as the threads of gold.

Not till each loom is silent,
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God reveal the pattern
And explain the reason why

The dark threads were as needful
In the weaver's skilful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
For the pattern which He planned.

[5intheface]

Wilderness


Asphalt.
Rose scattered,
Bloodied by dew
Drops in the bustle,
A glit-stubbled suede
Guarding August,
Tarmac.

[5intheface]

Sinners

By Willie John McCann


Upon the choir's dying note
All sinners rush to leave the church.
God's chosen few in reverence wait
To swap their gossip at the gate.

[riposte]

God's Plan B

The Pastor on the God channel was explaining how
things had gone all pear-shaped for God.

He had sent his trusted servant and right-hand angel
Lucifer, to rule over the world but he had rebelled
and thrown everything into Chaos.

So God was constrained to come-up with Plan B.

Under this plan Satan and Lucifer
would be given enough rope to hang themselves.

Close to the end of time these guys would have free range
to ravage the world, to consume themselves
and the world and all those whom they had deceived
until God himself would ring the final bell
for the last round of total mayhem.

I wonder if God has mislaid his bell
or if he is working feverishly
on Plan C even as we speak.

© Michael O'Flanagan August 2012.

[5intheface]

God's Plan B

The Pastor on the God channel was explaining how
things had gone all pear-shaped for God.

He had sent his trusted servant and right-hand angel
Lucifer, to rule over the world but he had rebelled
and thrown everything into Chaos.

So God was constrained to come-up with Plan B.

Under this plan Satan and Lucifer
would be given enough rope to hang themselves.

Close to the end of time these guys would have free range
to ravage the world, to consume themselves
and the world and all those whom they had deceived
until God himself would ring the final bell
for the last round of total mayhem.

I wonder if God has mislaid his bell
or if he is working feverishly
on Plan C even as we speak.

© Michael O'Flanagan August 2012.

Nice on Rip.

Sure there's no copyright issue with using 'total mayhem'?

[riposte]

Recollections Of My Life
A Poem by - Mu'ummar Qaddafi
Translated by Professor Sam Hamod, Ph.D. April 8, 2011.

In the name of Allah, the beneficent, the merciful..

For 40 years, or was it longer,I can’t remember,
I did all I could to give people houses, hospitals, schools,
and when they were hungry, I gave them food,
I even made Benghazi into farmland from the desert,
I stood up to attacks from that cowboy Reagan,
when he killed my adopted orphaned daughter,
he was trying to kill me, instead he killed that poor innocent child,
then I helped my brothers and sisters from Africa with money for the African Union,
did all I could to help people understand the concept of real democracy,
where people’s committees ran our country, but that was never enough,
as some told me, even people who had 10 room homes, new suits and furniture,
were never satisfied, as selfish as they were they wanted more, and they told Americans and other visitors,
they needed “democracy,” and “freedom,” never realizing it was a cut throat system, where the biggest dog eats the rest,
but they were enchanted with those words, never realizing that in America, there was no free medicine, no free hospitals,
no free housing, no free education and no free food, except when people had to beg or go to long lines to get soup,
no, no matter what I did, it was never enough for some,
but for others, they knew I was the son of Gamal Abdel Nasser,
the only true Arab and Muslim leader we’ve had since Salah’ a’ Deen,
when he claimed the Suez Canal for his people,
as I claimed Libya, for my people, it was his footsteps I tried to follow,
to keep my people free from colonial domination—from thieves who would steal from us—

Now, I am under attack by the biggest force in military history,
my little African son, Obama wants to kill me,
to take away the freedom of our country, to take away our free housing,
our free medicine, our free education, our free food, and replace it with American style thievery, called “capitalism,”
but all of us in the Third World know what that means,
it means corporations run the countries, run the world, and the people suffer,
so, there is no alternative for me,
I must make my stand, and if Allah wishes, I shall die by following his path,
the path that has made our country rich with farmland, with food and health,
and even allowed us to help our African and Arab brothers and sisters to work here with us,
in the Libyan Jammohouriyah,

I do not wish to die, but if it comes to that, to save this land, my people,
all the thousands who are all my children, then so be it.

Let this testament be my voice to the world, that I stood up to crusader attacks of NATO,
stood up to cruelty, stood up to betrayal, stood up the West and its colonialist ambitions,
and that I stood with my African brothers, my true Arab and Muslim brothers, as a beacon of light,
when others were building castles, I lived in a modest house, and in a tent,*
I never forgot my youth in Sirte, I did not spend our national treasury foolishly,
and like Salah’a’deen, our great Muslim leader, who rescued Jerusalem for Islam,
I took little for myself…

In the West, some have called me “mad,” “crazy,” but they know the truth but continue to lie,
they know that our land is independent and free, not in the colonial grip, that my vision,
my path, is, and has been clear and for my people and that I will fight to my last breath to keep us free,
may Allah almighty help us to remain faithful and free.

When Gaddafi was alive
Libya was the only country in the World
That was Free of Debt.

[riposte]

Cherokee Nation
Paul Revere

They took the whole Cherokee Nation
And put us on this reservation
Took away our ways of life
The tomahawk and the bow and knife

They took away our native tongue
And taught their English to our young
And all the beads we made by hand
Are nowadays made in Japan

Cherokee people, Cherokee tribe
So proud to live, so proud to die

They took the whole Indian Nation
And locked us on this reservation
And though I wear a shirt and tie
I'm still a red man deep inside

Cherokee people, Cherokee tribe
So proud to live, so proud to die

But maybe someday when they learn
Cherokee Nation will return

[riposte]

THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING ... Capitalism ..IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING......... Has ..... IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING .... Swallowed .... COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING ........Itself ..... IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING ...... Whole .....IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING
THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING THE CRUNCH IS COMING

© Michael O'Flanagan Sept 2012.

[5intheface]

Two-Town

I suppose it was one shed,
A symmetry of form, split
By airplane-ply he called, ‘parteeshin’,
Vandalised by screeding plans
On one side,
On the other, seedling dates;
‘No admittance except on business’

My mother never went in there,
He wouldn’t let her swing a cat.
That’s what she told me,
‘Worser nor a lint-pullin’ she protested.

The cars demanded it move away from the house,
So we emptied its army-surplus stomach
Until it filled the yard
And my brothers carried it to the field.
All afternoon, the wee ones trailed
Pots and powdered-poisons,
Grapes and long-tail shovels,
Their shafts, glazed black with sweat.

For a few days it was tidy, east and west;
And on the boiler-house roof,
Armstrong’s cat peeked in terror.

[Sam Lord]

A Poem by - Mu'ummar Qaddafi

Omg ...

Up to know everyone imagined that he was killed because he was a tyrant. But it had to be the "poetry". I can imagine the thought of enduring another ode like that was simply unbearable for the Libyan people.

[C. Flower]

Two-Town

I suppose it was one shed,
A symmetry of form, split
By airplane-ply he called, ‘parteeshin’,
Vandalised by screeding plans
On one side,
On the other, seedling dates;
‘No admittance except on business’

My mother never went in there,
He wouldn’t let her swing a cat.
That’s what she told me,
‘Worser nor a lint-pullin’ she protested.

The cars demanded it move away from the house,
So we emptied its army-surplus stomach
Until it filled the yard
And my brothers carried it to the field.
All afternoon, the wee ones trailed
Pots and powdered-poisons,
Grapes and long-tail shovels,
Their shafts, glazed black with sweat.

For a few days it was tidy, east and west;
And on the boiler-house roof,
Armstrong’s cat peeked in terror.

Nice shed

[Kev Bar]

INTERFERENCE

Diary of an illess.
So desperately needed.
My battle with
fear, cancer, baldness, bad breath, death.
Whatever you're having yourself.
Oh so brave.
And not even a breast to lose.
But let's fess up.
This one is not for you.
It's for me.
Not just throwing shapes at fear.
Puckin words.
Cos nothing is remembered.
The last time round.
Unsuccessful
Blank.
Dumb.
Mute.
Just visceral electric howl.
DNA Dylan.
Atonal.
Protest
Ghostly imprint.
But now the comeback tour.
So here we go.
We're here to go.
Whistling in the wind.
Spitting in the gale.
Down dark boreens.
With desperate 'dia dhuit'
Conas ata tu.
Conas ata tu.
Not very well.
Since you ask.
Been a lot better.
But there you are.
A lesson in.
Whatever.
Interfering?
Interferon.
Here we go.
Here to go.
Conas ata tu?

[Sam Lord]

C Is White

C is white
Like the cold tiles of a morgue
Or the keys of a piano

F is green
Like the tropical jungle
heavy and oppressive

D is yelllow
like American mustard
and lively and bright

G is the blue
Of the sea and the sky
Happy, not sad like the blues

E and A are mysteries
keeping their colours hidden.
Is that red I see peeping out? No. Never.

B is muddy brown
Like the Orinoco river
It goes with F like dirt under grass

That's all
I don't do things in halves.