category_1_x_poem.id,category_1.id,category_1.ts,category_1.title,poem.id,poem.ts,poem.title,poem.content,poem.author
50,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,50,"2018-02-27 03:35:58","America poem","Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,And sinks into my throat her tiger's tooth,Stealing my breath of life, I will confessI love this cultured hell that tests my youth!Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,Giving me strength erect against her hate.Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.Yet as a rebel fronts a king in state,I stand within her walls with not a shredOf terror, malice, not a word of jeer.Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,And see her might and granite wonders there,Beneath the touch of Time's unerring hand,Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.","Claude McKay"
51,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,51,"2018-02-27 03:36:03","On Being Brought From Africa To America poem","'Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land,Taught my benighted soul to understandThat there's a God, that there's a Saviour too:Once I redemption neither sought nor knew.Some view our sable race with scornful eye,""Their colour is a diabolic die.""Remember, Christians, Negro's, black as Cain,May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.","Phillis Wheatley"
52,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,52,"2018-02-27 03:36:08","America The Beautiful poem","O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain! America! America! God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea! O beautiful for pilgrim feet, Whose stern, impassioned stress A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness! America! America! God mend thine every flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law! O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife, Who more than self their country loved, And mercy more than life! America! America! May God thy gold refine, Till all success be nobleness, And every gain divine! O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea!","Katharine Lee Bates"
53,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,53,"2018-02-27 03:36:15","I Hear America Singing poem","I Hear America singing, the varied carols I hear; Those of mechanics--each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong; The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam, The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work; The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat--the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck; The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench--the hatter singing as he stands; The wood-cutter's song--the ploughboy's, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown; The delicious singing of the mother--or of the young wife at work--or of the girl sewing or washing--Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else; The day what belongs to the day--At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly, Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.","Walt Whitman"
54,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,54,"2018-02-27 03:36:17","A Farewell To America To Mrs. S. W. poem","I.ADIEU, New-England's smiling meads, Adieu, the flow'ry plain:I leave thine op'ning charms, O spring, And tempt the roaring main. II.In vain for me the flow'rets rise, And boast their gaudy pride,While here beneath the northern skies I mourn for health deny'd. III.Celestial maid of rosy hue, O let me feel thy reign! I languish till thy face I view, Thy vanish'd joys regain. IV.Susanna mourns, nor can I bear To see the crystal show'r,Or mark the tender falling tear At sad departure's hour; V.Not unregarding can I see Her soul with grief opprest:But let no sighs, no groans for me, Steal from her pensive breast. VI.In vain the feather'd warblers sing, In vain the garden blooms,And on the bosom of the spring Breathes out her sweet perfumes. VII.While for Britannia's distant shore We sweep the liquid plain,And with astonish'd eyes explore The wide-extended main. VIII.Lo! Health appears! celestial dame! Complacent and serene,With Hebe's mantle o'er her Frame, With soul-delighting mein. IX.To mark the vale where London lies With misty vapours crown'd,Which cloud Aurora's thousand dyes, And veil her charms around. X.Why, Phoebus, moves thy car so slow? So slow thy rising ray? Give us the famous town to view, Thou glorious king of day! XI.For thee, Britannia, I resign New-England's smiling fields; To view again her charms divine, What joy the prospect yields! XII.But thou! Temptation hence away, With all thy fatal train,Nor once seduce my soul away, By thine enchanting strain. XIII.Thrice happy they, whose heav'nly shield Secures their souls from harms,And fell Temptation on the field Of all its pow'r disarms!","Phillis Wheatley"
55,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,55,"2018-02-27 03:36:20","America, A Prophecy poem","The shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc, When fourteen suns had faintly journey'd o'er his dark abode: His food she brought in iron baskets, his drink in cups of iron: Crown'd with a helmet and dark hair the nameless female stood; A quiver with its burning stores, a bow like that of night, When pestilence is shot from heaven: no other arms she need! Invulnerable though naked, save where clouds roll round her loins Their awful folds in the dark air: silent she stood as night; For never from her iron tongue could voice or sound arise, But dumb till that dread day when Orc assay'd his fierce embrace. 'Dark Virgin,' said the hairy youth, 'thy father stern, abhorr'd, Rivets my tenfold chains while still on high my spirit soars; Sometimes an Eagle screaming in the sky, sometimes a Lion Stalking upon the mountains, and sometimes a Whale, I lash The raging fathomless abyss; anon a Serpent folding Around the pillars of Urthona, and round thy dark limbs On the Canadian wilds I fold; feeble my spirit folds, For chain'd beneath I rend these caverns: when thou bringest food I howl my joy, and my red eyes seek to behold thy face-- In vain! these clouds roll to and fro, and hide thee from my sight.' Silent as despairing love, and strong as jealousy, The hairy shoulders rend the links; free are the wrists of fire; Round the terrific loins he seiz'd the panting, struggling womb; It joy'd: she put aside her clouds and smiled her first-born smile, As when a black cloud shews its lightnings to the silent deep. Soon as she saw the terrible boy, then burst the virgin cry: 'I know thee, I have found thee, and I will not let thee go: Thou art the image of God who dwells in darkness of Africa, And thou art fall'n to give me life in regions of dark death.On my American plains I feel the struggling afflictions Endur'd by roots that writhe their arms into the nether deep. I see a Serpent in Canada who courts me to his love, In Mexico an Eagle, and a Lion in Peru; I see a Whale in the south-sea, drinking my soul away. O what limb-rending pains I feel! thy fire and my frost Mingle in howling pains, in furrows by thy lightnings rent. This is eternal death, and this the torment long foretold.'","William Blake"
56,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,56,"2018-02-27 03:36:24","America For Me poem","'Tis fine to see the Old World and travel up and down Among the famous palaces and cities of renown, To admire the crumblyh castles and the statues and kings But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things. So it's home again, and home again, America for me! My heart is turning home again and there I long to be, In the land of youth and freedom, beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars. Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air; And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair; And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome; But when it comes to living there is no place like home. I like the German fir-woods in green battalions drilled; I like the gardens of Versailles with flashing foutains filled; But, oh, to take your had, my dear, and ramble for a day In the friendly western woodland where Nature has her sway! I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack! The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back. But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free-- We love our land for what she is and what she is to be. Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me! I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea, To the blessed Land of Room Enough, beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.","Henry Van Dyke"
57,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,57,"2018-02-27 03:36:26","A Prophecy: To George Keats In America poem","'Tis the witching hour of night,Orbed is the moon and bright,And the stars they glisten, glisten,Seeming with bright eyes to listen --For what listen they?For a song and for a charm,See they glisten in alarm,And the moon is waxing warmTo hear what I shall say.Moon! keep wide thy golden ears --Hearken, stars! and hearken, spheres! --Hearken, thou eternal sky!I sing an infant's lullaby,A pretty lullaby.Listen, listen, listen, listen, Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,And hear my lullaby!Though the rushes that will makeIts cradle still are in the lake -- Though the linen that will beIts swathe, is on the cotton tree --Though the woollen that will keepIt warm, is on the silly sheep --Listen, starlight, listen, listen,Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,And hear my lullaby!Child, I see thee! Child, I've found theeMidst of the quiet all around thee!And thy mother sweet is nigh thee!But a Poet evermore!See, see, the lyre, the lyre,In a flame of fire,Upon the little cradle's topFlaring, flaring, flaring,Past the eyesight's bearing,Awake it from its sleep,And see if it can keepIts eyes upon the blaze --Amaze, amaze!It stares, it stares, it stares,It dares what no one dares!It lifts its little hand into the flameUnharm'd, and on the stringsPaddles a little tune, and sings,With dumb endeavour sweetly --Bard art thou completely!Little childO' th' western wild,Bard art thou completely!Sweetly with dumb endeavour,A Poet now or never,Little childO' th' western wild,A Poet now or never!","John Keats"
58,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,58,"2018-02-27 03:36:30","America poem","IWhere the wings of a sunny Dome expandI saw a Banner in gladsome air-Starry, like Berenice's Hair-Afloat in broadened bravery there; With undulating long-drawn flow,As rolled Brazilian billows goVoluminously o'er the Line.The Land reposed in peace below; The children in their gleeWere folded to the exulting heartOf young Maternity.IILater, and it streamed in fightWhen tempest mingled with the fray,And over the spear-point of the shaftI saw the ambiguous lightning play.Valor with Valor strove, and died:Fierce was Despair, and cruel was Pride; And the lorn Mother speechless stood,Pale at the fury of her brood.IIIYet later, and the silk did windHer fair cold for; Little availed the shining shroud,Though ruddy in hue, to cheer or warmA watcher looked upon her low, and said-She sleeps, but sleeps, she is not dead.But in that sleep contortion showedThe terror of the vision there-A silent vision unavowed,Revealing earth's foundation bare,And Gorgon in her hidden place.It was a thing of fear to seeSo foul a dream upon so fair a face,And the dreamer lying in that starry shroud.IVBut from the trance she sudden broke-The trance, or death into promoted life; At her feet a shivered yoke,And in her aspect turned to heavenNo trace of passion or of strife-A clear calm look. It spake of pain,But such as purifies from stain-Sharp pangs that never come again-And triumph repressed by knowledge meet,Power delicate, and hope grown wise,And youth matured for age's seat-Law on her brow and empire in her eyes.So she, with graver air and lifted flag; While the shadow, chased by light,Fled along the far-brawn height,And left her on the crag.","Herman Melville"
59,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,59,"2018-02-27 03:36:37","America, America! poem","I am a poet of the Hudson River and the heights above it, the lights, the stars, and the bridgesI am also by self-appointment the laureate of the Atlantic -of the peoples' hearts, crossing it to new America.I am burdened with the truck and chimera, hope, acquired in the sweating sick-excited passage in steerage, strange and estrangedHence I must descry and describe the kingdom of emotion.For I am a poet of the kindergarten (in the city) and the cemetery (in the city)And rapture and ragtime and also the secret city in the heart and mindThis is the song of the natural city self in the 20th century.It is true but only partly true that a city is a ""tyranny of numbers""(This is the chant of the urban metropolitan and metaphysical selfAfter the first two World Wars of the 20th century)--- This is the city self, looking from window to lighted windowWhen the squares and checks of faintly yellow lightShine at night, upon a huge dim board and slab-like tombs,Hiding many lives. It is the city consciousnessWhich sees and says: more: more and more: always more.","Delmore Schwartz"
60,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,60,"2018-02-27 03:36:39","America poem","I love thine inland seas, Thy groves of giant trees,Thy rolling plains;Thy rivers' mighty sweep, Thy mystic canyons deep, Thy mountains wild and steep,All thy domains; Thy silver Eastern strands, Thy Golden Gate that standsWide to the West;Thy flowery Southland fair, Thy sweet and crystal air, --O land beyond compare,Thee I love best! Additional verses for the National Hymn, March, 1906.","Henry Van Dyke"
61,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,61,"2018-02-27 03:36:44","One Song, America, Before I Go poem","ONE song, America, before I go, I'd sing, o'er all the rest, with trumpet sound, For thee--the Future. I'd sow a seed for thee of endless Nationality; I'd fashion thy Ensemble, including Body and Soul; I'd show, away ahead, thy real Union, and how it may be accomplish'd. (The paths to the House I seek to make, But leave to those to come, the House itself.) Belief I sing--and Preparation; As Life and Nature are not great with reference to the Present only, 10 But greater still from what is yet to come, Out of that formula for Thee I sing.","Walt Whitman"
62,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,62,"2018-02-27 03:36:49","Long, Too Long America poem","Long, too long America, Traveling roads all even and peaceful you learn'd from joys and prosperity only, But now, ah now, to learn from crises of anguish, advancing, grappling with direst fate and recoiling not, And now to conceive and show to the world what your children en-masse really are, (For who except myself has yet conceiv'd what your children en-masse really are?)","Walt Whitman"
63,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,63,"2018-02-27 03:36:52","America poem","America, you ode for reality!Give back the people you took.Let the sun shine againon the four corners of the worldyou thought of first but do notown, or keep like a convenience.People are your own word, youinvented that locus and term.Here, you said and say, iswhere we are. Give backwhat we are, these people you made,us, and nowhere but you to be.","Robert Creeley"
64,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,64,"2018-02-27 03:36:54","The Greatest Thing In North America poem","This is the greatest thing in North America:Europe is the greatest thing in North America!High in the sky, dark in the heart, and always thereAmong the natural powers of sunlight and of air,Changing, second by second, shifting and changing the light,Bring fresh rain to the stone of the library steps.Under the famous names upon the pediment: Thales, Aristotle,Cicero, Augustine, Scotus, Galileo,Joseph, Odysseus, Hamlet, Columbus and Spinoza,Anna Karenina, Alyosha Karamazov, Sherlock Holmes.And the last three also live upon the silver screenThree blocks away, in moonlight's artificial day,A double bill in the darkened palace whirled,And the veritable glittering light of the turning world'sBurning mind and blazing imagination, showing, day by dayAnd week after week the desires of the heart and mindOf all the living souls yearning everywhereFrom Canada to Panama, from Brooklyn to Paraguay,From Cuba to Vancouver, every afternoon and every night.","Delmore Schwartz"
65,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,65,"2018-02-27 03:36:56","A Message To America poem","You have the grit and the guts, I know; You are ready to answer blow for blow You are virile, combative, stubborn, hard, But your honor ends with your own back-yard; Each man intent on his private goal, You have no feeling for the whole; What singly none would tolerate You let unpunished hit the state, Unmindful that each man must share The stain he lets his country wear, And (what no traveller ignores) That her good name is often yours. You are proud in the pride that feels its might; From your imaginary height Men of another race or hue Are men of a lesser breed to you: The neighbor at your southern gate You treat with the scorn that has bred his hate. To lend a spice to your disrespect You call him the ""greaser"". But reflect! The greaser has spat on you more than once; He has handed you multiple affronts; He has robbed you, banished you, burned and killed; He has gone untrounced for the blood he spilled; He has jeering used for his bootblack's rag The stars and stripes of the gringo's flag; And you, in the depths of your easy-chair -- What did you do, what did you care? Did you find the season too cold and damp To change the counter for the camp? Were you frightened by fevers in Mexico? I can't imagine, but this I know -- You are impassioned vastly more By the news of the daily baseball score Than to hear that a dozen countrymen Have perished somewhere in Darien, That greasers have taken their innocent lives And robbed their holdings and raped their wives. Not by rough tongues and ready fists Can you hope to jilt in the modern lists. The armies of a littler folk Shall pass you under the victor's yoke, Sobeit a nation that trains her sons To ride their horses and point their guns -- Sobeit a people that comprehends The limit where private pleasure ends And where their public dues begin, A people made strong by discipline Who are willing to give -- what you've no mind to -- And understand -- what you are blind to -- The things that the individual Must sacrifice for the good of all. You have a leader who knows -- the man Most fit to be called American, A prophet that once in generations Is given to point to erring nations Brighter ideals toward which to press And lead them out of the wilderness. Will you turn your back on him once again? Will you give the tiller once more to men Who have made your country the laughing-stock For the older peoples to scorn and mock, Who would make you servile, despised, and weak, A country that turns the other cheek, Who care not how bravely your flag may float, Who answer an insult with a note, Whose way is the easy way in all, And, seeing that polished arms appal Their marrow of milk-fed pacifist, Would tell you menace does not exist? Are these, in the world's great parliament, The men you would choose to represent Your honor, your manhood, and your pride, And the virtues your fathers dignified? Oh, bury them deeper than the sea In universal obloquy; Forget the ground where they lie, or write For epitaph: ""Too proud to fight."" I have been too long from my country's shores To reckon what state of mind is yours, But as for myself I know right well I would go through fire and shot and shell And face new perils and make my bed In new privations, if ROOSEVELT led; But I have given my heart and hand To serve, in serving another land, Ideals kept bright that with you are dim; Here men can thrill to their country's hymn, For the passion that wells in the Marseillaise Is the same that fires the French these days, And, when the flag that they love goes by, With swelling bosom and moistened eye They can look, for they know that it floats there still By the might of their hands and the strength of their will, And through perils countless and trials unknown Its honor each man has made his own. They wanted the war no more than you, But they saw how the certain menace grew, And they gave two years of their youth or three The more to insure their liberty When the wrath of rifles and pennoned spears Should roll like a flood on their wrecked frontiers. They wanted the war no more than you, But when the dreadful summons blew And the time to settle the quarrel came They sprang to their guns, each man was game; And mark if they fight not to the last For their hearths, their altars, and their past: Yea, fight till their veins have been bled dry For love of the country that WILL not die. O friends, in your fortunate present ease (Yet faced by the self-same facts as these), If you would see how a race can soar That has no love, but no fear, of war, How each can turn from his private role That all may act as a perfect whole, How men can live up to the place they claim And a nation, jealous of its good name, Be true to its proud inheritance, Oh, look over here and learn from FRANCE!","Alan Seeger"
66,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,66,"2018-02-27 03:37:00","America poem","OH mother of a mighty race,Yet lovely in thy youthful grace!The elder dames, thy haughty peers,Admire and hate thy blooming years.With words of shame And taunts of scorn they join thy name.For on thy cheeks the glow is spreadThat tints thy morning hills with red;Thy step—the wild deer’s rustling feetWithin thy woods are not more fleet; Thy hopeful eyeIs bright as thine own sunny sky.Ay, let them rail—those haughty ones,While safe thou dwellest with thy sons.They do not know how loved thou art, How many a fond and fearless heartWould rise to throwIts life between thee and the foe.They know not, in their hate and pride,What virtues with thy children bide; How true, how good, thy graceful maidsMake bright, like flowers, the valley shades;What generous menSpring, like thine oaks, by hill and glen;—What cordial welcomes greet the guest By thy lone rivers of the West;How faith is kept, and truth revered,And man is loved, and God is feared,In woodland homes,And where the ocean border foams. There ’s freedom at thy gates and restFor Earth’s down-trodden and opprest,A shelter for the hunted head,For the starved laborer toil and bread.Power, at thy bounds, Stops and calls back his baffled hounds.Oh, fair young mother! on thy browShall sit a nobler grace than now.Deep in the brightness of the skiesThe thronging years in glory rise, And, as they fleet,Drop strength and riches at thy feet.Thine eye, with every coming hour,Shall brighten, and thy form shall tower;And when thy sisters, elder born, Would brand thy name with words of scorn,Before thine eye,Upon their lips the taunt shall die.","William Cullen Bryant"
67,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,67,"2018-02-27 03:37:04","America poem","Once in English they said America. Was it English to them.Once they said Belgian.We like a fog.Do you for weather.Are we brave.Are we true.Have we the national colour.Can we stand ditches.Can we mean well.Do we talk together.Have we red cross.A great many people speak of feet.And socks.","Gertrude Stein"
68,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,68,"2018-02-27 03:37:07","' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' .. poem","First one footthen gingerly the othersteps from the swivelchair to the table topwhere blindly you fiddle with the slatscaught - now - un-caught -still sleepyI turn to see younaked againstskyscrapers& mewing like a kittystuck up a tree.'Help ne... help medown! 'as the swivel chairspins around andaway.You look so goodI looktwicebefore takingyour nakednessin handlowering yougently to the ground& then ever moregently to the bed.You purrOutsideNew Yorkcontinues to beNew York.Times Square...Time Squares.The soundof kissesovercomingthe traffic'sroar.*******The Sheraton New York & Towers Hotel...midnight...Christmas Eve's eve.2009","Dónall Dempsey"
69,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,69,"2018-02-27 03:37:14","America poem","America the beautiful, America the great, America suits us all, America I cannot hateAmerica we've come so far, America the free, If we wish upon a star, Then that wish shall be","Olivia Taylor"
70,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,70,"2018-02-27 03:37:17","America Politica Historia, In Spontaneity poem","O this political air so heavy with the bells and motors of a slow night, and no place to rest but rain to walk—How it rings the Washington streets! The umbrella’d congressmen; the rapping tires of big black cars, the shoulders of lobbyists caught under canopies and in doorways, and it rains, it will not let up, and meanwhile lame futurists weep into Spengler’s prophecy, will the world be over before the races blend color? All color must be one or let the world be done— There’ll be a chance, we’ll all be orange! I don’t want to be orange! Nothing about God’s color to complain; and there is a beauty in yellow, the old Lama in his robe the color of Cathay; in black a strong & vital beauty, Thelonious Monk in his robe of Norman charcoal— And if Western Civilization comes to an end (though I doubt it, for the prophet has not executed his prophecy) surely the Eastern child will sit by a window, and wonder the old statues, the ornamented doors; the decorated banquet of the West— Inflamed by futurists I too weep in rain at night at the midnight of Western Civilization; Dante’s step into Hell will never be forgotten by Hell; the Gods’ adoption of Homer will never be forgotten by the Gods; the books of France are on God’s bookshelf; no civil war will take place on the fields of God; and I don’t doubt the egg of the East its glory— Yet it rains and the motors go and continued when I slept by that wall in Washington which separated the motors in the death-parlor where Joe McCarthy lay, lean and stilled, ten blocks from the Capitol— I could never understand Uncle Sam his red & white striped pants his funny whiskers his starry hat: how surreal Yankee Doodle Dandy, goof! American history has a way of making you feel George Washington is still around, that is when I think of Washington I do not think of Death— Of all Presidents I have been under Hoover is the most unreal and FDR is the most President-looking and Truman the most Jewish-looking and Eisenhower the miscast of Time into Space— Hoover is another America, Mr. 1930 and what must he be thinking now? FDR was my youth, and how strange to still see his wife around. Truman is still in Presidential time. I saw Eisenhower helicopter over Athens and he looked at the Acropolis like only Zeus could. OF THE PEOPLE is fortunate and select. FOR THE PEOPLE has never happened in America or elsewhere. BY THE PEOPLE is the sadness of America. I am not politic. I am not patriotic. I am nationalistic! I boast well the beauty of America to all the people in Europe. In me they do not see their vision of America. O whenever I pass an American Embassy I don’t know what to feel! Sometimes I want to rush in and scream: “I’m American!” but instead go a few paces down to the American Bar get drunk and cry: “I’m no American!” The men of politics I love are but youth’s fantasy: The fine profile of Washington on coins stamps & tobacco wraps The handsomeness and death-in-the-snow of Hamilton. The eyeglasses shoe-buckles kites & keys of Ben Franklin. The sweet melancholy of Lincoln. The way I see Christ, as something romantic & unreal, is the way I see them. An American is unique among peoples. He looks and acts like a boyman. He never looks cruel in uniform. He is rednecked portly rich and jolly. White-haired serious Harvard, kind and wry. A convention man a family man a rotary man & practical joker. He is moonfaced cunning well-meaning & righteously mean. He is Madison Avenue, handsome, in-the-know, and superstitious. He is odd, happy, quicker than light, shameless, and heroic Great yawn of youth! The young don’t seem interested in politics anymore. Politics has lost its romance! The “bloody kitchen” has drowned! And all that is left are those granite façades of Pentagon, Justice, and Department— Politicians do not know youth! They depend on the old and the old depend on them and lo! this has given youth a chance to think of heaven in their independence. No need to give them liberty or freedom where they’re at— When Stevenson in 1956 came to San Francisco he campaigned in what he thought was an Italian section! He spoke of Italy and Joe DiMaggio and spaghetti, but all who were there, all for him, were young beatniks! and when his car drove off Ginsberg & I ran up to him and yelled: “When are you going to free the poets from their attics!” Great yawn of youth! Mad beautiful oldyoung America has no candidate the craziest wildest greatest country of them all! and not one candidate— Nixon arrives ever so temporal, self-made, frontways sideways and backways, could he be America’s against? Detour to vehicle? Mast to wind? Shore to sea? Death to life? The last President?","Gregory Corso"
71,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,71,"2018-02-27 03:37:21","America To England poem","1899Who would trust England, let him lift his eyes To Nelson, columned o'er Trafalgar Square, Her hieroglyph of duty, written where The roar of traffic hushes to the skies; Or mark, while Paul's vast shadow softly lies On Gordon's statued sleep, how praise and prayer Flush through the frank young faces clustering there To con that kindred rune of sacrifice. O England, no bland cloud-ship in the blue, But rough oak plunging on o'er perilous jars Of reef and ice, our faith will follow you The more for tempest roar that strains your spars And splits your canvas, be your helm but true, Your courses shapen by the eternal stars.1900The nightmare melts at last, and London wakes To her old habit of victorious ease. More men, and more, and more for over-seas, More guns until the giant hammer breaks That patriot folk whom even God forsakes. Shall not Great England work her will on these, The foolish little nations, and appease An angry shame that in her memory aches? But far beyond the fierce-contested flood, The cannon-planted pass, the shell-torn town, The last wild carnival of fire and blood, Beware, beware that dim and awful Shade, Armored with Milton's sword and Cromwell's frown, Affronted Freedom, of her own betrayed!","Katharine Lee Bates"
72,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,72,"2018-02-27 03:37:24","*america - * poem","-for pilgrim sake, and land once, of 'Native' soilAllegiance pledged, ofconquest gained, fromEarth's borne spirits' bold.America, Proud AmericaOur Earth, need not be harmedwhen war tales are often told and blood stained flags, unfoldAmerica, we Love thee of gifted Earth bequeathedne'er we forget, Democracy, and all those enslaved, be freeAmerica AmericaMay true freedom be our QuestOf Womanhood and Brotherhoodfrom shore to ocean sea.'With Love and Compassion, Wherever Earth Be Shared' Please; 'Support Peace'Louie LevyWW ll Vet.","Louie Levy"
73,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,73,"2018-02-27 03:37:29","God Bless Us (America America America .. poem","O Lord, our refuge and strengthWhen it's 'in God we trust'The foe has struck your firstbornWith a great infamous thrustLike history repeatedA Trojan Horse awaitTo massacre the blamelessA 'Nine-eleven' fateThey've dared defy an armyThat does proclaim you LordDeliver US from their handWhet your glittering swordOur Father who's in heavenShield US, your battle axeGuard these in Thy replevinThen Babylon do taxGive US righteous victoryIn Thy name, Lord of hostSo that all the earth may know'In God we trust' foremostO Lord, our Rock and fortress'Land of the Free' protectKeep US strong 'til Shiloh comeThen on to Him collectHe maketh the wars to ceaseUnto the end of earthBreaketh bow, cut sunder spearTo chariots flame's birth'Be calm, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.'*The Lord of hosts is with USOur refuge we proclaimBless US in our endeavorWe ask in Jesus name*Psalms 46: 10, Inspired by Jeremiah Chapters 50 and 51© 2011","Udiah (witness to Yah)"
74,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,74,"2018-02-27 03:37:33","America poem","Glorious daughter of time! Thou of the mild blue eye -- Thou of the virginal forehead --pallid, unfurrowed of tears-- Thou of the strong white hands with fingers dipped in the dye Of the blood that quickened the fathers of thee, in the ancient years, Leave thou the path of the beasts. Return thou again to the hills, Forsake thou the deserts of death, where ever the burning thirst, Flames in the throat for blood, for the vile desire that kills, Where the treacherous sands by the rebel cerastes are cursed, And the wastes are strewn with the bones of folly and hate. Return! where the sunlight gladdens the places of green, Where the stars comes forth, the heralds of faith and fate, And the winds of eternity breathe from a day unseen. Thou! what hast thou to do with a time burnt out and done? With the old Serbonian bog-- the marshes where nations were lost? Where wailings are heard of the dead, of the slaughtered Roman and Hun, And phosphorent lights arise in the hands of a stricken ghost, Dreaming of splendors of battle that glanced from a million shields, When the C¾sars pillaged for lust of gold and hunger of power; And the giants of Gothland festered and stank on the stretching fields, And the gods of the living were cursed, too weak to reveal the hour, When they should triumph and others should writhe in a dread defeat, In the day of thy grace, O fair and false to thy fathers and time, O thou whom the snares of kings already encompass thy feet, With thy singing robes besprent with the old Egyptian slime. But thou hast harkened to guile, to the cunning words of shame, To the tempter with pieces of gold and the praise of the drunken throng. Scornfully push from their hands the crown of a common fame, Not made for thy peaceful brows, for thou wert not born for wrong. Thou art the fruit of the groaning cycles of hope and love, Told of by maddened prophets who never beheld thy face, Who drew from the teeming earth and the fetterless sky above, That man was made to be free, and to stamp under foot the mace. How should thy innocent eyes ever leer with a reddened look? Or thy hair be scented save of the measureless sea? Or thy feet know the ways of deceit, wrote out in the murderous book, By monarchs who shrank from the scourging and doom of thy strength and thee? Beloved of time and of fate, cherished of justice and truth, Yet thou art free to do, to choose the ill and to die; To squander thy beauty for hire, to waste thy eternal youth -- For thou art eternal, if thou heedst them not, but pass by, Pass and return to the mountains of freedom and peace, Where heavenward flame the fires, where the torches may be relumed, To girdle the world with the light that was kindled in olden Greece; Or that the sparks may be scattered wherever injustice has doomed, Darkness to be the portion of those who famish for light. Be thou the great rock's shadow cast in a weary land, Be thou a star of guidance true in a wintry night, Be thou thyself, and thyself alone, as heaven hath planned.","Edgar Lee Masters"
75,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,75,"2018-02-27 03:37:37","Circular From America poem","Against the eagledHemisphereI lean my eagerEditorial earAnd what the devilYou think I hear?I hear the BeatNo not of the heartBut the dull palpitationOf the New ArtAs, on the dead tread,Mill of no mind,It follows its leadersUnbeaten behind.O Kerouac KerouacWhat on earth shall we doIf a single IdeaEver gets through?. . . 1/2 an ideaTo a hundred pagesNow Jack, dear Jack,That ain't fair wagesFor labouring throughProse that takes agesJust to announceThat Gods and MenOught all to studyThe Book of Zen.If you really thinkSo low of the soulWhy don't you writeOn a toilet roll?","George Barker"
76,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,76,"2018-02-27 03:37:43","To Walt Whitman In America poem","Send but a song oversea for us, Heart of their hearts who are free,Heart of their singer, to be for us More than our singing can be;Ours, in the tempest at error,With no light but the twilight of terror; Send us a song oversea!Sweet-smelling of pine-leaves and grasses, And blown as a tree through and throughWith the winds of the keen mountain-passes, And tender as sun-smitten dew;Sharp-tongued as the winter that shakesThe wastes of your limitless lakes, Wide-eyed as the sea-line's blue.O strong-winged soul with prophetic Lips hot with the bloodheats of song,With tremor of heartstrings magnetic, With thoughts as thunders in throng,With consonant ardours of chordsThat pierce men's souls as with swords And hale them hearing along,Make us too music, to be with us As a word from a world's heart warm,To sail the dark as a sea with us, Full-sailed, outsinging the storm,A song to put fire in our earsWhose burning shall burn up tears, Whose sign bid battle reform;A note in the ranks of a clarion, A word in the wind of cheer,To consume as with lightning the carrion That makes time foul for us here;In the air that our dead things infestA blast of the breath of the west, Till east way as west way is clear.Out of the sun beyond sunset, From the evening whence morning shall be,With the rollers in measureless onset, With the van of the storming sea,With the world-wide wind, with the breathThat breaks ships driven upon death, With the passion of all things free,With the sea-steeds footless and frantic, White myriads for death to bestrideIn the charge of the ruining Atlantic Where deaths by regiments ride,With clouds and clamours of waters,With a long note shriller than slaughter's On the furrowless fields world-wide,With terror, with ardour and wonder, With the soul of the season that wakesWhen the weight of a whole year's thunder In the tidestream of autumn breaks,Let the flight of the wide-winged wordCome over, come in and be heard, Take form and fire for our sakes.For a continent bloodless with travail Here toils and brawls as it can,And the web of it who shall unravel Of all that peer on the plan;Would fain grow men, but they grow not,And fain be free, but they know not One name for freedom and man?One name, not twain for division; One thing, not twain, from the birth;Spirit and substance and vision, Worth more than worship is worth;Unbeheld, unadored, undivined,The cause, the centre, the mind, The secret and sense of the earth.Here as a weakling in irons, Here as a weanling in bands,As a prey that the stake-net environs, Our life that we looked for stands;And the man-child naked and dear,Democracy, turns on us here Eyes trembling with tremulous handsIt sees not what season shall bring to it Sweet fruit of its bitter desire;Few voices it hears yet sing to it, Few pulses of hearts reaspire;Foresees not time, nor forehearsThe noises of imminent years, Earthquake, and thunder, and fire:When crowned and weaponed and curbless It shall walk without helm or shieldThe bare burnt furrows and herbless Of war's last flame-stricken field,Till godlike, equal with time,It stand in the sun sublime, In the godhead of man revealed.Round your people and over them Light like raiment is drawn,Close as a garment to cover them Wrought not of mail nor of lawn;Here, with hope hardly to wear,Naked nations and bare Swim, sink, strike out for the dawn.Chains are here, and a prison, Kings, and subjects, and shame;If the God upon you be arisen, How should our songs be the same?How, in confusion of change,How shall we sing, in a strange Land, songs praising his name?God is buried and dead to us, Even the spirit of earth,Freedom; so have they said to us, Some with mocking and mirth,Some with heartbreak and tears;And a God without eyes, without ears, Who shall sing of him, dead in the birth?The earth-god Freedom, the lonely Face lightening, the footprint unshod,Not as one man crucified only Nor scourged with but one life's rod;The soul that is substance of nations,Reincarnate with fresh generations; The great god Man, which is God.But in weariest of years and obscurest Doth it live not at heart of all things,The one God and one spirit, a purest Life, fed from unstanchable springs?Within love, within hatred it is,And its seed in the stripe as the kiss, And in slaves is the germ, and in kings.Freedom we call it, for holier Name of the soul's there is none;Surelier it labours if slowlier, Than the metres of star or of sun;Slowlier than life into breath,Surelier than time into death, It moves till its labour be done.Till the motion be done and the measure Circling through season and clime,Slumber and sorrow and pleasure, Vision of virtue and crime;Till consummate with conquering eyes,A soul disembodied, it rise From the body transfigured of time.Till it rise and remain and take station With the stars of the worlds that rejoice;Till the voice of its heart's exultation Be as theirs an invariable voice;By no discord of evil estranged,By no pause, by no breach in it changed, By no clash in the chord of its choice.It is one with the world's generations, With the spirit, the star, and the sod;With the kingless and king-stricken nations, With the cross, and the chain, and the rod;The most high, the most secret, most lonely,The earth-soul Freedom, that only Lives, and that only is God.","Algernon Charles Swinburne"
77,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,77,"2018-02-27 03:37:47","England To America poem","And what of thee, O Lincoln's Land? What gloom Is darkening above the Sunset Sea? Vowed Champion of Liberty, deplume Thy war-crest, bow thy knee, Before God answer thee.What talk is thine of rebels? Didst thou turn, My very child, thy vaunted sword on me, To scoff to-day at patriot fires that burn In hearts unbound to thee, Flames of the Sunset Sea?","Katharine Lee Bates"
78,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,78,"2018-02-27 03:37:51","America In 1804 poem","(America Conquers Europe.) Foul shapes that hate the day, again grown bold, Late driven hence, infested fane and court. The laurels of our victory were amort. Vile King-craft with his breed of blood and gold Took heart to see the ancient wrongs infold Our life, and childish figments which disport I' that pale light whose essence mayn't support Realities, in Freedom's hall to hold Sick carnival did troop. But at the height Of that debauch, while yet could be erased The smut and spittle from the sacred chart, Written in blood --a man whose soul gave light Intolerable to kings, their power abased, As he subdued the empire of the heart.","Edgar Lee Masters"
79,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,79,"2018-02-27 03:37:55","Concept Of America (America America Am.. poem","People unitedTo secure their libertyOut of many, oneI've written a letter for anyone who cares where this great country of ours is heading. It has bothered some on this poetry sight so much they have had it removed from the search engine, despite my many attempts at restoring it. Why do they allow certain authors to lambaste our great country, while anyone trying to bring forth the truth is silenced? The letter is entitled 'Our Liberty' © 2011America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America America freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku haiku","Udiah (witness to Yah)"
80,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,80,"2018-02-27 03:37:57","America In 1904 poem","(Europe Conquers America.) Strong for the strong and in his own conceit; Half-boy, half-madman, playing with the fire; Usurper, hoodlum, wed to his desire; Loud in the hunt--afraid albeit to beat The wolves which reared him--always with swift feet, Booted and spurred to huddle in the mire The malcontents, though Freedom die--no higher Launching his truncheon; only to the street Thundering at millionaires; unlearned, though read, In human agony--surrendered up To glory, war--of empty pomp the chief-- Europa, thou hast conquered! with bowed head For Freedom slain (who prayed might pass the cup) We pray, in faith, thy triumph may be brief!","Edgar Lee Masters"
81,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,81,"2018-02-27 03:38:02","America, The Good Neighbour poem","It is time that I speak up for what they call Americafor a people not appreciated much, they are generous to all and help the needy near and farmillions gladly felt the good old Yankee touch.There is Germany and Britain, and Japan and Italythey were showered with those dollars and forgivenmany debts were cancelled all to end their self-caused miserynew investments, new economies were driven. While some debts remained in place and should be honoured as of rightit is clear that not one country pays a dime, you would think that just the interest would be given without fightbut the world does not regard this as a crime.It was nineteen-fifty-six and Vive La France was near collapseguess who came to prop her up in those dark days? Yes it was the helpful Yankees, while De Gaulle was taking napsbut the money disappeared into the haze.Look at earthquakes in those regions where the people are so poorwho will hurry to the places and assist, yet tornadoes flatten cities in the homeland every yearany helpers must have faded in the mist.When the Marshall Plan pumped billions into countries destitutethere were smiles of gratitude on every faceyet today their papers write about the decadent disputeand are calling them the warring tyrant race.Look at planes that fly those people in convenient and safe tripsto the places where the world looks not like home should you hear the names of Boeing, DC-Ten on foreign lipson the way to a now free and prosperous Rome? When the railways broke in Germany, in France and Indiathey were rebuilt by Americans, my word, when they did collapse at home, in Pennsylvania and New York no single miracle occurred.No one lend them even one lousy caboose. I can name five thousand times when old America would actwhile the rest of our great world were in a snooze. Take an earthquake on the coast, and with little left intactwho of all the mentioned countries would be seen? I could go and tell you more but maybe all will get the gistthat Americans have always been too keento be nurse and, yes policeman while the envious souls get pissedso America, you ought to stand up tall.No one stands with you in times when there is need for a strong shoulderthat could help you and prevent that some might fallI have seen you go alone and with your goodness move the boulderwhile the sneering and the whistling could be heard.And today, courageous people, you are faced with a new foethat will plant your precious boys deep in the dirtonce again the world is watching and enjoying their own showscreaming insults, throwing rocks at simple folks.It is not the Ma's and Pa's or all their offspring that is badand there really is no room for your poor jokes.It is George and Donald and some others who've gone madas the devil of Big Greed has grabbed their hand.Uncle Sam and his mean henchmen need to go inside a cellso the people can get back their promised land.And I pray for my America, Get Well. Note: This was inspired by the radio address of Gordon Sinclair, a Canadian, in the seventies. I kept the title as well","Herbert Nehrlich"
82,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,82,"2018-02-27 03:38:08","Part 1 Of Trout Fishing In America poem","THE COVER FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICAThe cover for Trout Fishing in America is a photograph takenlate in the afternoon, a photograph of the Benjamin Franklinstatue in San Francisco's Washington Square.Born 1706--Died 1790, Benjamin Franklin stands on a pedestal that looks like a house containing stone furniture. He holds some papers in one hand and his hat in the other.Then the statue speaks, saying in marble: PRESENTED BY H. D. COGSWELL TO OUR BOYS AND GIRLS WHO WILL SOON TAKE OUR PLACES AND PASS ON.Around the base of the statue are four words facing thedirections of this world, to the east WELCOME, to the westWELCOME, to the north WELCOME, to the south WELCOME.Just behind the statue are three poplar trees, almost leafless except for the top branches. The statue stands in frontof the middle tree. All around the grass is wet from the rains of early February. In the background is a tall cypress tree, almost dark likea room. Adlai Stevenson spoke under the tree in 1956, before a crowd of 40, 000 people. There is a tall church across the street from the statuewith crosses, steeples, bells and a vast door that looks like a huge mousehole, perhaps from a Tom and Jerry cartoon, and written above the door is 'Per L'Universo.' Around five o'clock in the afternoon of my cover forTrout Fishing in America, people gather in the park across the street from the church and they are hungry.It's sandwich time for the poor.But they cannot cross the street until the signal is given.Then they all run across the street to the church and gettheir sandwiches that are wrapped in newspaper. They goback to the park and unwrap the newspaper and see what theirsandwiches are all about.A friend of mine unwrapped his sandwich one afternoonand looked inside to find just a leaf of spinach. That was all.Was it Kafka who learned about America by reading the autobiography of Benjamin Franklin..............Kafka who said, 'I like the Americans because they are healthyand optimistic.'","Richard Brautigan"
83,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,83,"2018-02-27 03:38:14","A Poem, On The Rising Glory Of America poem","LEANDER. No more of Memphis and her mighty kings, Or Alexandria, where the Ptolomies. Taught golden commerce to unfurl her falls, And bid fair science smile: No more of Greece Where learning next her early visit paid, And spread her glories to illume the world, No more of Athens, where she flourished, And saw her sons of mighty genius rise Smooth flowing Plato, Socrates and him Who with resistless eloquence reviv'd The Spir't of Liberty, and shook the thrones Of Macedon and Persia's haughty king. No more of Rome enlighten'd by her beams, Fresh kindling there the fire of eloquence, And poesy divine; imperial Rome! Whose wide dominion reach'd o'er half the globe; Whose eagle flew o'er Ganges to the East, And in the West far to the British isles. No more of Britain, and her kings renown'd, Edward's and Henry's thunderbolts of war; Her chiefs victorious o'er the Gallic foe; Illustrious senators, immortal bards, And wise philosophers, of these no more. A Theme more new, tho' not less noble claims Our ev'ry thought on this auspicious day The rising glory of this western world, Where now the dawning light of science spreads Her orient ray, and wakes the muse's song; Where freedom holds her sacred standard high, And commerce rolls her golden tides profuse Of elegance and ev'ry joy of life. ACASTO. Since then Leander you attempt a strain So new, so noble and so full of fame; And since a friendly concourse centers here America's own sons, begin O muse! Now thro' the veil of ancient days review The period fam'd when first Columbus touch'd The shore so long unknown, thro' various toils, Famine and death, the hero made his way, Thro' oceans bestowing with eternal storms. But why, thus hap'ly found, should we resume The tale of Cortez, furious chief, ordain'd With Indian blood to dye the sands, and choak Fam'd Amazonia's stream with dead! Or why, Once more revive the story old in fame, Of Atabilipa by thirst of gold Depriv'd of life: which not Peru's rich ore, Nor Mexico's vast mines cou'd then redeem. Better these northern realms deserve our song, Discover'd by Britannia for her sons; Undeluged with seas of Indian blood, Which cruel Spain on southern regions spilt; To gain by terrors what the gen'rous breast Wins by fair treaty, conquers without blood. EUGENIO. High in renown th' intreprid hero stands, From Europes shores advent'ring first to try New seas, new oceans, unexplor'd by man. Fam'd Cabot too may claim our noblest song, Who from th' Atlantic surge descry'd these shores, As on he coasted from the Mexic bay To Acady and piny Labradore. Nor less than him the muse would celebrate Bold Hudson stemming to the pole, thro' seas Vex'd with continual storms, thro' the cold strains, Where Europe and America oppose Their shores contiguous, and the northern sea Confin'd, indignant, swells and roars between. With these be number'd in the list of fame Illustrious Raleigh, hapless in his fate: Forgive me Raleigh, if an infant muse Borrows thy name to grace her humble strain; By many nobler are thy virtues sung; Envy no more shall throw them in the shade; They pour new lustre on Britannia's isle. Thou too, advent'rous on th' Atlantic main, Burst thro' its storms and fair Virginia hail'd. The simple natives saw thy canvas flow, And gaz'd aloof upon the shady shore: For in her woods America contain'd, From times remote, a savage race of men. How shall we know their origin, how tell, From whence or where the Indian tribes arose? ACASTO. And long has this defy'd the sages skill T' investigate: Tradition seems to hide The mighty secret from each mortal eye, How first these various nations South and North Possest these shores, or from what countries came. Whether they sprang from some premoeval head In their own lands, like Adam in the East; Yet this the sacred oracles deny, And reason too reclaims against the thought. For when the gen'ral deluge drown'd the world, Where could their tribes have found security? Where find their fate but in the ghastly deep? Unless, as others dream, some chosen few High on the Andes 'scap'd the gen'ral death, High on the Andes wrapt in endless snow, Where winter in his wildest fury reigns. But here Philosophers oppose the scheme, The earth, say they, nor hills nor mountains knew E'er yet the universal flood prevail'd: But when the mighty waters rose aloft Rous'd by the winds, they shook their solid case And in convulsions tore the drowned world! 'Till by the winds assuag'd they quickly fell And all their ragged bed exposed to view. Perhaps far wand'ring towards the northren pole, The straits of Zembla and the Frozen Zone, And where the eastern Greenland almost joins America's north point, the hardy tribes Of banish'd Jews, Siberians, Tartars wild Came over icy mountains, or on floats First reach'd these coasts hid from the world beside. And yet another argument more strange Reserv'd for men of deeper thought and late Presents itself to view: In Pelag's days, So says the Hebrew seer's inspired pen, This mighty mass of earth, this solid globe Was cleft in twain--cleft east and west apart While strait between the deep Atlantic roll'd. And traces indisputable remain Of this unhappy land now sunk and lost; The islands rising in the eastern main Are but small fragments of this continent, Whose two extremities were Newfoudland And St. Helena.--One far in the north Where British seamen now with strange surprise Behold the pole star glitt'ring o'er their heads; The other in the southern tropic rears Its head above the waves; Bermudas and Canary isles, Britannia and th' Azores, With fam'd Hibernia are but broken parts Of some prodigious waste which once sustain'd Armies by lands, where now but ships can range. LEANDER. Your sophistry Acasto makes me smile; The roving mind of man delights to dwell On hidden things, merely because they're hid; He thinks his knowledge ne'er can reach too high And boldly pierces nature's inmost haunts But for uncertainties; your broken isles, You northern Tartars, and your wand'ring Jews. Hear what the voice of history proclaims. The Carthaginians, e'er the Roman yoke Broke their proud spirits and enslav'd them too, For navigation were renown'd as much As haughty Tyre with all her hundred fleets; Full many: league their vent'rous seamen sail'd Thro' strait Gibraltar down the western shore Of Africa, and to Canary isles By them call'd fortunate, so Flaccus sings, Because eternal spring there crowns the fields, And fruits delicious bloom throughout the year. From voyaging here this inference I draw, Perhaps some barque with all her num'rous crew Caught by the eastern trade wind hurry'd on Before th' steady blast to Brazil's shore, New Amazonia and the coasts more south. Here standing and unable to return, For ever from their native skies estrang'd, Doubtless they made the unknown land their own. And in the course of many rolling years A num'rous progeny from these arose, And spread throughout the coasts; those whom we call Brazilians, Mexicans, Peruvians rich, Th' tribes of Chili, Paragon and those Who till the shores of Amazon's long stream. When first the pow'rs of Europe here attain'd Vast empires, kingdoms, cities, palaces And polish'd nations stock'd the fertile land. Who has not heard of Cusco, Lima and The town of Mexico; huge cities form'd From Europe's architecture, e're the arms Of haughty Spain disturb'd the peaceful soil. EUGENIO. Such disquisition leads the puzzled mind From maze to maze by queries still perplex'd. But this we know, if from the east they came Where science first and revelation beam'd, Long since they've lost all memory, all trace Of this their origin: Tradition tells Of some great forefather beyond the lakes Oswego, Huron, Mechigan, Champlaine Or by the stream of Amazon which rolls Thro' many a clime; while others simply dream That from the Andes or the mountains north, Some hoary fabled ancestor came down To people this their world. LEANDER. How fallen, Oh! How much obscur'd is human nature here! Shut from the light of science and of truth They wander'd blindfold down the steep of time; Dim superstition with her ghastly train Of dæmons, spectres and forboding signs Still urging them to horrid rites and forms Of human sacrifice, to sooth the pow'rs Malignant, and the dark infernal king. Once on this spot perhaps a wigwam stood With all its rude inhabitants, or round Some mighty fire an hundred savage sons Gambol'd by day, and filled the night with cries; In what superior to the brutal race That fled before them thro' the howling wilds, Were all those num'rous tawny tribes which swarm'd From Baffin's bay to Del Fuego south, From California to the Oronoque. Far from the reach of fame they liv'd unknown In listless slumber and inglorious ease; To them fair science never op'd her stores, Nor sacred truth sublim'd the soul to God; No fix'd abode their wand'ring genius knew; No golden harvest crown'd the fertile glebe; No city then adorn'd the rivers bank, Nor rising turret overlook'd the stream. ACASTO. Now view the prospect chang'd; far off at sea The mariner descry's our spacious towns He hails the prospect of the land and views A new, a fair a fertile world arise; Onward from India's isles far east, to us Now fair-ey'd commerce stretches her white sails, Learning exalts her head, the graces smile And peace establish'd after horrid war Improves the splendor of these early times. But come my friends and let us trace the steps By which this recent happy world arose, To this fair eminence of high renown This height of wealth, of liberty and fame. LEANDER. Speak then Eugenio, for I've heard you tell The pleasing hist'ry, and the cause that brought The first advent'rers to these happy shores; The glorious cause that urg'd our fathers first To visit climes unknown and wilder woods Than e'er Tartarian or Norwegian saw, And with fair culture to adorn that soil Which never knew th' industrious swain before. EUGENIO. All this long story to rehearse would tire, Besides the sun toward the west retreats, Nor can the noblest tale retard his speed, Nor loftiest verse; not that which sung the fall Of Troy divine and smooth Scamander's stream. Yet hear a part.--By persecution wrong'd And popish cruelty, our fathers came From Europe's shores to find this blest abode, Secure from tyranny and hateful man. For this they left their country and their friends And plough'd th' Atlantic wave in quest of peace; And found new shores and sylvan settlements Form'd by the care of each advent'rous chief, Who, warm in liberty and freedom's cause, Sought out uncultivated tracts and wilds, And fram'd new plans of cities, governments And spacious provinces: Why should I name Thee Penn, the Solon of our western lands; Sagacious legislator, whom the world Admires tho' dead: an infant colony Nurs'd by thy care, now rises o'er the rest Like that tall Pyramid on Memphis' stand O'er all the lesser piles, they also great. Why should I name those heroes so well known Who peopled all the rest from Canada To Georgia's farthest coasts, West Florida Or Apalachian mountains, yet what streams Of blood were shed! What Indian hosts were slain Before the days of peace were quite restor'd. LEANDER. Yes, while they overturn'd the soil untill'd, And swept the forests from the shaded plain 'Midst dangers, foes and death, fierce Indian tribes With deadly malice arm'd and black design, Oft murder'd half the hapless colonies. Encourag'd too by that inglorious race False Gallia's sons, who once their arms display'd At Quebec, Montreal and farthest coasts Of Labrador and Esquimaux where now The British standard awes the coward host. Here those brave chiefs, who lavish of their blood Fought in Britannia's cause, most nobly fell. What Heart but mourns the untimely fate of Wolf, Who dying conquer'd, or what breast but beats To share a fate like his, and die like him? ACASTO. And he demands our lay who bravely fell By Monangahela and the Ohio's stream; By wiles o'ercome the hapless hero fell, His soul too gen'rous, for that dastard crew Who kill unseen and shun the face of day. Ambush'd in wood, and swamp and thick grown hill, The bellowing tribes brought on the savage war. What could avail O Braddock then the flame, The gen'rous flame which fir'd thy martial soul! What could avail Britannia's warlike troops, Choice spirits of her isle? What could avail America's own sons? The skulking foe, Hid in the forest lay and sought secure, What could the brave Virginians do o'erpower'd By such vast numbers and their leader dead? 'Midst fire and death they bore him from the field, Where in his blood full many a hero lay. 'Twas there O Halkut! thou so nobly fell, Thrice valiant Halkut early son of fame! We still deplore a fate so immature, Fair Albion mourns thy unsuccesful end, And Caledonia sheds a tear for him Who led the bravest of her sons to war. EUGENIO. But why alas commemorate the dead? And pass those glorious heroes by, who yet Breathe the same air and see the light with us? The dead, Acasto are but empty names And he who dy'd to day the same to us As he who dy'd a thousand years ago. A Johnson lives, among the sons of same Well known, conspicuous as the morning star Among the lesser lights: A patriot skill'd In all the glorious arts of peace of war. He for Britannia gains the savage race, Unstable as the sea, wild as the winds, Cruel as death, and treacherous as hell, Whom none but he by kindness yet could win, None by humanity could gain their souls, Or bring from woods and subteranean dens The skulking crew, before a Johnson rose, Pitying their num'rous tribes: ah how unlike The Cortez' and Acosta's, pride of Spain Whom blood and murder only satisfy'd. Behold their doleful regions overflow'd With gore, and blacken'd with ten thousand deaths From Mexico to Patagonia far, Where howling winds sweep round the southern cape, And other suns and other stars arise! ACASTO. Such is the curse Eugenio where the soul Humane is wanting, but we boast no seats Of cruelty like Spain's unfeeling sons. The British Epithet is merciful: And we the sons of Britain learn like them To conquer and to spare; for coward souls Seek their revenge but on a vanquish'd foe. Gold, fatal gold was the assuring bait To Spain's rapacious mind, hence rose the wars From Chili to the Caribbean sea, O'er Terra-Firma and La Plata wide. Peru then sunk in ruins, great before With pompous cities, monuments superb Whose tops reach'd heav'n. But we more happy boast No golden metals in our peaceful land, No flaming diamond, precious emerald, Or blushing saphire, ruby, chrysolite Or jasper red; more noble riches flow From agriculture and th' industrious swain, Who tills the fertile vale or mountain's brow, Content to lead a safe, a humble life 'Midst his own native hills; romantic scenes, Such as the muse of Greece did feign so well, Envying their lovely bow'rs to mortal race. LEANDER. Long has the rural life been justly fam'd; And poets old their pleasing pictures drew Of flow'ry meads, and groves and gliding streams. Hence old Arcadia, woodnymphs, satyrs, fauns, And hence Elysium, fancy'd heav'n below. Fair agriculture, not unworthy kings, Once exercis'd the royal hand, or those Whose virtue rais'd them to the rank of gods. See old Laertes in his shepherd weeds, Far from his pompous throne and court august, Digging the grateful soil, where peaceful blows The west wind murm'ring thro' the aged trees Loaded with apples red, sweet scented peach And each luxurious fruit the world affords, While o'er the fields the harmless oxen draw Th' industrious plough. The Roman heroes too Fabricius and Camillus lov'd a life Of sweet simplicity and rustic joy; And from the busy Forum hast'ning far, 'Midst woods and fields spent the remains of age. How grateful to behold the harvests rise And mighty crops adorn the golden plains? Fair plenty smiles throughout, while lowing herds Stalk o'er the grassy hill or level mead, Or at some winding river slake their thirst. Thus fares the rustic swain; and when the winds Blow with a keener breath, and from the North Pour all their tempests thro' a sunless sky, Ice, sleet and rattling hail, secure he sits In some thatch'd cottage fearless of the storm; While on the hearth a fire still blazing high Chears every mind, and nature fits serene On ev'ry countenance, such the joys And such the fate of those whom heav'n hath bless'd With souls enamour'd of a country life. EUGENIO. Much wealth and pleasure agriculture brings; Far in the woods she raises palaces, Puisant states and crowded realms where late A desart plain or frowning wilderness Deform'd the view; or where with moving tents The scatter'd nations seeking pasturage, Wander'd from clime to clime incultivate; Or where a race more savage yet than these, In search of prey o'er hill and mountain rang'd, Fierce as the tygers and the wolves they flew. Thus lives th' Arabian and the Tartar wild In woody wastes which never felt the plough; But agriculture crowns our happy land, And plants our colonies from north to south, From Cape Breton far as the Mexic bay From th' Eastern shores to Missisippi's stream. Famine to us unknown, rich plenty reigns And pours her blessings with a lavish hand. LEANDER. Nor less from golden commerce flow the streams Of richest plenty on our smiling land. Now fierce Bellona must'ring all her rage, To other climes and other seas withdraws, To rouse the Russian on the desp'rate Turk There to conflict by Danube and the straits Which join the Euxine to th' Egean Sea. Britannia holds the empire of the waves, And welcomes ev'ry bold adventurer To view the wonders of old Ocean's reign. Far to the east our fleets on traffic sail, And to the west thro' boundless seas which not Old Rome nor Tyre nor mightier Carthage knew. Daughter of commerce, from the hoary deep New-York emerging rears her lofty domes, And hails from far her num'rous ships of trade, Like shady forests rising on the waves. From Europe's shores or from the Caribbees, Homeward returning annually they bring The richest produce of the various climes. And Philadelphia mistress of our world, The seat of arts, of science, and of fame Derives her grandeur from the pow'r of trade. Hail happy city where the muses stray, Where deep philosophy convenes her sons And opens all her secrets to their view! Bids them ascend with Newton to the skies, And trace the orbits of the rolling spheres, Survey the glories of the universe, Its suns and moons and ever blazing stars! Hail city blest with liberty's fair beams, And with the rays of mild religion blest! ACASTO. Nor these alone, America, thy sons In the short circle of a hundred years Have rais'd with toil along thy shady shores. On lake and bay and navigable stream, From Cape Breton to Pensacola south, Unnumber'd towns and villages arise, By commerce nurs'd these embrio marts of trade May yet awake the envy and obscure The noblest cities of the eastern world; For commerce is the mighty reservoir From whence all nations draw the streams of gain. 'Tis commerce joins dissever'd worlds in one, Confines old Ocean to more narrow bounds; Outbraves his storms and peoples half his world. EUGENIO. And from the earliest times advent'rous man On foreign traffic stretch'd the nimble sail; Or sent the slow pac'd caravan afar O'er barren wastes, eternal sands where not The blissful haunt of human form is seen Nor tree not ev'n funeral cypress sad Nor bubbling fountain. Thus arriv'd of old Golconda's golden ore, and thus the wealth Of Ophir to the wisest of mankind. LEANDER. Great is the praise of commerce, and the men Deserve our praise who spread from shore to shore The flowing fall; great are their dangers too; Death ever present to the fearless eye And ev'ry billow but a gaping grave; Yet all these mighty feats to science owe Their rise and glory.--Hail fair science! thou Transplanted from the eastern climes dost bloom In these fair regions, Greece and Rome no more Detain the muses on Cithæron's brow, Or old Olympus crown'd with waving woods; Or Hæmus' top where once was heard the harp, Sweet Orpheus' harp that ravish'd hell below And pierc'd the soul of Orcus and his bride, That hush'd to silence by the song divine Thy melancholy waters, and the gales O Hebrus! which o'er thy sad surface blow. No more the maids round Alpheus' waters stray Where he with Arethusas' stream doth mix, Or where swift Tiber disembogues his waves Into th' Italian sea so long unsung. Hither they've wing'd their way, the last, the best Of countries where the arts shall rise and grow Luxuriant, graceful; and ev'n now we boast A Franklin skill'd in deep philosophy, A genius piercing as th' electric fire, Bright as the light'nings flash explain'd so well By him the rival of Britannia's sage. This is a land of ev'ry joyous sound Of liberty and life; sweet liberty! Without whose aid the noblest genius fails, And science irretrievably must die. ACASTO. This is a land where the more noble light Of holy revelation beams, the star Which rose from Judah lights our skies, we feel Its influence as once did Palestine And Gentile lands, where now the ruthless Turk Wrapt up in darkness sleeps dull life away. Here many holy messengers of peace As burning lamps have given light to men. To thee, O Whitefield! favourite of Heav'n, The muse would pay the tribute of a tear. Laid in the dust thy eloquence no more Shall charm the list'ning soul, no more Thy bold imagination paint the scenes Of woe and horror in the shades below; Or glory radiant in the fields above; No more thy charity relieve the poor; Let Georgia mourn, let all her orphans weep. LEANDER. Yet tho' we wish'd him longer from the skies, And wept to see the ev'ning of his days, He long'd himself to reach his final hope, The crown of glory for the just prepar'd. From life's high verge he hail'd th' eternal shore And, freed at last from his confinement, rose An infant seraph to the worlds on high. EUGENIO. For him we sound the melancholy lyre, The lyre responsive to each distant sigh; No grief like that which mourns departing souls Of holy, just and venerable men, Whom pitying Heav'n sends from their native skies To light our way and bring us nearer God. But come Leander since we know the past And present glory of this empire wide, What hinders to pervade with searching eye The mystic scenes of dark futurity? Say shall we ask what empires yet must rise What kingdoms pow'rs and states where now are seen But dreary wastes and awful solitude, Where melancholy sits with eye forlorn And hopes the day when Britain's sons shall spread Dominion to the north and south and west Far from th' Atlantic to Pacific shores? A glorious theme, but how shall mortals dare To pierce the mysteries of future days, And scenes unravel only known to fate. ACASTO. This might we do if warm'd by that bright coal Snatch'd from the altar of seraphic fire, Which touch'd Isaiah's lips, or if the spirit Of Jeremy and Amos, prophets old, Should fire the breast; but yet I call the muse And what we can will do. I see, I see A thousand kingdoms rais'd, cities and men Num'rous as sand upon the ocean shore; Th' Ohio then shall glide by many a town Of note: and where the Missisippi stream By forests shaded now runs weeping on Nations shall grow and states not less in fame Than Greece and Rome of old: we too shall boast Our Alexanders, Pompeys, heroes, kings That in the womb of time yet dormant lye Waiting the joyful hour for life and light. O snatch us hence, ye muses! to those days When, through the veil of dark antiquity, Our sons shall hear of us as things remote, That blossom'd in the morn of days, alas! How could I weep that we were born so soon, In the beginning of more happy times! But yet perhaps our fame shall last unhurt. The sons of science nobly scorn to die Immortal virtue this denies, the muse Forbids the men to slumber in the grave Who well deserve the praise that virtue gives. EUGENIO. 'Tis true no human eye can penetrate The veil obscure, and in fair light disclos'd Behold the scenes of dark futurity; Yet if we reason from the course of things, And downward trace the vestiges of time, The mind prophetic grows and pierces far Thro' ages yet unborn. We saw the states And mighty empires of the East arise In swift succession from the Assyrian To Macedon and Rome; to Britain thence Dominion drove her car, she stretch'd her reign Oer many isles, wide seas, and peopled lands. Now in the West a continent appears; A newer world now opens to her view; She hastens onward to th' Americ shores And bids a scene of recent wonders rise. New states new empires and a line of kings, High rais'd in glory, cities, palaces Fair domes on each long bay, sea, shore or stream Circling the hills now rear their lofty heads. Far in the Arctic skies a Petersburgh, A Bergen, or Archangel lifts its spires Glitt'ring with Ice, far in the West appears A new Palmyra or an Ecbatan, And sees the slow pac'd caravan return O'er many a realm from the Pacific shore, Where fleets shall then convey rich Persia's silks, Arabia's perfumes, and spices rare Of Philippine, Coelebe and Marian isles, Or from the Acapulco coast our India then, Laden with pearl and burning gems and gold. Far in the South I see a Babylon, As once by Tigris or Euphrates stream, With blazing watch towr's and observatories Rising to heav'n; from thence astronomers With optic glass take nobler views of God In golden suns and shining worlds display'd Than the poor Chaldean with the naked eye. A Niniveh where Oronoque descends With waves discolour'd from the Andes high, Winding himself around a hundred isles Where golden buildings glitter o'er his tide. To mighty nations shall the people grow Which cultivate the banks of many a flood, In chrystal currents poured from the hills Apalachia nam'd, to lave the sands Of Carolina, Georgia, and the plains Stretch'd out from thence far to the burning Line, St Johns or Clarendon or Albemarle. And thou Patowmack navigable stream, Rolling thy waters thro' Virginia's groves, Shall vie with Thames, the Tiber or the Rhine, For on thy banks I see an hundred towns And the tall vessels wafted down thy tide. Hoarse Niagara's stream now roaring on Thro' woods and rocks and broken mountains torn, In days remote far from their antient beds, By some great monarch taught a better course, Or cleared of cataracts shall flow beneath Unnumbr'd boats and merchandize and men; And from the coasts of piny Labradore, A thousand navies crowd before the gale, And spread their commerce to remotest lands, Or bear their thunder round the conquered world. LEANDER. And here fair freedom shall forever reign. I see a train, a glorious train appear, Of Patriots plac'd in equal fame with those Who nobly fell for Athens or for Rome. The sons of Boston resolute and brave The firm supporters of our injur'd rights, Shall lose their splendours in the brighter beams Of patriots fam'd and heroes yet unborn. ACASTO. 'Tis but the morning of the world with us And Science yet but sheds her orient rays. I see the age the happy age roll on Bright with the splendours of her mid-day beams, I see a Homer and a Milton rise In all the pomp and majesty of song, Which gives immortal vigour to the deeds Atchiev'd by Heroes in the fields of fame. A second Pope, like that Arabian bird Of which no age can boast but one, may yet Awake the muse by Schuylkill's silent stream, And bid new forests bloom along her tide. And Susquehanna's rocky stream unsung, In bright meanders winding round the hills, Where first the mountain nymph sweet echo heard The uncouth musick of my rural lay, Shall yet remurmur to the magic sound Of song heroic, when in future days Some noble Hambden rises into fame. LEANDER. Or Roanoke's and James's limpid waves The sound of musick murmurs in the gale; Another Denham celebrates their flow, In gliding numbers and harmonious lays. EUGENIO. Now in the bow'rs of Tuscororah hills, As once on Pindus all the muses stray, New Theban bards high soaring reach the skies And swim along thro' azure deeps of air. LEANDER. From Alleghany in thick groves imbrown'd, Sweet music breathing thro' the shades of night Steals on my ear, they sing the origin Of those fair lights which gild the firmament; From whence the gale that murmurs in the pines; Why flows the stream down from the mountains brow And rolls the ocean lower than the land. They sing the final destiny of things, The great result of all our labours here, The last day's glory, and the world renew'd. Such are their themes for in these happier days The bard enraptur'd scorns ignoble strains, Fair science smiling and full truth revealed, The world at peace, and all her tumults o'er, The blissful prelude to Emanuel's reign. EUGENIO. And when a train of rolling years are past, (So sang the exil'd seer in Patmos isle,) A new Jerusalem sent down from heav'n Shall grace our happy earth, perhaps this land, Whose virgin bosom shall then receive, tho' late, Myriads of saints with their almighty king, To live and reign on earth a thousand years Thence call'd Millennium. Paradise a new Shall flourish, by no second Adam lost. No dang'rous tree or deathful fruit shall grow, No tempting serpent to allure the soul, From native innocence; a Canaan here Another Canaan shall excel the old And from fairer Pisgah's top be seen, No thistle here or briar or thorn shall spring Earth's curse before: the lion and the lamb In mutual friendship link'd shall browse the shrub, And tim'rous deer with rabid tygers stray O'er mead or lofty hill or grassy plain. Another Jordan's stream shall glide along And Siloah's brook in circling eddies flow, Groves shall adorn their verdant banks, on which The happy people free from second death Shall find secure repose; no fierce disease No fevers, slow consumption, direful plague Death's ancient ministers, again renew Perpetual war with man: Fair fruits shall bloom Fair to the eye, sweet to the taste, if such Divine inhabitants could need the taste Of elemental food, amid the joys Fit for a heav'nly nature. Music's charms Shall swell the lofty soul and harmony Triumphant reign; thro' ev'ry grove shall sound The cymbal and the lyre, joys too divine For fallen man to know. Such days the world And such America thou first shall have When ages yet to come have run their round And future years of bliss alone remain. ACASTO. This is thy praise America thy pow'r Thou best of climes by science visited By freedom blest and richly stor'd with all The luxuries of life. Hail happy land The seat of empire the abode of kings, The final stage where time shall introduce Renowned characters, and glorious works Of high invention and of wond'rous art, Which not the ravages of time shall wake Till he himself has run his long career; Till all those glorious orbs of light on high The rolling wonders that surround the ball, Drop from their spheres extinguish'd and consum'd; When final ruin with her fiery car Rides o'er creation, and all nature's works Are lost in chaos and the womb of night.","Hugh Henry Brackenridge"
84,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,84,"2018-02-27 03:38:18","I Too, Sing America (Inspired By Langsto.. poem","I, too, sing AmericaThe melody is quiet but still passes my lipsI am the elusive ingenueThe restless whisper of a wood nymphYou can hardly tell I'm thereWaiting quietly in my shellFor the right moment to emerge.","Vaida Marea"
85,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,85,"2018-02-27 03:38:20","America poem","NOR force nor fraud shall sunder us! O ye Who north or south, on east or western land, Native to noble sounds, say truth for truth, Freedom for freedom, love for love, and God For God; O ye who in eternal youth Speak with a living and creative flood This universal English, and do stand Its breathing book; live worthy of that grand Heroic utterance—parted, yet a whole, Far yet unsever’d,—children brave and free Of the great Mother-tongue, and ye shall be Lords of an empire wide as Shakespeare’s soul, Sublime as Milton’s immemorial theme, And rich as Chaucer’s speech, and fair as Spenser’s dream.","Sydney Thompson Dobell"
86,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,86,"2018-02-27 03:38:26","Part 3 Of Trout Fishing In America poem","SEA, SEA RIDERThe man who owned the bookstore was not magic. He was not athree-legged crow on the dandelion side of the mountain. He was, of course, a Jew, a retired merchant seamanwho had been torpedoed in the North Atlantic and floatedthere day after day until death did not want him. He had ayoung wife, a heart attack, a Volkswagen and a home inMarin County. He liked the works of George Orwell, RichardAldington and Edmund Wilson. He learned about life at sixteen, first from Dostoevskyand then from the whores of New Orleans. The bookstore was a parking lot for used graveyards.Thousands of graveyards were parked in rows like cars.Most of the kooks were out of print, and no one wanted toread them any more and the people who had read the bookshad died or forgotten about them, but through the organicprocess of music the books had become virgins again. Theywore their ancient copyrights like new maidenheads. I went to the bookstore in the afternoons after I got offwork, during that terrible year of 1959. He had a kitchen in the back of the store and he brewedcups of thick Turkish coffee in a copper pan. I drank coffeeand read old books and waited for the year to end. He had asmall room above the kitchen. It looked down on the bookstore and had Chinese screensin front of it. The room contained a couch, a glass cabinetwith Chinese things in it and a table and three chairs. Therewas a tiny bathroom fastened like a watch fob to the room. I was sitting on a stool in the bookstore one afternoonreading a book that was in the shape of a chalice. The bookhad clear pages like gin, and the first page in the book read: Billy the Kid born November 23, 1859 in New York City The owner of the bookstore came up to me, and put hisarm on my shoulder and said, ""Would you like to get laid?""His voice was very kind. ""No, "" I said. ""You're wrong, "" he said, and then without saying anythingelse, he went out in front of the bookstore, and stopped a pairof total strangers, a man and a woman. He talked to them fora few moments. I couldn't hear what he was saying. He pointedat me in the bookstore. The woman nodded her head andthen the man nodded his head. They came into the bookstore. I was embarrassed. I could not leave the bookstore becausethey were entering by the only door, so I decided to goupstairs and go to the toilet. I got up abruptly and walkedto the back of the bookstore and went upstairs to the bathroom,and they followed after me. I could hear them on the stairs. I waited for a long time in the bathroom and they waitedan equally long time in the other room. They never spoke.When I came out of the bathroom, the woman was lying nakedon the couch, and the man was sitting in a chair with hishat on his lap. ""Don't worry about him, "" the girl said. ""These thingsmake no difference to him. He's rich. He has 3, 859 RollsRoyces."" The girl was very pretty and her body was like aclear mountain river of skin and muscle flowing over rocksof bone and hidden nerves. ""Come to me, "" she said. ""And come inside me for we areAquarius and I love you."" I looked at the man sitting in the chair. He was not smilingand he did not look sad. I took off my shoes and all my clothes. The man did not say a word. The girl's body moved ever so slightly from side to side. There was nothing else I could do for my body was likebirds sitting on a telephone wire strung out down the world,clouds tossing the wires carefully. I laid the girl. It was like the eternal 59th second when it becomes a minuteand then looks kind of sheepish. ""Good, "" the girl said, and kissed me on the face. The man sat there without speaking or moving or sendingout any emotion into the room. I guess he was rich and owned3, 859 Rolls Royces. Afterwards the girl got dressed and she and the man left.They walked down the stairs and on their way out, I heardhim say his first words. ""Would you like to go to Emie's for dinner?"" ""I don't know, "" the girl said. ""It's a little early to thinkabout dinner. "" Then I heard the door close and they were gone. I gotdressed and went downstairs. The flesh about my body feltsoft and relaxed like an experiment in functional backgroundmusic. The owner of the bookstore was sitting at his desk behindthe counter. ""I'11 tell you what happened up there, "" he said,in a beautiful anti-three-legged-crow voice, in an anti-dandelionside of the mountain voice. ""What?""I said. ""You fought in the Spanish Civil War. You were a youngCommunist from Cleveland, Ohio. She was a painter. A NewYork Jew who was sightseeing in the Spanish Civil War as ifit were the Mardi Gras in New Orleans being acted out byGreek statues. ""She was drawing a picture of a dead anarchist when youmet her. She asked you to stand beside the anarchist and actas if you had killed him. You slapped her across the faceand said something that would be embarrassing for me torepeat.You both fell very much in love. ""Once while you were at the front she read Anatomy ofMelancholy and did 349 drawings of a lemon. ""Your love for each other was mostly spiritual.Neitherone of you performed like millionaires in bed. ""When Barcelona fell, you and she flew to England, andthen took a ship back to New York. Your love for each otherremained in Spain. It was only a war love. You loved onlyyourselves, loving each other in Spain during the war. Onthe Atlantic you were different toward each other and becameevery day more and more like people lost from each other. ""Every wave on the Atlantic was like a dead seagull draggingits driftwood artillery from horizon to horizon. ""When the ship bumped up against America, you departedwithout saying anything and never saw each other again. Thelast I heard of you, you were still living in Philadelphia. """"That's what you think happened up there?"" I said.""Partly, "" he said. ""Yes, that's part of it. "" He took out his pipe and filled it with tobacco and lit it. ""Do you want me to tell you what else happened up there?""he said. ""Go ahead."" ""You crossed the border into Mexico, "" he said. ""Yourode your horse into a small town. The people knew whoyou were and they were afraid of you. They knew you hadkilled many men with that gun you wore at your side. Thetown itself was so small that it didn't have a priest. ""When the rurales saw you, they left the town. Tough asthey were, they did not want to have anything to do with you.The rurales left. You became the most powerful man in town. You were seduced by a thirteen-year-old girl, and youand she lived together in an adobe hut, and practically allyou did was make love. ""She was slender and had long dark hair. You made lovestanding, sitting, lying on the dirt floor with pigs and chickensaround you. The walls, the floor and even the roof of thehut were coated with your sperm and her come. ""You slept on the floor at night and used your sperm fora pillow and her come for a blanket. ""The people in the town were so afraid of you that theycould do nothing. ""After a while she started going around town without anyclothes on, and the people of the town said that it was not agood thing, and when you started going around without anyclothes, and when both of you began making love on the backof your horse in the middle of the zocalo, the people of thetown became so afraid that they abandoned the town. It'sbeen abandoned ever since. ""People won't live there. ""Neither of you lived to be twenty-one. It was not neces-sary. ""See, I do know what happened upstairs, "" he said. Hesmiled at me kindly. His eyes were like the shoelaces of aharpsichord. I thought about what happened upstairs. ""You know what I say is the truth, "" he said. ""For yousaw it with your own eyes and traveled it with your own body.Finish the book you were reading before you were interrupted.I'm glad you got laid. "" Once resumed the pages of the book began to speed upand turn faster and faster until they were spinning like wheelsin the sea.","Richard Brautigan"
87,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,87,"2018-02-27 03:38:28","America Politico poem","DEALS, DEALS, DEALS.Small room, with twelve bathrooms.Envelopes fill the baskets.Mirrors with lipstick kisses.In the small room - elbows bump.In the office.OCCUPIED - next bathroom.Outside neighbors look.Cesspool trucks arrive.Dirt cover-up off lid.Man preys lid open.Next years news escapes.CESSPOOL CLEAN and POLITICS AGAIN.","JOE POEWHIT"
88,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,88,"2018-02-27 03:38:33","America To Russia poem","AUGUST 5, 1866THOUGH watery deserts hold apartThe worlds of East and West,Still beats the selfsame human heartIn each proud Nation's breast.Our floating turret tempts the mainAnd dares the howling blastTo clasp more close the golden chainThat long has bound them fast.In vain the gales of ocean sweep,In vain the billows roarThat chafe the wild and stormy steepOf storied Elsinore.She comes! She comes! her banners dipIn Neva's flashing tide,With greetings on her cannon's lip,The storm-god's iron bride!Peace garlands with the olive-boughHer thunder-bearing tower,And plants before her cleaving prowThe sea-foam's milk-white flower.No prairies heaped their garnered storeTo fill her sunless hold,Not rich Nevada's gleaming oreIts hidden caves infold,But lightly as the sea-bird swingsShe floats the depths above,A breath of flame to lend her wings,Her freight a people's love!When darkness hid the starry skiesIn war's long winter night,One ray still cheered our straining eyes,The far-off Northern light.And now the friendly rays returnFrom lights that glow afar,Those clustered lamps of Heaven that burnAround the Western Star.A nation's love in tears and smilesWe bear across the sea,O Neva of the banded isles,We moor our hearts in thee!","Oliver Wendell Holmes"
89,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,89,"2018-02-27 03:38:36","America Is An Idea poem","In the Rotationsof the Universeperiodically, the Destiny Dial clicksto that spacecalled Community.Then all the worldcelebratesand weeps-tearswhich sparkleand reflecteach hope, each dream; when we all plantour Heart Flower Seedsin the garden hoping for the Futurewhich heals.Not Miraclesbut Peace, not Riches; but Shared Prosperity; not no fearbut lessened anxiety.America is an Ideal.Every once in a whileShe produces that handwhich re-lights the torchof Lady Libertynear extinguished by extremity; a new hand which reaches outto millions of other hands which reach backaffirming the simpleretort: Yes We Can.Sing nowas others have sungfor phase, line and meterbring back the music.only America can sing, of an era which maybe, just maybewill crack that shut door, where Hope's light willshine throughupon child faceswhere the children glimpsenew possibilities; where new shiningsilluminate each child-facebless eachand their progeny; all bathed now in that precious prospectwhere there is respect for lives human and non-human. Where peace is not extinguishedby flesh-mauling war machines.American is an ideathat won't die; an experimentamid swarms of tyrannies; where sometimesthe Universal Clock Pointer swings roundto that wondrous spacewe callLiberty; and Peace; All thissignaled potentiallyby a goat herder's sonwho had that same dream.Democracy is that systembest preservedbecause no one knowswhere Potentialemanates from; or lessons that can be learnedfrom a goats herders sonand that Kansas wifewho had a different dream.","Lonnie Hicks"
90,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,90,"2018-02-27 03:38:40","Part 2 Of Trout Fishing In America poem","ANOTHER METHOD OF MAKING WALNUT CATSUPAnd this is a very small cookbook for Trout Fishing in Americaas if Trout Fishing in America were a rich gourmet andTrout Fishing in America had Maria Callas for a girlfriendand they ate together on a marble table with beautiful candles.Compote of ApplesTake a dozen of golden pippins, pare themnicely and take the core out with a smallpenknife; put them into some water, andlet them be well scalded; then take a littleof the water with some sugar, and a fewapples which may be sliced into it, andlet the whole boil till it comes to a syrup;then pour it over your pippins, and garnishthem with dried cherries and lemon-peelcut fine. You must take care that yourpippins are not split.And Maria Callas sang to Trout Fishing in America asthey ate their apples together.A Standing Crust for Great PiesTake a peck of flour and six pounds of butterboiled in a gallon of water: skim it off intothe flour, and as little of the liquor as youcan. Work it up well into a paste, and thenpull it into pieces till it is cold. Then makeit up into what form you please.And Trout Fishing in America smiled at Maria Callas asthey ate their pie crust together.A Spoonful PuddingTake a spoonful of flour, a spoonful ofcream or milk, an egg, a little nutmeg,ginger, and salt. Mix all together, andboil it in a little wooden dish half an hour.If you think proper you may add a fewcurrants . And Trout Fishing in America said, ""The moon's comingout."" And Maria Callas said, ""Yes, it is."" Another Method of Making Walnut Catsup Take green walnuts before the shell is formed, and grind them in a crab-mill, or pound them in a marble mortar. Squeeze out the juice through a coarse cloth, and put to every gallon of juice a pound of anchovies, and the same quantity of bay-salt, four ounces of Jamaica pepper, two of long and two of black pepper; of mace, cloves, and ginger, each an ounce, and a stick of horseradish. Boil all together till reduced to half the quantity, and then put it into a pot. When it is cold, bottle it close, and in three months it will be fit for use. And Trout Fishing in America and Maria Callas pouredwalnut catsup on their hamburgers.PROLOGUE TO GRIDER CREEKMooresville, Indiana, is the town that John Dillinger camefrom, and the town has a John Dillinger Museum. You cango in and look around. Some towns are known as the peach capital of America orthe cherry capital or the oyster capital, and there's alwaysa festival and the photograph of a pretty girl in a bathing suit. Mooresville, Indiana, is the John Dillinger capital of America. Recently a man moved there with his wife, and he discoveredhundreds of rats in his basement. They were huge, slowmovingchild-eyed rats. When his wife had to visit some of her relatives for a fewdays, the man went out and bought a .38 revolver and a lotof ammunition. Then he went down to the basement wherethe rats were, and he started shooting them. It didn't botherthe rats at all. They acted as if it were a movie and startedeating their dead companions for popcorn. The man walked over to a rat that was busy eating a friendand placed the pistol against the rat's head. The rat did notmove and continued eating away. When the hammer clickedback, the rat paused between bites and looked out of the cornerof its eye. First at the pistol and then at the man. It was a kindof friendly look as if to say, ""When my mother was young shesang like Deanna Durbin. "" The man pulled the trigger. He had no sense of humor. There's always a single feature, a double feature and aneternal feature playing at the Great Theater in Mooresville,Indiana: the John Dillinger capital of America.","Richard Brautigan"
91,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,91,"2018-02-27 03:38:45","Part 10 Of Trout Fishing In America poem","WITNESS FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA PEACEIn San Francisco around Easter time last year, they had atrout fishing in America peace parade. They had thousandsof red stickers printed and they pasted them on their smallforeign cars, and on means of national communication liketelephone poles. The stickers had WITNESS FOR TROUT FISHING IN AM-ERICA PEACE printed on them. Then this group of college- and high-school-trained Com-munists, along with some Communist clergymen and theirMarxist-taught children, marched to San Francisco fromSunnyvale, a Communist nerve center about forty miles away. It took them four days to walk to San Francisco. Theystopped overnight at various towns along the way, and slepton the lawns of fellow travelers. They carried with them Communist trout fishing in Ameri-ca peace propaganda posters:""DON'T DROP AN H-BOMB ON THE OLD FISHING HOLE I"" ""ISAAC WALTON WOULD'VE HATED THE BOMB!"" ""ROYAL COACHMAN, SI! ICBM, NO!"" They carried with them many other trout fishing in Amer-ica peace inducements, all following the Communist worldconquest line: the Gandhian nonviolence Trojan horse. When these young, hard-core brainwashed members ofthe Communist conspiracy reached the ""Panhandle, "" theemigre Oklahoma Communist sector of San Francisco, thou-sands of other Communists were waiting for them. Thesewere Communists who couldn't walk very far. They barelyhad enough strength to make it downtown. Thousands of Communists, protected by the police, marcheddown to Union Square, located in the very heart of San Fran-cisco. The Communist City Hall riots in 1960 had presentedevidence of it, the police let hundreds of Communists escape,but the trout fishing in America peace parade was the finalindictment: police protection. Thousands of Communists marched right into the heart ofSan Francisco, and Communist speakers incited them forhours and the young people wanted to blow up Colt Tower, butthe Communist clergy told them to put away their plasticbombs. ""Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men shoulddo to you, do ye even so to them . . . There will be no needfor explosives, "" they said. America needs no other proof. The Red shadow of theGandhian nonviolence Trojan horse has fallen across Ameri-ca, and San Francisco is its stable. Obsolete is the mad rapist's legendary piece of candy. Atthis very moment, Communist agents are handing out Witnessfor trout fishing in America peace tracts to innocent childrenriding the cable cars.","Richard Brautigan"
92,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,92,"2018-02-27 03:38:49","A Soldier To America. poem","I HEAR CRY'S FOR HELPAND BOMBS EXPLODE, BUT IM SO FAR AWAY FROM HOME, AMERICA I STAND HERE ALONE, FIGHTING FOR PEACEBUT SO FAR AWAY FROM HOME, AMERICA I STAND WITH A GUN IN MY HAND, FIGHTING FOR FREEDOMWITH OUT A PLAN, AMERICA DO YOU REALLY NEED ANOTHER WAR, IM JUST A SOLDIER THAT COULDNT TAKE NO MORE...7/28/09","JOSE MURGUIA"
93,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,93,"2018-02-27 03:38:54","Part 9 Of Trout Fishing In America poem","SANDBOX MINUS JOHN DILLINGER EQUALS WHAT?Often I return to the cover of Trout Fishing in America. Itook the baby and went down there this morning. They werewatering the cover with big revolving sprinklers. I saw somebread lying on the grass. It had been put there to feed thepigeons. The old Italians are always doing things like that. Thebread had been turned to paste by the water and was squashedflat against the grass. Those dopey pigeons were waiting untilthe water and grass had chewed up the bread for them, sothey wouldn't have to do it themselves. I let the baby play in the sandbox and I sat down on a benchand looked around. There was a beatnik sitting at the otherend -of the bench. He had his sleeping bag beside him and hewas eating apple turnovers. He had a huge sack of apple turn-overs and he was gobbling them down like a turkey. It wasprobably a more valid protest than picketing missile bases. The baby played in the sandbox. She had on a red dressand the Catholic church was towering up behind her red dress.There was a brick john between her dress and the church. Itwas there by no accident. Ladies to the left and gents to theright. A red dress, I thought. Wasn't the woman who set JohnDillinger up for the FBI wearing a red dress? They calledher ""The Woman in Red. "" It seemed to me that was right. It was a red dress, but sofar, John Dillinger was nowhere in sight. my daughterplayed alone in the sandbox. Sandbox minus John Dillinger equals what? The beatnik went and got a drink of water from the fountainthat was crucified on the wall of the brick john, more towardthe gents than the ladies. He had to wash all those apple turn-overs down his throat. There were three sprinklers going in the park. There wasone in front of the Benjamin Franklin statue and one to theside of him and one just behind him. They were all turning incircles. I saw Benjamin Franklin standing there patientlythrough the water. The sprinkler to the side of Benjamin Franklin hit the left-hand tree. It sprayed hard against the trunk and knocked someleaves down from the tree, and then it hit the center tree,sprayed hard against the trunk and more leaves fell. Then itsprayed against Benjamin Franklin, the water shot out to thesides of the stone and a mist drifted down off the water. Ben-jamin Franklin got his feet wet. The sun was shining down hard on me. The sun was brightand hot. After a while the sun made me think of my own dis-comfort. The only shade fell on the beatnik. The shade came down off the Lillie Hitchcock Colt statueof some metal fireman saving a metal broad from a mentalfire. The beatnik now lay on the bench and the shade was twofeet longer than he was. A friend of mine has written a poem about that statue. God-damn, I wish he would write another poem about that statue,SO it would give me some shade two feet longer than my body. I was right about ""The Woman in Red, "" because ten min-utes later they blasted John Dillinger down in the sandbox.The sound of the machine-gun fire startled the pigeons andthey hurried on into the church. My daughter was seen leaving in a huge black car shortlyafter that. She couldn't talk yet, but that didn't make any dif-ference. The red dress did it all. John Dillinger's body lay half in and half out of the sand-box, more toward the ladies than the gents. He was leakingblood like those capsules we used to use with oleomargarine,in those good old days when oleo was white like lard. The huge black car pulled out and went up the street, bat-light shining off the top. It stopped in front of the ice-creamparlor at Filbert and Stockton. An agent got out and went in and bought two hundreddouble-decker ice-cream cones. He needed a wheelbarrowto get them back to the car.","Richard Brautigan"
94,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,94,"2018-02-27 03:38:59","Part 6 Of Trout Fishing In America poem","THE HUNCHBACK TROUTThe creek was made narrow by little green trees that grewtoo close together. The creek was like 12, 845 telephonebooths in a row with high Victorian ceilings and all the doorstaken off and all the backs of the booths knocked out. Sometimes when I went fishing in there, I felt just like atelephone repairman, even though I did not look like one. Iwas only a kid covered with fishing tackle, but in somestrange way by going in there and catching a few trout, Ikept the telephones in service. I was an asset to society. It was pleasant work, but at times it made me uneasy.It could grow dark in there instantly when there were someclouds in the sky and they worked their way onto the sun.Then you almost needed candles to fish by, and foxfire inyour reflexes. Once I was in there when it started raining. It was darkand hot and steamy. I was of course on overtime. I had thatgoing in my favor. I caught seven trout in fifteen minutes. The trout in those telephone booths were good fellows.There were a lot of young cutthroat trout six to nine incheslong, perfect pan size for local calls. Sometimes therewere a few fellows, eleven inches or so--for the long dis-tance calls. I've always liked cutthroat trout. They put up a good fight,running against the bottom and then broad jumping. Undertheir throats they fly the orange banner of Jack the Ripper. Also in the creek were a few stubborn rainbow trout, sel-dom heard from, but there all the same, like certified pub-lic accountants. I'd catch one every once in a while. Theywere fat and chunky, almost as wide as they were long. I'veheard those trout called ""squire"" trout. It used to take me about an hour to hitchhike to that creek.There was a river nearby. The river wasn't much. The creekwas where I punched in. Leaving my card above the clockI'd punch out again when it was time to go home. I remember the afternoon I caught the hunchback trout. A farmer gave me a ride in a truck. He picked me up ata traffic signal beside a bean field and he never said a wordto me. His stopping and picking me up and driving me down theroad was as automatic a thing to him as closing the barndoor, nothing need be said about it, but still I was in motiontraveling thirty-five miles an hour down the road, watchinghouses and groves of trees go by, watching chickens andmailboxes enter and pass through my vision. Then I did not see any houses for a while. ""This is whereI get out, "" I said. The farmer nodded his head. The truck stopped. ""Thanks a lot, "" I said. The farmer did not ruin his audition for the MetropolitanOpera by making a sound. He just nodded his head again.The truck started up. He was the original silent old farmer. A little while later I was punching in at the creek. I putmy card above the clock and went into that long tunnel oftelephone booths. I waded about seventy-three telephone booths in. I caughttwo trout in a little hole that was like a wagon wheel. It wasone of my favorite holes, and always good for a trout or two. I always like to think of that hole as a kind of pencilsharpener. I put my reflexes in and they came back out witha good point on them. Over a period of a couple of years, Imust have caught fifty trout in that hole, though it was onlyas big as a wagon wheel. I was fishing with salmon eggs and using a size 14 singleegg hook on a pound and a quarter test tippet. The two troutlay in my creel covered entirely by green ferns ferns madegentle and fragile by the damp walls of telephone booths. The next good place was forty-five telephone booths in.The place was at the end of a run of gravel, brown and slip-pery with algae. The run of gravel dropped off and disap-peared at a little shelf where there were some white rocks. One of the rocks was kind of strange. It was a flat whiterock. Off by itself from the other rocks, it reminded meof a white cat I had seen in my childhood. The cat had fallen or been thrown off a high wooden side-walk that went along the side of a hill in Tacoma, Washing-ton. The cat was lying in a parking lot below. The fall had not appreciably helped the thickness of thecat, and then a few people had parked their cars on the cat.Of course, that was a long time ago and the cars looked dif-ferent from the way they look now. You hardly see those cars any more. They are the oldcars. They have to get off the highway because they can'tkeep up. That flat white rock off by itself from the other rocksreminded me of that dead cat come to lie there in the creek,among 12, 845 telephone booths. I threw out a salmon egg and let it drift down over thatrock and WHAM! a good hit! and I had the fish on and it ranhard downstream, cutting at an angle and staying deep andreally coming on hard, solid and uncompromising, and thenthe fish jumped and for a second I thought it was a frog. I'dnever seen a fish like that before. God-damn ! What the hell! The fish ran deep again and I could feel its life energyscreaming back up the line to my hand. The line felt likesound. It was like an ambulance siren coming straight atme, red light flashing, and then going away again and thentaking to the air and becoming an air-raid siren. The fish jumped a few more times and it still looked likea frog, but it didn't have any legs. Then the fish grew tiredand sloppy, and I swung and splashed it up the surface ofthe creek and into my net. The fish was a twelve-inch rainbow trout with a huge humpon its back. A hunchback trout. The first I'd ever seen. Thehump was probably due to an injury that occurred when thetrout was young. Maybe a horse stepped on it or a tree fellover in a storm or its mother spawned where they werebuilding a bridge. There was a fine thing about that trout. I only wish I couldhave made a death mask of him. Not of his body though, butof his energy. I don't know if anyone would have understoodhis body. I put it in my creel. Later in the afternoon when the telephone booths began togrow dark at the edges, I punched out of the creek and wenthome. I had that hunchback trout for dinner. Wrapped incornmeal and fried in butter, its hump tasted sweet as thekisses of Esmeralda.","Richard Brautigan"
95,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,95,"2018-02-27 03:39:01","Song Of America poem","And now, when poets are singing Their songs of olden days, And now, when the land is ringing With sweet Centennial lays, My muse goes wandering backward, To the groundwork of all these, To the time when our Pilgrim Fathers Came over the winter seas. The sons of a mighty kingdom, Of a cultured folk were they; Born amidst pomp and splendor, Bred in it day by day. Children of bloom and beauty, Reared under skies serene, Where the daisy and hawthorne blossomed, And the ivy was always green. And yet, for the sake of freedom, For a free religious faith, They turned from home and people, And stood face to face with death. They turned from a tyrant ruler, And stood on the new world's shore, With a waste of waters behind them, And a waste of land before. O, men of a great Republic; Of a land of untold worth; Of a nation that has no equal Upon God's round green earth: I hear you sighing and crying Of the hard, close times at hand; What think you of those old heroes, On the rock 'twixt sea and land? The bells of a million churches Go ringing out to-night, And the glitter of palace windows Fills all the land with light; And there is the home and college, And here is the feast and ball, And the angels of peace and freedom Are hovering over all. They had no church, no college, No banks, no mining stock; They had but the waste before them, The sea, and Plymouth Rock. But there in the night and tempest, With gloom on every hand, They laid the first foundation Of a nation great and grand. There were no weak repinings, No shrinking from what might be, But with their brows to the tempest, And with their backs to the sea, They planned out a noble future, And planted the corner stone Of the grandest, greatest republic, The world has ever known. O women in homes of splendor, O lily-buds frail and fair, With fortunes upon your fingers, And milk-white pearls in your hair: I hear you longing and sighing For some new, fresh delight; But what of those Pilgrim mothers On that December night? I hear you talking of hardships, I hear you moaning of loss; Each has her fancied sorrow, Each bears her self-made cross. But they, they had only their husbands, The rain, the rock, and the sea, Yet, they looked up to God and blessed Him, And were glad because they were free. O grand old Pilgrim heroes, O souls that were tried and true, With all of our proud possessions We are humbled at thought of you: Men of such might and muscle, Women so brave and strong, Whose faith was fixed as the mountain, Through a night so dark and long. We know of your grim, grave errors, As husbands and as wives; Of the rigid bleak ideas That starved your daily lives; Of pent-up, curbed emotions, Of feelings crushed, suppressed, That God with the heart created In every human breast; We know of that little remnant Of British tyranny, When you hunted Quakers and witches, And swumg them from a tree; Yet back to a holy motive, To live in the fear of God, To a purpose, high, exalted, To walk where martyrs trod, We can trace your gravest errors; Your aim was fixed and sure, And e'en if your acts were fanatic, We know your hearts were pure. You lived so near to heaven, You over-reached your trust, And deemed yourselves creators, Forgetting you were but dust. But we with our broader visions, With our wider realm of thought, I often think would be better If we lived as our fathers taught. Their lives seemed bleak and rigid, Narrow, and void of bloom; Our minds have too much freedom, And conscience too much room. They over-reached in duty, They starved their hearts for the right; We live too much in the senses, We bask too long in the light. They proved by their clinging to Him The image of God in man; And we, by our love of license, Strengthen a Darwin's plan. But bigotry reached its limit, And license must have its sway, And both shall result in profit To those of a latter day. With the fetters of slavery broken, And freedom's flag unfurled, Our nation strides onward and upward, And stands the peer of the world. Spires and domes and steeples, Glitter from shore to shore; The waters are white with commerce, The earth is studded with ore; Peace is sitting above us, And Plenty with laden hand, Wedded to sturdy Labor, Goes singing through the land. Then let each child of the nation, Who glories in being free, Remember the Pilgrim Fathers Who stood on the rock by the sea; For there in the rain and tempest Of a night long passed away, They sowed the seeds of a harvest We gather in sheaves to-day.","Ella Wheeler Wilcox"
96,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,96,"2018-02-27 03:39:06","Part 7 Of Trout Fishing In America poem","THE PUDDING MASTER OF STANLEY BASINTree, snow and rock beginnings, the mountain in back of thelake promised us eternity, but the lake itself was filled withthousands of silly minnows, swimming close to the shoreand busy putting in hours of Mack Sennett time. The minnows were an Idaho tourist attraction. Theyshould have been made into a National Monument. Swimmingclose to shore, like children they believed in their own im-mortality . A third-year student in engineering at the University ofMontana attempted to catch some of the minnows but he wentabout it all wrong. So did the children who came on theFourth of July weekend. The children waded out into the lake and tried to catch theminnows with their hands. They also used milk cartons andplastic bags. They presented the lake with hours of humaneffort. Their total catch was one minnow. It jumped out of acan full of water on their table and died under the table, gasp-ing for watery breath while their mother fried eggs on theColeman stove. The mother apologized. She was supposed to be watchingthe fish --THIS IS MY EARTHLY FAILURE-- holding thedead fish by the tail, the fish taking all the bows like a youngJewish comedian talking about Adlai Stevenson. The third-year student in engineering at the University ofMontana took a tin can and punched an elaborate design ofholes in the can, the design running around and around incircles, like a dog with a fire hydrant in its mouth. Then heattached some string to the can and put a huge salmon eggand a piece of Swiss cheese in the can. After two hours ofintimate and universal failure he went back to Missoula,Montana. The woman who travels with me discovered the best wayto catch the minnows. She used a large pan that had in itsbottom the dregs of a distant vanilla pudding. She put thepan in the shallow water along the shore and instantly, hun-dreds of minnows gathered around. Then, mesmerized bythe vanilla pudding, they swam like a children's crusadeinto the pan. She caught twenty fish with one dip. She putthe pan full of fish on the shore and the baby played withthe fish for an hour. We watched the baby to make sure she was just leaningon them a little. We didn't want her to kill any of them be-cause she was too young. Instead of making her furry sound, she adapted rapidlyto the difference between animals and fish, and was soonmaking a silver sound. She caught one of the fish with her hand and looked at itfor a while. We took the fish out of her hand and put it backinto the pan. After a while she was putting the fish back byherself. Then she grew tired of this. She tipped the pan over anda dozen fish flopped out onto the shore. The children's gameand the banker's game, she picked up those silver things,one at a time, and put them back in the pan. There was stilla little water in it. The fish liked this. You could tell. When she got tired of the fish, we put them back in thelake, and they were all quite alive, but nervous. I doubt ifthey will ever want vanilla pudding again.","Richard Brautigan"
97,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,97,"2018-02-27 03:39:12","Calendar-Scenic America (Haiku Verses Ea.. poem","My wish for today: that poet friends were viewingthis, coffee in hand.JanuaryVibrant cherries shineice covered branches glimmermuted background same.FebruarySun swept red mountainsguard crowded boat marinamasts and poles worship.MarchAngry beach and skyhuge wave crashing red lighthousebirds, helical fence.AprilLegions of sunflowers starelifted on green leafed shouldersstormy horizonMayWhimsical lighthouseatop bouldered barren hillflanked by two small sheds.JuneLast light of sunsetpaints quiet water mosaicsmall sailboat silent.JulyChocolate mountainsnow sprinkles and pine tree standsfield of orange flowers.AugustTwo wierd cacti handspierce upside down flaming pitdesert sunset awe.SeptemberMountain, lake couplereflecting one togetherblue sky intrudes.OctoberInferno colorautumn trees dazzle sensesold fence and field yield.NovemberSheltering pine limbsframe small misty lake islandmorning's golden light.DecemberClassic large red barnpine and young elm trees surroundsnow on roof and yard.My poet friendsmay you have all life's blessingsand enjoy nature.Jim NorauskyKaty, Texas January,2009","Jim Norausky"
98,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,98,"2018-02-27 03:39:15","God Blessed America poem","god blessed america when he made the earthgod blessed america when he sent his son to sacrifisegod blessed america when he made us andgod blessed america when he made you","winter lees"
7040,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7040,"2018-02-27 13:28:59","Part 4 Of Trout Fishing In America poem","THE AUTOPSY OF TROUT FISHING IN AMERICAThis is the autopsy of Trout Fishing in America as if TroutFishing in America had been Lord Byron and had died inMissolonghi, Greece, and afterward never saw the shoresof Idaho again, never saw Carrie Creek, Worsewick HotSprings, Paradise Creek, Salt Creek and Duck Lake again.The Autopsy of Trout Fishing in America: ""The body was in excellent state and appeared as one thathad died suddenly of asphyxiation. The bony cranial vaultwas opened and the bones of the cranium were found veryhard without any traces of the sutures like the bones of aperson 80 years, so much so that one would have said thatthe cranium was formed by one solitary bone. . . . Themeninges were attached to the internal walls of the craniumso firmly that while sawing the bone around the interior todetach the bone from the dura the strength of two robust menwas not sufficient. . . . The cerebrum with cerebellumweighed about six medical pounds. The kidneys were verylarge but healthy and the urinary bladder was relativelysmall. "" On May 2, 1824, the body of Trout Fishing in Americaleft Missolonghi by ship destined to arrive in England on theevening of June 29, 1824. Trout Fishing in America's body was preserved in a caskholding one hundred-eighty gallons of spirits: 0, a long wayfrom Idaho, a long way from Stanley Basin, Little RedfishLake, the Big Lost River and from Lake Josephus and theBig Wood River.","Richard Brautigan"
7041,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7041,"2018-02-27 13:29:06","Part 8 Of Trout Fishing In America poem","A RETURN TO THE COVER OF THIS BOOKDear Trout Fishing in America: I met your friend Fritz in Washington Square. He told meto tell you that his case went to a jury and that he was acquit-ted by the jury. He said that it was important for me to say that his casewent to a jury and that he was acquitted by the jury,said it again. He looked in good shape. He was sitting in the sun. There'san old San Francisco saying that goes: ""It's better to rest inWashington Square than in the California Adult Authority. ""How are things in New York? Yours, ""An Ardent Admirer""Dear Ardent Admirer: It's good to hear that Fritz isn't in jail. He was very wor-ried about it. The last time I was in San Francisco, he toldme he thought the odds were 10-1 in favor of him going away.I told him to get a good lawyer. It appears that he followedmy advice and also was very lucky. That's always a goodcombination. You asked about New York and New York is very hot. I'm visiting some friends, a young burglar and his wife.He's unemployed and his wife is working as a cocktail wait-ress. He's been looking for work but I fear the worst. It was so hot last night that I slept with a wet sheet wrappedaround myself, trying to keep cool. I felt like a mental patient. I woke up in the middle of the night and the room was filledwith steam rising off the sheet, and there was jungle stuff,abandoned equipment and tropical flowers, on the floor andon the furniture. I took the sheet into the bathroom and plopped it into thetub and turned the cold water on it. Their dog came in andstarted barking at me. The dog barked so loud that the bathroom was soon filledwith dead people. One of them wanted to use my wet sheetfor a shroud. I said no, and we got into a big argument overit and woke up the Puerto Ricans in the next apartment, andthey began pounding on the walls. The dead people all left in a huff. ""We know when we'renot wanted, "" one of them said. ""You're damn tootin',"" I said. I've had enough. I' m going to get out of New York. Tomorrow I'm leaving forAlaska. I'm going to find an ice-cold creek near the Arcticwhere that strange beautiful moss grows and spend a weekwith the grayling. My address will be, Trout Fishing in Ameri-ca, c/o General Delivery, Fairbanks, Alaska. Your friend, Trout Fishing in America THE LAKE JOSEPHUS DAYSWe left Little Redfish for Lake Josephus, traveling along thegood names--from Stanley to Capehorn to Seafoam to theRapid River, up Float Creek, past the Greyhound Mine andthen to Lake Josephus, and a few days after that up the trailto Hell-diver Lake with the baby on my shoulders and a goodlimit of trout waiting in Hell-diver. Knowing the trout would wait there like airplane ticketsfor us to come, we stopped at Mushroom Springs and had adrink of cold shadowy water and some photographs taken ofthe baby and me sitting together on a log. I hope someday we'll have enough money to get those pic-tures developed. Sometimes I get curious about them, won-dering if they will turn out all right. They are in suspensionnow like seeds in a package. I'll be older when they are de-veloped and easier to please. Look there's the baby ! Lookthere's Mushroom Springs ! Look there's me ! I caught the limit of trout within an hour of reaching Hell-diver, and my woman, in all the excitement of good fishing,let the baby fall asleep directly in the sun and when the babywoke up, she puked and I carried her back down the trail. My woman trailed silently behind, carrying the rods andthe fish. The baby puked a couple more times, thimblefulsof gentle lavender vomit, but still it got on my clothes, andher face was hot and flushed. We stopped at Mushroom Springs. I gave her a smalldrink of water, not too much, and rinsed the vomit taste outof her mouth. Then I wiped the puke off my clothes and forsome strange reason suddenly it was a perfect time, thereat Mushroom Springs, to wonder whatever happened to theZoot suit. Along with World War II and the Andrews Sisters, theZoot suit had been very popular in the early 40s. I guessthey were all just passing fads. A sick baby on the trail down from Hell-diver, July 1961,is probably a more important question. It cannot be left togo on forever, a sick baby to take her place in the galaxy,among the comets, bound to pass close to the earth every173 years. She stopped puking after Mushroom Springs, and I carriedher back down along the path in and out of the shadows andacross other nameless springs, and by the time we got downto Lake Josephus, she was all right. She was soon running around with a big cutthroat trout inher hands, carrying it like a harp on her way to a concert--ten minutes late with no bus in sight and no taxi either","Richard Brautigan"
7042,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7042,"2018-02-27 13:29:10","Part 9 Of Trout Fishing In America poem","SANDBOX MINUS JOHN DILLINGER EQUALS WHAT?Often I return to the cover of Trout Fishing in America. Itook the baby and went down there this morning. They werewatering the cover with big revolving sprinklers. I saw somebread lying on the grass. It had been put there to feed thepigeons. The old Italians are always doing things like that. Thebread had been turned to paste by the water and was squashedflat against the grass. Those dopey pigeons were waiting untilthe water and grass had chewed up the bread for them, sothey wouldn't have to do it themselves. I let the baby play in the sandbox and I sat down on a benchand looked around. There was a beatnik sitting at the otherend -of the bench. He had his sleeping bag beside him and hewas eating apple turnovers. He had a huge sack of apple turn-overs and he was gobbling them down like a turkey. It wasprobably a more valid protest than picketing missile bases. The baby played in the sandbox. She had on a red dressand the Catholic church was towering up behind her red dress.There was a brick john between her dress and the church. Itwas there by no accident. Ladies to the left and gents to theright. A red dress, I thought. Wasn't the woman who set JohnDillinger up for the FBI wearing a red dress? They calledher ""The Woman in Red. "" It seemed to me that was right. It was a red dress, but sofar, John Dillinger was nowhere in sight. my daughterplayed alone in the sandbox. Sandbox minus John Dillinger equals what? The beatnik went and got a drink of water from the fountainthat was crucified on the wall of the brick john, more towardthe gents than the ladies. He had to wash all those apple turn-overs down his throat. There were three sprinklers going in the park. There wasone in front of the Benjamin Franklin statue and one to theside of him and one just behind him. They were all turning incircles. I saw Benjamin Franklin standing there patientlythrough the water. The sprinkler to the side of Benjamin Franklin hit the left-hand tree. It sprayed hard against the trunk and knocked someleaves down from the tree, and then it hit the center tree,sprayed hard against the trunk and more leaves fell. Then itsprayed against Benjamin Franklin, the water shot out to thesides of the stone and a mist drifted down off the water. Ben-jamin Franklin got his feet wet. The sun was shining down hard on me. The sun was brightand hot. After a while the sun made me think of my own dis-comfort. The only shade fell on the beatnik. The shade came down off the Lillie Hitchcock Colt statueof some metal fireman saving a metal broad from a mentalfire. The beatnik now lay on the bench and the shade was twofeet longer than he was. A friend of mine has written a poem about that statue. God-damn, I wish he would write another poem about that statue,SO it would give me some shade two feet longer than my body. I was right about ""The Woman in Red, "" because ten min-utes later they blasted John Dillinger down in the sandbox.The sound of the machine-gun fire startled the pigeons andthey hurried on into the church. My daughter was seen leaving in a huge black car shortlyafter that. She couldn't talk yet, but that didn't make any dif-ference. The red dress did it all. John Dillinger's body lay half in and half out of the sand-box, more toward the ladies than the gents. He was leakingblood like those capsules we used to use with oleomargarine,in those good old days when oleo was white like lard. The huge black car pulled out and went up the street, bat-light shining off the top. It stopped in front of the ice-creamparlor at Filbert and Stockton. An agent got out and went in and bought two hundreddouble-decker ice-cream cones. He needed a wheelbarrowto get them back to the car.","Richard Brautigan"
7043,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7043,"2018-02-27 13:29:14","Lines To A Friend Visiting America poem","INow farewell to you! you areOne of my dearest, whom I trust:Now follow you the Western star,And cast the old world off as dust.IIFrom many friends adieu! adieu!The quick heart of the word therein.Much that we hope for hangs with you:We lose you, but we lose to win.IIIThe beggar-king, November, frets:His tatters rich with Indian dyesGoes hugging: we our season's debtsPay calmly, of the Spring forewise.IVWe send our worthiest; can no less,If we would now be read aright, -To that great people who may blessOr curse mankind: they have the might.VThe proudest seasons find their graves,And we, who would not be wooed, must court.We have let the blunderers and the wavesDivide us, and the devil had sport.VIThe blunderers and the waves no moreShall sever kindred sending forthTheir worthiest from shore to shoreFor welcome, bent to prove their worth.VIIGo you and such as you afloat,Our lost kinsfellowship to revive.The battle of the antidoteIs tough, though silent: may you thrive!VIIII, when in this North wind I seeThe straining red woods blown awry,Feel shuddering like the winter tree,All vein and artery on cold sky.IXThe leaf that clothed me is torn away;My friend is as a flying seed.Ay, true; to bring replenished dayLight ebbs, but I am bare, and bleed.XWhat husky habitations seemThese comfortable sayings! they fell,In some rich year become a dream:-So cries my heart, the infidel! . . .XIOh! for the strenuous mind in quest,Arabian visions could not vieWith those broad wonders of the West,And would I bid you stay? Not I!XIIThe strange experimental landWhere men continually dare takeNiagara leaps;--unshattered stand'Twixt fall and fall;--for conscience' sake,XIIIDrive onward like a flood's increase; -Fresh rapids and abysms engage; -(We live--we die) scorn fireside peace,And, as a garment, put on rage,XIVRather than bear God's reprimand,By rearing on a full fat soilConcrete of sin and sloth;--this land,You will observe it coil in coil.XVThe land has been discover'd long,The people we have yet to know;Themselves they know not, save that strongFor good and evil still they grow.XVINor know they us. Yea, well enoughIn that inveterate machineThrough which we speak the printed stuffDaily, with voice most hugeous, mienXVIITremendous:- as a lion's showThe grand menagerie paintings hide:Hear the drum beat, the trombones blow!The poor old Lion lies inside! . . .XVIIIIt is not England that they hear,But mighty Mammon's pipers, trainedTo trumpet out his moods, and stirHis sluggish soul: HER voice is chained:XIXAlmost her spirit seems moribund!O teach them, 'tis not she displaysThe panic of a purse rotund,Eternal dread of evil days, -XXThat haunting spectre of successWhich shows a heart sunk low in the girths:Not England answers nobleness, -'Live for thyself: thou art not earth's.'XXINot she, when struggling manhood triesFor freedom, air, a hopefuller fate,Points out the planet, Compromise,And shakes a mild reproving pate:XXIISays never: 'I am well at ease,My sneers upon the weak I shed:The strong have my cajoleries:And those beneath my feet I tread.'XXIIINay, but 'tis said for her, great Lord!The misery's there! The shameless oneAdjures mankind to sheathe the sword,Herself not yielding what it won:-XXIVHer sermon at cock-crow doth preach,On sweet Prosperity--or greed.'Lo! as the beasts feed, each for each,God's blessings let us take, and feed!'XXVUngrateful creatures crave a part -She tells them firmly she is full;Lost sheared sheep hurt her tender heartWith bleating, stops her ears with wool:-XXVISeized sometimes by prodigious qualms(Nightmares of bankruptcy and death), -Showers down in lumps a load of alms,Then pants as one who has lost a breath;XXVIIBelieves high heaven, whence favours flow,Too kind to ask a sacrificeFor what it specially doth bestow; -Gives SHE, 'tis generous, cheese to mice.XXVIIIShe saw the young Dominion stripFor battle with a grievous wrong,And curled a noble Norman lip,And looked with half an eye sidelong;XXIXAnd in stout Saxon wrote her sneers,Denounced the waste of blood and coin,Implored the combatants, with tears,Never to think they could rejoin.XXXOh! was it England that, alas!Turned sharp the victor to cajole?Behold her features in the glass:A monstrous semblance mocks her soul!XXXIA false majority, by stealth,Have got her fast, and sway the rod:A headless tyrant built of wealth,The hypocrite, the belly-God.XXXIITo him the daily hymns they raise:His tastes are sought: his will is done:He sniffs the putrid steam of praise,Place for true England here is none!XXXIIIBut can a distant race discernThe difference 'twixt her and him?My friend, that will you bid them learn.He shames and binds her, head and limb.XXXIVOld wood has blossoms of this sort.Though sound at core, she is old wood.If freemen hate her, one retortShe has; but one!--'You are my blood.'XXXVA poet, half a prophet, roseIn recent days, and called for power.I love him; but his mountain prose -His Alp and valley and wild flower -XXXVIProclaimed our weakness, not its source.What medicine for disease had he?Whom summoned for a show of force?Our titular aristocracy!XXXVIIWhy, these are great at City feasts;From City riches mainly rise:'Tis well to hear them, when the beastsThat die for us they eulogize!XXXVIIIBut these, of all the liveried crewObeisant in Mammon's walk,Most deferent ply the facial screw,The spinal bend, submissive talk.XXXIXSmall fear that they will run to books(At least the better form of seed)!I, too, have hoped from their good looks,And fables of their Northman breed; -XLHave hoped that they the land would headIn acts magnanimous; but, lo,When fainting heroes beg for breadThey frown: where they are driven they go.XLIGood health, my friend! and may your lotBe cheerful o'er the Western rounds.This butter-woman's market-trotOf verse is passing market-bounds.XLIIAdieu! the sun sets; he is gone.On banks of fog faint lines extend:Adieu! bring back a braver dawnTo England, and to me my friend.","George Meredith"
7044,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7044,"2018-02-27 13:29:16","To The Republicans Of North America poem","I.Brothers! between you and meWhirlwinds sweep and billows roar:Yet in spirit oft I seeOn thy wild and winding shoreFreedom’s bloodless banners wave,--Feel the pulses of the braveUnextinguished in the grave,--See them drenched in sacred gore,--Catch the warrior's gasping breathMurmuring 'Liberty or death!' II.Shout aloud! Let every slave,Crouching at Corruption's throne,Start into a man, and braveRacks and chains without a groan:And the castle's heartless glow, And the hovel's vice and woe,Fade like gaudy flowers that blow--Weeds that peep, and then are goneWhilst, from misery's ashes risen,Love shall burst the captive's prison. III.Cotopaxi! bid the soundThrough thy sister mountains ring,Till each valley smile aroundAt the blissful welcoming!And, O thou stern Ocean deep, Thou whose foamy billows sweepShores where thousands wake to weepWhilst they curse a villain king,On the winds that fan thy breastBear thou news of Freedom's rest! IV.Can the daystar dawn of love,Where the flag of war unfurledFloats with crimson stain aboveThe fabric of a ruined world?Never but to vengeance driven When the patriot's spirit shrivenSeeks in death its native Heaven!There, to desolation hurled,Widowed love may watch thy bier,Balm thee with its dying tear.","Percy Bysshe Shelley"
7045,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7045,"2018-02-27 13:29:23","* April (From Calendar-Scenic America- H.. poem","Sunflower legions lifted on green leafed shouldersstare dark horizons.","Jim Norausky"
7046,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7046,"2018-02-27 13:29:25","The Declaration Of Independence (Ameri.. poem","Once a shiny nation was established ‘cross the seaSmelted out of blood and sweat, to guarantee all men be freeEscaping religious tyranny, they traveled to a new land soThat their future generations could worship God you knowAs the promises of freedom did themselves unwindThe colonies together, forged a new documental mindThey appealed to the Supreme Judge, The Creator their fathers knewAsking The Divine Providence, for the protection dueThey sent to all concerned, a great message far and wideJust how the King of Britain, was raping liberties for prideThey'd asked only for equality, entitled under Nature's GodSome Represent to Parliament, for laws considered oddBut when the document was given its final showThe Colonial Congress, decided compromise would flowStripping the Declaration of one, very justifiable actTo obtain unanimous vote, left slavery intactThe great Revolution, as it soon came to be calledBrought new hope to the free world, its being oceanic walledBut soon was the Confederation, in dire need of something newA stronger central government, with constitution tooIn The Constitution, many forefathers did frameThe working of government and our protection from the sameBeing left within all there still stood, human slavery at the backWhich God himself would not approve, and no one would attackSome would say it was strange, that fifty years to the dayJefferson and Adams died, on the Fourth of July God's wayBe it eighty seven years later, Gettysburg Battlefield lay deadWhere many men consecrated, the land in their blood redSince the fourth of sixty, our flag has carried fiftyThe states in which we reside, twenty-twelve marks one-fiftyFrom the start of that great Civil War, that we here too must fight a newBecause injustice has been done, Rights for the unborn tooTo compromise may seem the best to leave it lay at restBut to The Lord of Heaven, He'll place you to His test< br> When reading The Declaration of Independence, I was amazed at the four references made to the Supreme Being. I found it quite interesting that this document written by Thomas Jefferson, with minor changes made by Benjamin Franklin and John Adams contained the words: Nature's God, Creator, Supreme Judge and Divine Providence (notice the capitalization referring to a specific one) . It was addressed to the world but made its appeal to the Supreme Judge (not the king of England nor The Pope, but someone higher) . After more minor changes by the delegates, including deleting a section condemning slavery, it was unanimously approved. Just think, thousands of lives could have been saved (i.e. no Civil War) along with a totally free Union, if that section would have remained and not been compromised just to get a unanimous vote.Does not the same thing happen today? Does not the party with morals continue to compromise with the idiots? If the idiots wish for chaos, welfare, etc... Let them do it elsewhere, No More Compromising! < br>america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america america","Udiah (witness to Yah)"
7047,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7047,"2018-02-27 13:29:31","'I Believe In America' poem","I Believe In America…., we’re a nation of hopes and dreams….., Sweet freedom will fill our needs…., I Believe In America.I Believe In America…., I believe we must fight for peace…., My faith in us will never cease…., I Believe In America.With His strength from up above…, We’ll prevail on our massive quest…, Our nation breathes kindness and love….., We’ll lead our world to happiness.I Believe In America…, we are united in democracy…., Defeating evil and hypocrisy…., I Believe In America.Our Lord is watching every move we make….., I know He’ll help us do our best…., Guiding us with every step we take…., Because our lives are truly blessed.I Believe In America…., we’re a nation of hopes and dreams….., Sweet freedom will fill our needs…., I Believe In America. Yes, I Believe In America.","Trade Martin"
7048,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7048,"2018-02-27 13:29:37","America poem","America, oh sweet home of mineGlories beaconing fineMy heart longs for youYour path way i dream to pass thru.America, this dwelling of bountiful opportunitiesOther lands merging for your treaties.Beauty of all sought lies in your calling terrainEyes for glory can never look in vain.America, these victors at battle fieldAll from God, you obey and yield.you traces and fight the test of time, And glance at echoes of time.America, i accomodate you in my vacuum remainingNo way for others complaining.Now, my muse waxing lyricaAll for you America","Godspower Oshodin"
7049,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7049,"2018-02-27 13:29:44","What Does America Need To Do To Survive? poem","The first area to look into is those pillars of American success I identified above: Cheap Labor, Cheap Energy, Cheap Food and a country filled with natural resources.To this list I will now add, a decent birth rate or immigrant flow, small town and technical green enclave investment, income distribution reform, land distribution reforms, banking and financial reforms and a re-thinking of the purposes of an economy.Cheap labor built this country, from the Chinese coming to lay the track for the railroads, to the Africans working the cotton in the South, to the immigrants from Europe who cleared the land in the west, who worked the factories, fought the wars and made America what it is today. Needless to say the labor scene is not the same today. Cheap labor has been outsourced to other countries.The American middle class has not only been abandoned but 40% of American savings were taken from them and their homes, their major asset, are now selling for half the purchase price to those very same interests which took the savings and the land.We are heading for a two class system, therefore, the rich and the poor. Certainly that is the pattern becoming evident in many of our cities. In addition, there is the lack of labor, cheap or otherwise, which is the demographic issue. Americans are not having children, nor are Europeans and the demographics are becoming clear: By 2050, some demographic studies show, the reproducing populations of Russia, Britain, France and Italy will, in essence, cease to exist and the traditional populations will be replaced by immigrants from other countries. The same trends are evident in the United States as well. Latin American birth rates outstrip those of Americans and demography become destiny, in a flice.So, as we age in this country, we see a younger population replacing an older one, of a very different stripe. Our children will learn more Spanish in the short-run but English will have resurgence in the next generation. What is to be done in this context is now our challenge.The first issue in the short run is the economy. The country will, and already has, in certain communities become a two-economy society. Why should I, nor can I, compete for basic living necessities with individuals earning 2-3 times more than I do? A two-economy solution, whether created or defacto-realized seems inevitable. The rich will likely not be allowed to shop in the second economy where the price of necessities can be artificially raised in a so-called 'free market.' This solution creates a low-cost economy of necessities for those who provide the labor. This makes sense and many do this to survive anyway today. Thrift shops, discount stores, Walmarts all attest to the fact that the middle class cannot afford middle class and upper middle class prices.The second pillar of revamping the labor force (the one above creates an economy which works for them) is to have that labor force become more self-sufficient and not be susceptible to being wiped out by Wall Street machinations and global trends in far away countries. This means the re-claiming of productive land and small towns where they can be supportive of a laboring population. Bartering, co-ops, low living costs, plus a land reform policy can make the country side more productive and sustainable especially in the context of greening these small towns to produce energy for re-sale to the grid.Believe it or not Detroit is trying this approach. Tear the detoriated buildings down, down-size the city, allow for population loss, put in self-sufficient gardening and farming plots, bring in technological enclaves. This is an admission that the city model does not work, at least in Detroit.Now you have idle workers in small towns all over the country. We can make those small towns productive with massive investments. How you say is that possible? More tomorrow.February 18,2010 - Survival Chapter ThreeAs I have stated elsewhere our children, will not be able to afford the suburban home of the past.In the cities they will be forced and are, already, living three to five a house or apartment. High unemployment will remain with us and a revamping of the economy from a service emphasis to a new high-tech, green emphasis will take time. What to do. Here are a few modest proposals about what to do with the labor force, idle out there and hurting.1-Create a massive internal peace corp. Put people to work re-vamping small towns for their change-over to a more self-sustaining model. This includes local organic food stuffs, grown and consumed. Free up land for this purpose. People will grow gardens. Put money into green training and irrigation projects. Bring people languishing unproductively in the cities back into these very same small towns. Bring back and support local and regional banks and co-ops of various kinds, crops, loans, machinery, techno co-ops can work if local.Remember what happens when we allow Wall Street to become our bankers? . Take those same highly educated city grads, currently living five to an apartment, and give them money to go back home to their own small towns, or others to help set up the infrastructure need to fuel this internal peace corp re-generation of America. Move people out of the cities with incentives to go back to the small town or the medium sized town. We have technology now where we don't need to congregate in cities to be productive, that was an industrial model where you needed the labor force close and available near ports and transportation hubs. We don't need this so much in this post industrial era. Has this model been tried? Sure. Dependent wage-earners in the city are an economic failure. We should admit it and go local and regional. The poor won't be poor if they are given the means to access the basics of life. The middle class can revert to the community help model that is still in place in many small towns, and has been for centuries. After all, most of the world was a small town model until populations were forced into the cities to serve the needs of robber barons. Now the second aspect of reform is to take the technological enclaves I have described and integrate them into what I have described above. I have noted that much of the information revolution is actually driven by a few high skilled enclaves around the world and by relatively few people. They are Silicon valley-like enclaves in California, China, Singapore, France, Germany, Hong-Kong etc. These enclaves are small towns where participants know one another and exchange ideas. This is the second model of small town regeneration. These type two small towns are to be in contact with type one small towns and can become training cadres for small town re-generation. How? Give them tax breaks to do so and guess what they will have at their disposal; cheap labor from the sources we identified above. That is what we need to do in the short run, town by town. So we have a new source of cheap labor, idle now but can become productive again. Empty the cities, get people out of what are inefficient enclaves and get them to places where the population can begin to benefit itself not a few hundred thousand rich souls who control city life.Ah, not possible you say? The choice here is stark: Either we organize this new re-generation by planful means or it will occur in an unplanned way, which is to say people abandoning the cities and invading the country side looking for the means to survive. Be mindful here that any disaster of any meaningful proportions will initiate this process anyway and we will not have planned for itA last stark fact: The average grocer has three days worth of food on the shelves. People will invade the country side looking for food and this will be the plan I just discussed being initiated the hard way. And that is ugly. The collapse of centralized authority, unplanned, happened with the collapse of the Roman Empire, initiating the Dark Ages, happened, in fact, in the bible as I have argued above, and happened with the collapse of Egyptian rule in Canaan. It happened with Katrina. Any breakdown from natural or man-made sources will create the pattern I describe above. February 22,2010 'What Does America Need To Survive? ' Chapter 4 Have there been other examples of civilizations abandoning the city as unworkable; or central authority collasping, of abandoning empire as unworkable? The Mayans abandoned pyramid building, the Greeks, the Babylonians, the French, the British, the Romans, countless examples. Most large scale centralized authority systems fall down. They are not generally pulled down. The most recent example is that of the Russians who abandoned their empire as unworkable. It is part of a normal pattern. So now to get to the detail. Include the army in the small town regeneration project, along with the young and the college-educated. Many of them have ties to these small towns and it would be a home coming. Have the technological enclaves close by with small towns providing labor in exchange for training. Isn't that what the Army does anyway? Focus efforts in regeneration on greening and self-sufficiency. These would be key. This would mean small truck farms, wind, solar and the techno-enclave would be in proximity. And, ultimately, able to produce energy for the gird. Of course, there will be a fight over the land. Currently developers, banks, railroads, utilities and the US government own most of the land in the country. There would have to be a new land use policy. Survival is at stake. But the fight could be won because small states dominate in the US Senate and a deal could be struck because their states would benefit from such a plan.Think of it. Most of the wasted resources in this country are utilized keeping the cities afloat. They are not economic, crime ridden, have no real products they produce, have teeming unemployment looming and bound to get worse and net resource wasters. They demand massive investments in transportation, food, energy and give little back in terms of long-term sustainability. Young people, the idle, the technologically advanced are better utilized on the country-side landscape. Just a thought.So cheap labor is possible to put back into the American equation. As I am fond of saying, this will happen well and planned or ill-planned and ugly. February 26,2010 'Survive'The next item in tandem is cheap energy. Above we have mentioned wind and solar. We add to the list battery power, and nuclear power. There are ideas around the idea of clean coal and cheap oil, but we are better off looking at fuel substitutes that include vegetable oils and other grain based fuels. At the very least stockpiles ought to be created for the emergencies which will surely come in the future. But will all this be enough, timely and efficient in the face of climate change, aging populations, declining incomes, looming depression, and political paralysis? Such timing is critical, the answer is unknown. However, we have no choice in the energy field; we must act as if we will succeed. The overall goal is clear; create a society which city and country-side produce net energy give-backs to the grid. Friends of mine stated part of the problem succinctly, “Why re-build an outmoded infrastructure; build the new one directly.' On the energy level the task is a delicate one: We have to build the boat we are sailing to Europe on while sailing to Europe. The reason that this is even to be looked at is that you can do this if you build the boat as a series of rafts strung together. Those rafts are small towns. Seen this way, it is possible to accomplish the task. Of course there is not enough money in the world to re-build the old infrastructure, but a green infra-structure is possible under scenarios I outline below. That structure is cheaper in the long run, more competitive, locally controlled and has cheaper labor costs, as I have outlined above. The next issue is cheap food. America has long been the bread basket of the world but that small-farmer model of production has long been replaced by big agriculture which now means genetic farming where corn itself has reduced strains available and many of them owned, repeat, owned by the Monsanto's of the world. It is illegal to grow the corn without their permission. This, of course, changes the cheap food equation. If grain seed and indeed water, and the very air can become private property then the house of cards will collapse. Clearly this system is not sustainable and is not viable as a public good.Re-generation will have to be accompanied by a re-thinking of who owns food grains. Who owns water, land, air? It is instructive to even have to discuss these issues this way. What hath progress wrought? How can food be re-democratized? It will have to be. Hungry people will find a way to feed their families and Monsanto and their patents will have to stand aside and let people grow what ever they want.Now a potential catalyst in all of this are returning veterans from our two wars. (War is a form of employment which is why it so easily becomes popular.) These folks, having made sacrifices for the country will come home, assuming the wars end, will need jobs and there are none. They will need medical care, in a medical system which is broken. They will need re-training, in a country which is cutting college budgets. Something similar happened after World War one and those vets marched on Washington. It can happen again. These might when they and their families find they cannot make a living once back home. They are good candidates for re-generation projects where living costs will be lower and green re-training possible.But the potential volatility of that issue remains. The two economy solution will become more apparent with these veterans back home. After all we have an example of this with the military itself where the internal military economy runs on it own terms not those of the general American economy.So what then is the next issue to be solved? We need to look at small town economic models and their regional counterparts. Tomorrow. February 27,2010 'Survive'The economic picture is glum, but things will sort themselves out well or badly. Let's concentrate on well. The first item many of you have mentioned is the issue of where will the money come from to institute many of the ideas I have outlined above. Bob mentioned the national debt, two wars, and a trillion dollar deficit. All true. The national debt is 12.4 trillion dollars and soon the interest payments against that debt will be the second largest item in the national budget.What will happen? What can happen? Can we or our children pay this debt? No, not right now.What will likely happen is either default or re-structuring. We owe the money to the Chinese and the Japanese mostly and we will likely simply restructure with both and create new lower payments. They might, and likely will agree, to the extent they can see their exports increase to us in our re-generation efforts here. They could get some debt funds paid back in that way, along with currency re-valuation in the Chinese example. And guess who will be in China, utilizing that cheap labor-US companies who can produce for the US market utilizing this foreign labor and also help create that green market back home as well. This has synergy. Sloppy synergy but yes synergy. Inevitable? No. But a logical path. The two wars cost about 120 billion a year and have to be wound down slowly so as to not exacerbate all those towns dependent upon military contracts in the United States and all those countries dependent upon US military bases abroad. We are a war-dependent economy seeking to become a peace economy that will take time, say 20 years. So the first step in economic re-generation will be the global changes described above from the perspective of the United States. We can't pay. Besides we need the money for the internal changes above or we pay in internal disruptions from economic chaos if we don't act. Think 20 rolling Katrina's due to water shortages in one case, food shortages in another case, rising inflation which make the dollar worth a lot less, transportation breakdowns, terrorist attacks etc. We are a fragile over-technologized society, and so interdependent that five airplanes can bring our economy to its knees. This is not good.Now the small town answer here is therefore a good idea not only for economic reasons but for strict military reasons as well. Ninety-five percent of the people living on one percent of the land is a bad idea militarily. Disbursement is a better idea.Now the mix we are talking about here is one of small-town, regional and yes some cities where cities make sense. But the basis of the American future has to be local, upgraded with technology, not massed populations in vulnerable cities. Re-generation is re-building America from the bottom up and abandoning top-down systems.So how much time will this all take and what are the barriers? March 1,2010 'Survival'A wise sage once said 'What to do is easy, but the first step of what to do is the problem.' The same is true here. The answer to the question of how long we have to accomplish certain critical first steps is a function of how long will the first steps take. And what are those first steps? Here we go: The country has to be put on a disaster footing, whether that disaster is any of the calamities I have described above or some one not yet conceived. Here is what I think we have to do, over what time line, with what human power sources and at what cost: 1-Just as we have voting booths and places in every community in the United States we must do the same for the regeneration effort. We will need in an emergency, power, medical, housing food, water, and energy and ways to move people efficiently. We partially have this in place with F.E.M.A but I would not bet my life on their help, would you? The first scenario is the three to-five day survival period. In a disaster we want people to be self-sufficient and be able to survive for at least three-to five days after an event or in general: -That is every home must have five days of food, non-perishable (remember, we assume no power will be available) -Each home must have or access to five days of clean water-Each home must have access to an emergency medical kit-Each home must have a shortwave radio kit or access to same-Each home must have a fuel generation kit, assuming gasoline supplies will quickly become depleted-Each home must have access to the ability to produce heat or fire-Each home must have a tent for temporary shelter if necessary.-Each home must have seed grains for a vegetable garden (yes, let's think ahead) -Each home must have a 12 volt battery, an auto battery will do and, add two bicycles, and a crowbar and rope.-Each block must have a disaster warden, someone who would get training in the above items and their use; a paid position.Right now some homes have these items, most don't. Some communities have their processes in place, some don't.Shopping list item one for the state and federal government: Have our re-generation work force, (remember these folks?) create 'Survival Support Kits' on every block in America. Kit production will provide jobs; make survivability a real option for Americans not only for natural disasters but other kinds of slow degeneration from economic collapse as well. These kits will be on every block, or within walking distance and supplement those home supplies I have described above. Why all this effort? The worse thing you can have is millions of people in the cities on the move after five days looking for food or trying to escape the chaos of the cities. There are massive issues with this kind of movement. You want folks to hunker down in place and survive for at least five days to ten days until state or federal efforts can be mounted.Hunkering down also makes security for these communities easier, rather than dealing with a scattered population on the move.The details of how you get fuel without gasoline I will spare you but survivalists know them well. How much will this effort cost? Unknown, but my guess is each kit and its mobile container will cost in materials about 750 dollars. Labor costs would be about 500 per kit, transportation, training and placement and after support: about 2,500 dollars per kit for the first year. Let's add contingency costs and the kit total is 5,000 per unit. How many units? Let's say a million units installed in each of five years: 25 billion. Of course there are other costs as well. All we have here is survival days one through five. But what about after the five to ten day period I have postulated. More on that tomorrow. March 2,2010 'Survival' All of the above effort gets us five to ten days of sufficing, mostly in the city. Beyond the ten-day mark there is a lot more to do. Moreover, what I have described above is mostly related to the cities. The country side effort is presumed to be in place from the other efforts described above and will have similar outlines as the city effort except that the Army, state and federal forces will lead that effort. After ten days cities will be out of food and masses of individuals will head toward the country-side to escape what will be an increasingly chaotic and dangerous city environment; people use guns to get what they need, looting, dogs running in packs, sanitation issues erupt right away. Terrible..These patterns of behavior are not uncommon; we see them in every prolonged disaster or emergency.Most of these ideas work in fire, earthquake, terrorist action, drought, power failure, water issues etc. They are not great for nuclear war. There all bets are off.Now in the country side you have to have in place before the above disasters or slowly degenerating circumstances (the latter is more likely) reception centers to receive the city dwellers. Housing, kits, medical attention, sustainability planning all will have to be done before hand. The kits I speak of have to be along major exit routes and highways out of the urban areas and final destination points have to be marked out before hand to handle millions of people. Food stuffs, water purification, temporary governmental functioning, security issues, communication, transportation and mobility- all issues that this country has not acted upon and may have to. A slow moving degeneration of our financial systems in the easiest to deal with. But think back to October 1929. The collapse of the stock market put millions on the road looking for food and work. Then most people had country cousins who grew food. Today this is not the case today. This can happen again and we have done nothing to anticipate or prepare. What will a truly national or even regional effort look like? We build that infrastructure block by block, city by city, region by region focusing our effort based on what areas, cities or regions have the best sustainability components and spend money in those areas which do not. The have's are put to work creating sustainability for the have-nots.But details and costs loom here. How can this be done in the next twenty years-an arbitrary time period, but one I think is the last window we have to have gotten much of this in place. We create hubs, local and regional until a national network is in place. The jobs it will create will help. The products, all aligned with sustainability and green goals give the country a future in the global economy, and we come out if it stronger militarily and mentally. But as always the question is what comes first, who does it, how much will it cost and how effective will this effort be? March 3,2010 'Survival'The mounting of a national effort encompassing a local, regional and country-wide effort will take twenty years. It will involve a simultaneous re-vamping of the American economy and political structure such that local self-sufficiency to the maximum degree possible is built into the new system. Our issues with infra-structure, energy, power, food etc are all based upon the assumption that the present system will be in place when clearly the present system needs to be totally re-conceptualized. The maxim is that with every complex system at some point there simply isn't enough brain power at the top to manage systems when they reach a certain size, no matter how much technology we throw at it. The dream that we could automate our way to a well run system is a dream. It happens over and over again with empires, cities and even small regions. People run systems best who are close to the production of its basic outlines. What if I were President? What would I do? Well the American people, and others in other countries, do not really believe that life can change from what it currently is. We are paralyzed into complacency, feel powerless to change anything and not sure if we really want to see much change. As one of my students said, 'Will I still be able to still play piano? ' Now the first thing I would do is to shake up the situation with new Federal law that would place in each American home the basic needs I have outlined above for the first line of defense in the event of an emergency in American cities. Each home or block would receive one of the kits I describe at a cost of five hundred per kit. This is the 'wake-up call' approach.Things have to be shaken up. Kick the mule to get his attention. This is a signal that we as Americans are vulnerable to various emergencies and must make preparations. I would bill it as the first steps toward local control and de-centralization, away from centralized banks and financial systems to more local ones, to more local political and social control, to a more self-sufficient country; re-building America from the bottom up and creating new self-sufficiency green and smart jobs. This is true re-organization and cheaper by far than the current centralized system which mostly benefit, life-time politicians, lobbyists and the rich. That is America's future if America is going to survive and compete in the global economy of the future. If this is not done the current situation where the top five percent of the population has control over more wealth that the bottom ninety-five percent will create social unrest of enormous proportions and a re-alignment will occur through the messy method and social unrest, rather than through the ways I am proposing here. Let's hope we all come to our senses.Update June 15,2010 An interesting question here is how do the re-generation principles above match up with an actual emergency, such as the BP oil spill? The above was written before the spill but it provides an example of what is happening and how, if a re-generation plan had been in place, things would be different.First we have a spill, the largest in American history which will contaminate over 1/3 of the Gulf of Mexico, is an environmental disaster, will affect the livelihood of thousands along the coast and inland as well, among some some the poorest states in the Union. Unemployment, damaged tourism, and decay will be with the regions for years.And to boot we are treated to a scene where politicians parade across our tv screens promising relief but delivering none, in it mainly to get their faces on TV and hoping thereby to get re-elected, no FEMA springs into action, and payments have to come from BP and meantime how are people going to feed themselves, and make boat and house payments? A mess.Now under re-generation, first of all, BP would be required to click a computer screen and transfer a few billion dollars directly to local banks who where the individuals involved could draw upon. This would take a few minutes. Right now they are sending checks after a claims process.But we have no local banks. Besides the politicians want credit for relief because that means votes for them. Too quick relief and they become irrelevant.Local banking structures who have the house note and the boat note could and would be in place under regeneration. There is no subsitute for a local person who knows each individual in the community and their needs. If BP didn't transfer the money then the Federal Reserve or the Federal government should or under re-generation would be required to.. It is a down payment on ultimate claims but people in an emergency need money now, not later. Have I mentioned local co-ops. They are even better than local banks but many don't have the electronic transfer techology to handle some tranactions and don't hold the mortgages and boat notes. Credit unions are also good choices, but same problem. We have to build these under re-generation.Second, given what is a slow moving disaster a livelihood for millions has now been destroyed. Where will they find work? Many, as was the case with Katrina will abandon the old jobs and livelihood and we will see decay, boarded up business and migration. Under re-generation a self-sufficient plan would be in place to have those unemployed be employed locally in techno and small town enclaves and available for disaster relief. There would have been a plan B. There is no plan B now in place in the Gulf and there was no plan B; and there is no plan B even being planned for the Hurricane season upcoming.Hurricane season. Boy is there a need for plan B. When the winds arrive what hopes for a return to normalcy might be dashed and millions will be in need or at least on the move.Are we preparing? Nope. The states say we have no money. The Fed says BP is going to pay, BP is going to say hey, the people responsible for rig safety are registered in the Marshall Islands and can't be touched. A court battle will take years and people will be long discouraged or gone and nobody will in the end will take responsibility.The moral of this tale is clear: Communities have to plan for self-sufficiency against man-made and natural disasters. Plan for food, energy, and the labor force to rebuild or sustain what is in place. The large enties, the government, BP etc can't and don't have an interest in helping. It is not profitable for the oil company to give away too much money, and is useful to the politicians only in as much as they can get votes out of it for the next election. After that they move on to the next photo op.We have to think that the self-sufficient frontier societies of 150 years ago have to be wedded to the techo innovations of today to keep this country going and for it to thrive. Be sure to write your congress person.June 20,2010Now that BP has come up with 20 billion the first interesting point is that it could not deliver the funds directly or quickly to the people who need it. No, they gave the money to the US government. Be prepared for a long wait while the state and local politicians hop a plane to washington to see if they can get their hands on that money and control of it's distribution so as to dole it out to friends, supporters who can help them get re-elected while the people in the gulf deplete their life savings, go into debt, search for other work, prepare for cleanup which might last years, contemplate that 1/3 of the gulf being poisioned, while the marshlands affected by the spill die and make the land areas more vunerable to hurricanes just months away. Things ain't going so swell.So what to do? First get the money out of the US hands to local banks and /or co-ops formed by the communities themselves, composed of the members of that community. (A pipe dream I know) But some people have formed communities and they ought to be encouraged.Secondly, a regional disaster recovery plan ought to be instituted following the steps I have outlined above. (Has anyone heard from FEMA lately?) We ought to be hiring the unemployed and the skilled to go down to institute the plan on a regional basis. First we need to implement the short term emergency plan I outlined about while simultaneouly instituting the long term plans I identified.Note here the the ability of residents in the area to earn a livelihood from the Gulf may be affected for many years. A new plan for the small towns in the area has to be created So what is to be the new self-sustaining model for the area? Obviously the last plan of depending upon the sea and tourism didn't work so well.I like the idea of desalination of the sea, solar power and water power from the Gulf. Make the hurricanes pay from them selves by harnassing the wind to produce electricity. Just a thought. Here would be cheap energy, cheap labor and we could introduce elements of cheap food.Will this happen? Only God knows, but I would not take odds on it.","Lonnie Hicks"
7050,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7050,"2018-02-27 13:29:47","Z-The Muse- Whither America? poem","I asked the Muse Whither America? 'I see millions in the broken citiescrowding debt, unhappiness.I see families un-affordable, single parents struggling; .I see the children no longer able to afford the big housesand the old ones abandon the homestead, and crowd back to the cities.The young ones can't find work; its five to a house..The Americans, the British, the Italiansthe Russians, all of Western Europecan notduplicate themselves and they perish replaced by the poor ones from the Southand the East.All the world comes together to confront Destiny.Whither the Planet? But hope there is: There will be in Americarepatriation of the rural lands; the abandonment of the citesand massive building of rural technology-based enclaves; smart technology driven, green based and self sufficient.America's salvation there.Economies will move toward barter exchangebecause currency will fail, replaced by new systems and gains in efficiencyGovernment will devolve to less control less bureaucracy; more local controlweak confederations instead.The village life returns.Crafts replace portions of profit-based technology.Old skills of self-sufficiency revive.Nation states are weakened, and cross-national enclaves emergewhere ideas cross boundaries.Real democracy will thrive in smaller settings.This will bewhether there is disasteror planning for this.Disaster will give us small enclavesbut bands of mauradersand bandit bandswho leave the citeswhen the five day supply of food gives out; their enclaves are forced and violent.The better way is the one I describe.In your life-time son 40 years hencethis will bebut which future.will it be?","Lonnie Hicks"
7051,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7051,"2018-02-27 13:30:12","To America poem","How would you have us, as we are?Or sinking 'neath the load we bear?Our eyes fixed forward on a star?Or gazing empty at despair?Rising or falling? Men or things?With dragging pace or footsteps fleet?Strong, willing sinews in your wings?Or tightening chains about your feet?","James Weldon Johnson"
7052,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7052,"2018-02-27 13:30:15","We Cannot-America Votes poem","In Americawe are about to voteon what is to be our political Soul; Will America finally become reconciled toand surpass our pastmove through and beyond20th century capitalism? whether generations can meetin between; whether granddad's view of the past; his dislikes and loyalties predominate; or whether the grandchildren willsay: 'I know granddad what you thinkbut I just don't think about it that way.'In every town and hamletevery suburb and citythe lines formand the hearts voteto expresswhat each soul believesabout what is the best for all of us.What is Best America? Or is it what is the best Americafor me? This is not the fork in the road; this is the new road. This is no disagreement; it is a different brain thinking. All the world is becoming joined.All the world nowcommon crisis bound; wonderingwhether to cling to wallet issuesor the ideologue; whether to accept change orstay with the comfortable and the known; whether to continence me and mineor change toor joinwith those different than me, those who march awayfollowing that signear-marked 'the future times.' Demographics plus luckdetermines all our fates; How much progress is it to destroy the planetfor false security and baubles? What is good a computer which poisons the soil? What price the comforts we craveas we resistthe obvious; which is we must re-learn simpler ways.And we can.Yes, we can.We cannot afford tocan notor not can.","Lonnie Hicks"
7053,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7053,"2018-02-27 13:30:22","Birdwatchers Of America poem","It’s all very well to dream of a dove that saves, Picasso’s or the Pope’s, The one that annually coos in Our Lady’s ear Half the world’s hopes, And the other one that shall cunningly engineer The retirement of all businessmen to their graves, And when this is brought about Make us the loving brothers of every lout— But in our part of the country a false dusk Lingers for hours; it steams From the soaked hay, wades in the cloudy woods, Engendering other dreams. Formless and soft beyond the fence it broods Or rises as a faint and rotten musk Out of a broken stalk. There are some things of which we seldom talk; For instance, the woman next door, whom we hear at night, Claims that when she was small She found a man stone dead near the cedar trees After the first snowfall. The air was clear. He seemed in ultimate peace Except that he had no eyes. Rigid and bright Upon the forehead, furred With a light frost, crouched an outrageous bird.","Anthony Evan Hecht"
7054,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7054,"2018-02-27 13:30:26","Being Black In America poem","Life is coldLife is shadyIma Black in america still getting treated like a second habd citizenLife is so unfairMy flow is never heard Never feltCause i am black in americaI study keeping flowing creating stylescause I cant stick with one style But LIFE IS COLDAmerica still wont let me be happyuntil they beat me mentally call me names make me feel bad for being blackI am just going offLIfe is shadyIma donewith this","Grayson Givens"
7055,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7055,"2018-02-27 13:30:31","America - Ellis Island poem","In days of long ago, how did Europeans enter America? I read the history and now I know.They arrived at Ellis Islandat the mouth of the Hudson Riveroften on a sunny day, but sometimesthey would shiver.The Island was given a second name...'Isle of Tears' as when immigrantsfailed the acceptance test, theycried away their fears. But millionsof hopefuls were invited to set footin America, to live out their dreamsand fantasies forever and a day, thankful for the gift which broughtsuccess their way.Beginning of the eighteenth centuryBritain's Samuel Ellis gave his namebringing more interest and immigrantsto an Island of prosperity and fame.Mothers and fathers came with children, I mention just a few... Irving Berlin, Claudette Colbert, Sam Goldwyn, Bob Hope, Al Johnson ~ and many more, finding success through Ellis Island door.Note: The Ellis Island is not used now, having been declared a Natonal HistoricSite in 1965 by Johnson.","Joyce Hemsley"
7056,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7056,"2018-02-27 13:30:38","America Lives (Written At Age 14) poem","America lives, For you and for me, With all she can give, On land and on sea.She has a grand flag of red white and blue, She has her storms her droughts and her showersShe isn’t very old, in fact she’s quite new, She’s even one of the world great powers.We have been in many wars, yes so many, Yet all through this America thrives, Then in the end, we can give not a penny, Yet we fight on and give up our lives.Our lives that we love so dear, we give, Just so that our great country, America, Can, and does live.","Sandra Osborne"
7057,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7057,"2018-02-27 13:30:43","America, My America poem","America, my America land of liberty, what can you say has happened to thee? Can you still say with pridejust how you feel? Or is the pride overcan you hear the eagle's squeal? You fought hard for freedombut you stole freedom too.You stole it from the red manmany years ago.You stole it from the black manwhose back was bent down low.Your sons and daughters of which I am oneare wondering now where's the sun? It still shines, but not quite as bright.The Lady in the harbor cries silently in the night.I think you were an experimentdesigned to take a fall.America, my Americayou're not standing quite as tall.Another day is over.We are deeper in debt.Your main street is floodinglike Katrina, all wet.And so it is with sadnessI awaken every mornand am filled with remorsethat the place where I was bornis not America, a land of liberty.It's just another country with a false reality.","Edwina Reizer"
7058,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7058,"2018-02-27 13:30:47","I Know A Dream Called America poem","I know a dream called America - That led to freedom - our precious - freedom. That was won - That was won - through - loneliness - hunger - blood- Sweat - and tears. By your christian forefathers - who Fought on with determination - through The night - and through the day - till The war was won. In the cold - cold - winter snow of Seventeen-Seventy-Six - that won us our freedom. Happy birthday America to everyone Say a prayer for your country - everyone - Give a helping hand - everyone - for the Cause of freedom - everyone - let no one take your freedom from this land - for It is our hope - and our passport everyone - And our golden gate - to the promised land - Where our almighty God abides. - Happy birthday America - to everyone - May we share - many many more. I know a dream called America - That lead to Freedom - our precious Freedom. That was won - that was won - Through loneliness - and hunger - blood - Sweat - and tears Happy birthday America - to everyone - Say a prayer for your country - everyone - Give a helping hand - everyone - for the Cause of Freedom from this land - for it's Our hope - and your passport - everyone - and Our golden gate - to the promised land - Where Almighty God - abides.","Theresa M. Leicht"
7059,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7059,"2018-02-27 13:30:51","Attack On America poem","Another beautiful day i thought as i arose from bed that day, Not ever knowing things could turn out this distructive way.As i entered the building with a smile on my face, And i greeted the friends I, ve made in this place, A glance at my watch made me quicken my pace.Up in the elevator to floor 101, My thoughts turned to pre - school & that of my son.Grabbed a quick cuppa & settled at my desk, File all the paperwork then tackle the rest.All of a sudden without warning at all, The whole building trembled & things began to fall.At first we thought earth quake - get out fast, But a look out the window confirmed a huge blast.Something had crashed into the building we share, With thousands of others - how would we fare? We all started to panic, we screamed & yelled, We knew this was bad & onto each other we held.I grabbed my cell phone & dialed my love, I asked him to pray to God above.I asked him to kiss my little son, And tell him his mummy, s number one.People were jumping & taking thier lives, We all knew we would never get out of here alive.I got down on the floor & covered my face, I didnt want to see what was about to take place.Next thing i knew i was falling through concrete & steel, This must be a nightmare, it just cant be real.God how could they find me in all of this mess, So many people - all in distress.I, m feeling very tired, i ache & i bleed, Im trapped in a concrete jungleCan you not hear my plea, s.I know feel peaceful, im drifting off to sleep, Pray for the others with the tears you weep.God bless America, my home sweet home, Open up the stairway God -This angel is commimg home...","HELEN.J WILLIAMS"
7060,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7060,"2018-02-27 13:30:55","(056) America poem","Waxing Bodies, Waning Minds, Dried up Souls, Ha...America!","premji premji"
7061,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7061,"2018-02-27 13:31:01","England And America poem","1. ON A RHINE STEAMER. Republic of the West, Enlightened, free, sublime,Unquestionably bestProduction of our time.The telephone is thine,And thine the Pullman Car,The caucus, the divineIntense electric star.To thee we likewise oweThe venerable namesOf Edgar Allan Poe,And Mr. Henry James.In short it's due to thee,Thou kind of Western star,That we have come to bePrecisely what we are.But every now and then,It cannot be denied,You breed a kind of menWho are not dignified,Or courteous or refined,Benevolent or wise,Or gifted with a mindBeyond the common size,Or notable for tact,Agreeable to me,Or anything, in fact,That people ought to be.2. ON A PARISIAN BOULEVARD. Britannia rules the waves,As I have heard her say;She frees whatever slavesShe meets upon her way.A teeming mother sheOf Parliaments and Laws;Majestic, mighty, free:Devoid of common flaws.For here did Shakspere writeHis admirable plays:For her did Nelson fightAnd Wolseley win his bays.Her sturdy common senseIs based on solid grounds:By saving numerous penceShe spends effective pounds.The Saxon and the CeltShe equitably rules;Her iron rod is feltBy countless knaves and fools.In fact, mankind at large,Black, yellow, white and red,Is given to her in charge,And owns her as a head.But every here and there--Deny it if you can--She breeds a vacant stareUnworthy of a man:A look of dull surprise;A nerveless idle hand:An eye which never triesTo threaten or command:In short, a kind of man,If man indeed he be,As worthy of our banAs any that we see:Unspeakably obtuse,Abominably vain,Of very little use,And execrably plain.","James Kenneth Stephen"
7062,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7062,"2018-02-27 13:31:04","The Emigrant’s Address To America poem","All hail to thee, noble and generous Land!With thy prairies boundless and wide,Thy mountains that tower like sentinels grand,Thy lakes and thy rivers of pride! Thy forests that hide in their dim haunted shadesNew flowers of loveliness rare—Thy fairy like dells and thy bright golden glades,Thy warm skies as Italy’s fair. Here Plenty has lovingly smiled on the soil,And ’neath her sweet, merciful reignThe brave and long suff’ring children of toilNeed labor no longer in vain. I ask of thee shelter from lawless harm,Food—raiment—and promise thee now,In return, the toil of a stalwart arm,And the sweat of an honest brow. But think not, I pray, that this heart is bereftOf fond recollections of home;That I e’er can forget the dear land I have leftIn the new one to which I have come. Oh no! far away in my own sunny isleIs a spot my affection worth,And though dear are the scenes that around me now smile,More dear is the place of my birth! There hedges of hawthorn scent the sweet air,And, thick as the stars of the night,The daisy and primrose, with flow’rets as fair,Gem that soil of soft verdurous light. And there points the spire of my own village church,That long has braved time’s iron power,With its bright glitt’ring cross and ivy wreathed porch—Sure refuge in sorrow’s dark hour! Whilst memory lasts think not e’er from this breastCan pass the fond thoughts of my home:No! I ne’er can forget the land I have leftIn the new one to which I have come!","Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon"
7063,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7063,"2018-02-27 13:31:05","In Praise Of America poem","America is the answerTo all of life's problemsAmerica, the home of freedomAnd self actualization.The world revers America, Paragon of beauty, Epitome of pride; I love AmericaHopeful home, Benevolent barn.","samuel nze"
7064,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7064,"2018-02-27 13:31:11","To The United States Of America poem","Brothers in blood! They who this wrong began To wreck our commonwealth, will rue the day When first they challenged freeman to the fray, And with the Briton dared the American. Now are we pledged to win the Rights of man: Labour and Justice now shall have their way, And in a League of Peace -- God grant we may -- Transform the earth, not patch up the old plan. Sure is our hope since he who led your nation Spake for mankind, and ye arose in awe Of that high call to work the world's salvation; Clearing your minds of all estrangling blindness In the vision of Beauty and the Spirit's law, Freedom and Honour and sweet Lovingkindness.","Robert Seymour Bridges"
7065,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7065,"2018-02-27 13:31:17","Wake Up America poem","Wake up America, Why can’t you see, An evil is pursuing both you and me, We must wake up, I issue this plea, Nations are falling, for all to see.To conquer the world, is evils desire, To take away freedoms, for all they acquire, Not only for us, but their own they require, To control your life, is their desire.Wake up America, not later but now, Religion is used, as their golden plow, To take your freedoms, to make you bow, The freedom that’s yours, they will not allowA religion of many, it’s theirs to choose, A right that’s fair which they should not loose, The right to worship, but not to excuse, A terrorist action and a religion they misuse Wake up America, before it’s too late, For one’s you love, and children’s fate, To choose your life, you cannot abate, For the sword is thrust, At America’s fate.","B.J. Ayers"
7066,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7066,"2018-02-27 13:31:19","America 2009 poem","America has traded in his MercedesFor a beat up, General Motors car.It has a fender and door of different colors.It leaks water, burns oil and won’t go far.America is standing at unemployment, all morning, just to see the clerk.Diligently, he pursues positions, along with millions looking for work.America is loading up a U-haul.His wife and kids are moving to their aunt’s.A sign in the yard says “For Sale - Bank Owned”.When he bought it, he didn’t stand a chance.America is standing at an off ramp, wearing jeans he bought at Goodwill, a cardboard sign saying “Help my Family”, collecting dollars from passing automobiles.","John Lyday"
7067,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7067,"2018-02-27 13:31:23","America Is In Intensive Care poem","America Is In Intensive Care……., It’s just clinging to life……, And its chances are slim and rare……, Of coming out of the evil in there….., Looks like it might wind down……, To that ‘two thousand twelve year’……., The year so many psychics have predicted…….., And we all gravely fear……, Still I doubt they’ll be a chance for more……, The Mayans warned of this doomsday……., Thousands of years before……., Along with Nostradamus and the BibleAnd though it may be a stretch…….., Don’t forget the Pulitzer Prize winning, Al Gore……! ! ! So where do you think you’ll be……, When this final devastating event….., iSignals the absolute end……, Of America, our planet and all humankind……, As we know it, at the time….? ? ? For it’s been warned that death and destruction……, Will be the only remains on the Earth……., Distant alien civilizations may eventually find …! ! ! Kind of scary, isn’t it…..? ? ? (I’m actually too optimistic to believe this or let it worry me……! ! !)","Trade Martin"
7068,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7068,"2018-02-27 13:31:30","##44 (Vivekananda) Religion In America poem","Freedom, equality and justiceHad been the most valuable treasuresCherished in the American heartsAnd were the basis of their politics.Religion also played its vital role, Well among the American people, But more than the spiritual progress, Material value occupied the first place.The reason was, the tremendousProgress in technology and science, That increased their prospectsBesides their rich life styles.To give America a religious flavor, Efforts were made thereafter.As in the Parliament of Religion, A forum to study all religions.This forum gave a chanceFor every religion to placeTheir best religious practicesBefore the learned audience.Vivekananda scored high marksIn this evaluation processTo the credit of the Hindus, With his thundering lectures.He kept America in high esteemFor having extended this forumTo all the world religionsIn the name of Parliament of Religions.This forum proved that the successOf technology and scienceResponsible for material prosperity, Couldn’t destroy any spiritual activity.The result was, a closer contactBetween the East and the WestOn the material platformAs well as in the spiritual forum.In the eyes of AmericaThe prestige of IndiaShot up by leaps and boundsOnly after Swamiji’s lectures.","Rajaram Ramachandran"
7069,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7069,"2018-02-27 13:31:34","America My Country poem","It's great to live in a country big and strong It doesn't matter if you are young or old Our thoughts are as good as gold Where we go on land or sea We can always be happy and free Free to express our thoughts and then Even express them over again To different people no matter what color or race In America for them there is always a place To make a home For their families to roam The fields; the woods. The countryside Especially the young man and his bride For seniors and teens In formals or jeans Who ever it may be Remember we can always be free Just like a bird chirping, singing happily. Like chipmunks in the wood Calling to his mate and being good. Good to his family And Grandpa talking to his Emily Pondering over ideas and thoughts galore And, off to bed and listen to him snore Taken up in the morning early light Whenever it is nice and bright In America where we are always free Where in New York Harbor stands the Statue of Liberty Her hand raised high toward the sky Where our planes in freedom fly Where all of us want to be America for you and me Liberty and freedom will never end I'll get down on both my knees and bend To thank God I am an American In a country great and grand Who wants to be anywhere else Except in America where we can do so much expand America will always be my land.","Florence D. Schmalke"
7070,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7070,"2018-02-27 13:31:40","America Is poem","America is red, white, and blue, the colors that stand so brave, and true. Men in battle facing death, Men in the world provoking crime, and theft. America stand up on your feet, Hold proudly out the flag, tenderly, and sweet. America is home of the true, Of people at peace like me, and you. Red is for the blood in battle we do shed, white is for the peace we all share, But sometimes we seldom even care. Blue is for the sky where our fathers have gone, and stayed, Watching us as we fight for peace both night, and day.","Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson"
7071,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7071,"2018-02-27 13:31:43","America Sings poem","Well I tried to make it sunday, but I got so damn depressedThat I set my sights on monday and I got myself undressedI ain’t ready for the altar but I do agree there’s timesWhen a woman sure can be a friend of mineWell, I keep on thinkin’ ’bout you, sister golden hair surpriseAnd I just can’t live without you; can’t you see it in my eyes? I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to findBut it doesn’t mean you ain’t been on my mindWill you meet me in the middle, will you meet me in the air? Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care? Well I tried to fake it, I don’t mind sayin’, I just can’t make itWell, I keep on thinkin’ ’bout you, sister golden hair surpriseAnd I just can’t live without you; can’t you see it in my eyes? Now I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to findBut it doesn’t mean you ain’t been on my mindWill you meet me in the middle, will you meet me in the air? Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care? Well I tried to fake it, I don’t mind sayin’, I just can’t make it","steve ray"
7072,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7072,"2018-02-27 13:31:47","Crossroads Of America poem","Crossroads of this brave New World: tiring - perhaps no longer youngBig city, rural city? central point -refreshing - this nation's innovative bellycity of indigenous America, cosmopolitanreflective - luminescent in waning lighthopeful in the new day dawning brightstill movement, raucous plains of cropGridded out on one mile squaresoldiers and sailors commemoratemidpoint triumph at Monument Circleno governor on this spot will resideinterstates intersect downtown - out of town; glass-domed rotunda docile suspensionschampions cheer in the hall of White Riverfast paced spin abouts at the Motor SpeedwayTo the eye of tourist local or overseas- dimming star spangled glory revivedmidway between coast to coast she layWho is there? Indianapolis, city fair.","Frederick Kesner"
7073,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7073,"2018-02-27 13:31:53","America, Europe And Asia poem","America, Europe and Asia are continents; The first two interfere devastatingly in the third one's affairs; Historical accidents helped Traders turning to colonizers by interfering with Machiavellian tactics In the local political matters of Asian nationsAnd settling as ‘rulers'Being helped by egoistic and inefficient native rulers, gun powder and canons; Europe waged two world warsDrawing every nation into the conflicts and destruction; America dominated world scene after II world warCold war divided Europe and the world into two camps, capitalist and communist; Non-aligned nations were dubbed as developing or underdevelopedWere laughed at for their sense of independence; Heroes, heroines and villains are made Depending on whether you are for CIA or for KGB, Whole globe was converted into espionage see-saw; Europe and AmericaFacilitated the division of India, China, Korea, Vietnam, YemenUsing religion and ideology as sharp knives, Finally Israel was hoisted on Palestine; The fires thus started are still claiming many livesDepriving the concerned nations of peace and well-being; America and Europe practice and ‘preach' democracy; On the other handDo not hesitate to side dictators to suit foreign policy and diplomacy; The same dictator of Mesopotamia, pampered, cultivated and encouragedTo wage war with his neighboring nation in the eightiesSuddenly becomes accumulator of weapons of mass destruction; False reports would be created and he would be hounded and executedUnder the pretext of war on terror and also to protect and install democracy there, The real interest being to have free access to vast oil reserves available there; Taliban is created with an ally to fight communists now becomesTerrorists and are fought with the ‘help' of same ally against ‘terror'; Billions and billions of dollars are being spent to fight and eliminate their own creationsWhat a fine diplomacy and colossal waste of money? ! America and Europe allowed terrorist organizations against Asian nationsTo flourish on their soils as ‘freedom movements' And gave asylum to many such in the name of protecting human rightsAnd allowed to collect funds for their ‘causes'; But 9/11 and 7/7 changed all that pampering and perception of ‘freedom movements', And ‘liberal' attitude towards terrorists turned into fight against terrorism; Rudely awakened the richest country And its closest ally, the most successful colonizer and alter ego, To the realities of terrorist attacks and terrorism; Immediately wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are started to save America and Europe From Osama bin laden and the Al-QaedaDespite their bitter experiences in Vietnam and Palestine; Might be lives of citizens of ‘rich' nations are dearer and more valuable; Hundreds of Asians have been getting killed daily and casualties to the redeemers too are mountingAdvocates of free society got caught in quagmire of their own creation; Champions of human rights allowed rendition flights to land and refuel in their airportsRan torture chambers in Guantanamo Bay; If drones kill Taliban and innocent citizens daily, it is war on terror, If an Asian air force bombs its terroristsIt is violation of human rights; These very developed and civilized nations frisk travelers to their country based on their name, Arrest and keep in detention without trial under draconian laws specially enacted, Arrogantly complain that Asian countries are discriminating against their minorityAnd dub them as poor in maintaining human rights record; Desire to be global instructor, human-rights' watcher, world police etc., can be understoodBut the headmaster mentality of these two continents treating rest of the worldAs their students is too much; It is high time the 'rich' nations sign Kyoto protocolAnd Europe does not put sanctions on free world tradeTo protect the interests of nations of European Union; Let the consumerist culture which plunged the world into worstEconomical disaster and depression not be spread; Let the Asian nations maintain themselves based on their respective cultures and civilizations; Nations where civilizations ancient flourished When America and Europe were uninhabited wild forests, Need not be instructed by starters of world warsAnd droppers of atomic bombs; Let charity begin at home; Hurricane Katrina rehabilitation and Health Care Insurance imbroglioTeen-age abortions and disturbed family relations Tells the world about their abilities to take care of their citizens; Let us all live in peace as equals; Let the head masters leave the ‘pupils' to mend and manage themselvesWhere their ancient civilizations are still aliveAnd can guide the world as a whole towards peace and prosperity in the real sense","Varanasi Ramabrahmam"
7074,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7074,"2018-02-27 13:31:58","Its America You Fool poem","Baby boomers were cool; Now Ninjas rule.It’s America you fool.Junk food; Was cool dude. Only joys no sorrow; They consumed as if; no tomorrow.Sub standard education; In their social school.Still; Its America you fool.Dubya's wars; Permanent scars.Russia's gone; Iraq stumped.Against tough times; Their economy bumped.Its size aint miniscule; It’s America you fool.Big bangs; Use of slangs.Moral falls; Haughty attitudes.Roller coaster ride; Changing vicissitudes.On the top once; Now at bottom they drool; It’s America you fool.. No future in sight; The corner's tight.Their world’s dark; Ours is bright.They live on hopes; Under Obama's rule; Its America you fool.Who knows from here; Where they go? The world debates the rates; By which they shall grow.Once fast; now very slow; Shall they go.Swelling debt, soaring crime; Rest taken care by Subprime.America aint no longer cool; Its economics u fool.Hybernate they shall, as I can see; As there's no lunch that comes free.An economy so agile; Shall stay now low profile.Till they rise and rise again; After alleviation of their domestic painHope and hope surely he brings; After the fall as spring springs.As he takes on the reigns today; He knows the challenges that waylay.New ties and new friends; Hope with him the hostility ends; Hope millions of hearts, he does rule; It’s Obama, not bush u fool. From the lectern; As he speaks.The floor under him firmly creaks; Shake off the dust; He says.Expose yourself; To sun's rays.To work hard; To save more; So that one day; America may again gleam.With him he brings; A new American dream.","Nikunj Sharma"
7075,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7075,"2018-02-27 13:32:02","......................1-1-1 China Sectio.. poem","China- section- eight as America! China section eight is army home.All committed are ill at houses to whom.Views on ways are all as congress conga.Leaders’ cons are all to make the crones.Female sheep the herbs are sexes to eat.Lucks at guesses are all for going at.Sheep in males will drink the shower gold.Shoulder come and bloods are both so cold.Clouds to teach are Maoism giving girl.Snows and winds are met but wrong with YMIR.Lands of young have Maoism mad and old.YOICKS my hounds will get the Maoism wolves.---Cheung Shun Sang=Cauchy3---","cheung shun sang"
7076,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7076,"2018-02-27 13:32:06","Before Dawn In America poem","Slowly the hours beyond the midnight crawl.Far on the frozen night a train goes by.I know there is no starlight in the sky,But that concealing fog is over all,Alike for stars and men a somber pall.Remoter now, a cold, mechanic cryIs signal, and the poplars stir and sigh,As ranks that wait in vain the trumpet's call.Now breaks the day on Belgium and France.Over the shoulder of the world, I knowWhat rubrics gleam on the recording snow(That page of Heaven's book that lay so pure!)As, votive to the race's huge mischance,Men die, O Liberty! that thou endure.","George Sterling"
7077,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7077,"2018-02-27 13:32:10","America The Beautiful poem","America The BeautifulThat what the song saysThose words ring loud and trueEvery day that I’m aliveI see those words before my eyesAnywhere I chance to lookIn my heart this land will stayAmerica The BeautifulOpen meadows clear blue skiesHills all covered greenI have been so many placesThere’s much that I have seenAmerica The BeautifulThat’s what the song saysAmerica The BeautifulWill remain my home sweet homeIf for some unknown reasonYou’re unhappy with this landYou can always feel free to leaveBut in a freer country you’ll never stand9-20-77/RJH© 8-14-10/RJH","Ray Hansell"
7078,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7078,"2018-02-27 13:32:15","The President Of The United States Of Am.. poem","W orld renowned political figure I ntellectual person, a vigorous leader L eadership is the key to your success L oving, caring, generous, a religious man I ndustrious, incredibly lucky, great ability, a glorious victory A lways a devoted man to your family and country M an with guts, your dreams came true J ust only a man of integrity can make this nation great again E nergetic, excellent achievements, a successful President F reedom-fighter, man of the masses, pride of the west F ormer youngest Governor in America, 1978, of Little Rock, Arkansas, a familiar figure in the political community E ternal lover, husband, First Lady Madam Hillary Rodham Clinton, Chelsea, charming daughter R esourceful, reserved, a dignified man S axophonist, a talented, handsome musician, son of a humble mother, Virginia, a nurse O nly a man like you can make America safe and a beautiful place to live in N oble, magnificent, wonderful human being C ommander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of the United States, the most powerful nation in the world L oyalty to your native land, may God bless you I nspiration of the younger generations N othing is impossible for a man of high caliber like you T oday, tomorrow and forever, your name, one of the great men in history O utgoing personality, open and accessible, one of the most extraordinary persons in American history N ever to forget a gentleman, trustworthy, with a Christian heart.","Leonides S. Sales"
7079,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7079,"2018-02-27 13:32:18","America poem","* I am not racist at all**This is how i feel about america**No disrespect to no body*They call me second classput chains on me mentallyAmerica has treated me like a slave can't even LOVE her cause she is WHITEthey hate OUR president because he is BLACKmy own race is like crab in a barrel mentallywhen one of us gets a taste of success the others get jelous envy and pull the successful crab down so it can never leaveAmerica has put this imagethat girls gotta be skinny to love size two to be sexygot these girls hating themselvesfor who they areAmerica has also mademy race look dumb, ignorant, gangsta, never going to make it and down usBUT LOOK we got a black president and they dogging himWhite boys wanna be down with bangersbe black nowAmerica has raped usof our rightsThe white male has seprated my race putting us in catergories house n field slavesAmerica robbed us blindI just simply wanna be happy with this girlbut America isnt going tobecause they are cold closed minded and in my opinionscared","Grayson Givens"
7080,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7080,"2018-02-27 13:32:23","America Is Still Shining poem","As I looked out the windowbirds soar across the sky, O how I envy their freedom, their realm ever so high.I remembered America's liberty, and how this country began, when settlers came and starteda new life with their clan.And now, so many many years later, this world a dark place.But America is still shining, with all it has to face.","Miranda Sss"
7081,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7081,"2018-02-27 13:32:26","A Prayer For America poem","I said prayer for you todayI hope you didn't mindI asked God to comfort youAnd put you tears behindI prayed for peace and mercy tooTo help you through these daysAnd for his loving guidance.As he leads you on your wayYou need not walk this path aloneJust turn around you’ll seeYou have families and friendsTo help make your pain easeI prayed for miraclesAnd hope and happiness And also asked to bless you... When you are so stressedI said prayer for you todayI hope you didn't mindI just wanted to make sureAs I knelt down to prayPlease god, bless us AmericaWatch over and keep us strong","Pookey's Poems"
7082,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7082,"2018-02-27 13:32:29","America poem","America! God gave you broadful landings Designated mountains, valleys, tropics. With measures of shady green pastures To keep the Promised Land, Showing. America! God gave you beautiful children Different races, ethnicities, cultures. With mixtures of created colors To keep the Melting Pot, pouring. America! God gave you bountiful harvests Delicate barley, whole wheat, grain. With multiple rows of healthy sheaves To keep the Milk and Honey, Flowing. America! God gave you blessedful knowledge Diligent progress in technology. With marketings of highest risings To keep the American Dream, Growing. America! God made you the glory of all lands Which HE searched out in pleasure. Filled with insight into things unseen To keep the Crown of Life, Glowing.","Jean Lomax-Jackson"
7083,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7083,"2018-02-27 13:32:33","Black Man In America poem","Black Man In America for to long our chains held us so tight beaten down as far as the dust chained to the nightBlack Man In America can't you see we free now at least physicallybut freedom isn't free if we still enslaved mentallyBlack Man In America stand up and let your voices be heard your families are calling you because they don't deserve to be deserted or mistreatedlet us be stronger than they because the greatest retalation is providing a successful wayfor your black babies and mine to have a brighter daythey are calling out to you heed their cry and respond favorably to them saying here am IBlack Man In America we must continue to wage this fight and let our hands be strong and our fingers do the fightin'Black Man In America a success you must become because without success our freedom wasn't really wonBlack Man In America stand up and be heard its imperative for you to provide the light for a brighter day that your children so richly deserveBlack Man In America","julius thomas"
7084,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7084,"2018-02-27 13:32:39","America The Melting Pot Land poem","Their fruits proud and confident with their knowledge of modern technology but, historically sleeping. For some call America ""The Heaven on Earth."" This simply means, ""As there are many different ways of dying to go to heaven and so there are many different ways of entering the United States of America. Since there are no differences in heaven between those who died by road accidents and those who died in the Titanic, And so there are no differences in America between their fruits, those with U.S. visas, those in stowaway ships, those jumping over the fence or even bush roads. like heaven or one like America."" For some call America ""The Land of Dreams."" But in their restless sleep with only one hour to sleep and go back to work, their nightmare dreams are ""evictions, Insurance Bills, Car notes, Tax bills, a dream no longer at ease - ""The Bills."" Yet some call America ""The Land of Opportunities."" Indeed what wonderful opportunities in the K.F.C. restaurants, Roy Rogers, Wendy's, McDonald's, the Great Merrymaids Cleaning Companies. And what a smile the CVS drug store has for selling Bengay Balsam, oops sleeping on a backache the next morning, a smile and everything is fine. As a poet I am reminding their historically sleeping fruits that this land, this beloved country, this portion of God's created earth, ""America the Melting Pot Land."" America the melting pot land is the only land on Earth folks flung and scattered from all over the world with different backgrounds, colors, races, and languages and melted, and blended, themselves never to be recognized. Although sometimes their zig zag tongues make their fruits ask them - Where are you from? - In this melting pot land ""America,"" only God could save their proud fruits with whom they melted and blended. Thus violence has no color or race in this melting pot land. I counted my blessing as ninth grade school drop out to be melting and blending myself with intellectual poets in this melting pot land, ""The United States of America.""","Binta Bundu"
7085,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7085,"2018-02-27 13:32:42","America, America! poem","You have fought for freedom, Marched many battles against Slavery, hate and divisions But you have reached the mountainof truth of the innate equality of all. You are a country of native dreamers, immigrants and welcomed strangers, upholding freedom and democracy for all. You look at your freedom much relatedto the freedom of others; hence you take part in the global act for liberation. But today's presidential election shakes the very foundation of your Statue of Liberty when building walls against the othersis mouthed as slogan and goal; when assaults on womenare highlighted and accepted. When insults and bullies reverberatein microphones and conspiracy theoriescondition the mind to accept only successand not defeat; when greatness of a country is measured by mega success in wealth, power and own self protection; When truth is difficult to findin files of lies and from hearts that hate. ______________________________October 17,2016,22 days before US election","Elizabeth Padillo Olesen"
7086,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7086,"2018-02-27 13:32:46","America Won'T poem","America won'tBe the same anymoreBecause they are fightingIn the Afghanistan War","Aldo Kraas"
7087,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7087,"2018-02-27 13:32:49","The Game Players Of America poem","The game players of America, Are first bred in our neighborhoods.They are conditioned to be gangsters, Crooks and hoodlums.And put on trial for their criminal denials.The game players of America, Are taught to deceive, lie and cheat.Hussel stolen goods on urban streets.Go to some church to pray and sing.And on Wednesdays study Bible verse...To enable them to be forgiven, For the sins upon themselves they bring.The game players of America, Are part Hollywood mixed with truth.Part naïve, innocent and uncouth.And mentally driven to anything falsified that shines.Conditioned with materialistic mindsets.And quick to claim what is theirs...With a factor that begins, With a carelessness most times.The game players of America, Can be said to be thoughtless, rude and self indulgent.But if they are not into the game to win...Losing for them, Becomes a taxpayers involvement.And high are taxes found, In cities or towns...Where they are not known to go down! Like the blood that's shed and spread on the ground.However...Rose colored glasses, Are on the eyes of everyone.Distributed free at birth! And religiously worn.Whether folks are conducting daily business...Or hiding behind them hypocritically in some church!","Lawrence S. Pertillar"
7088,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7088,"2018-02-27 13:32:52","America The Beautiful As A Second Language poem","Who are these immigrants who mow all of this grass in the medium strips and along the roadsides; areas that pedestrians don’t use. Whose job is it to fertilize and maintain this acreage; to kill the clover and dandelion that constantly flowers. Why is it necessary to beautify the tedious routes we take to and fro; the ones paved over as a short cut between points A and B.What about XYZ? ; out where expelled tire treads litter the road and where a gallon of gas is not enough to get you home…Who are these immigrants who come here to mow America's lawn? 2008 © TS","Ted Sheridan"
7089,2,"2018-02-27 03:06:49",america,7089,"2018-02-27 13:32:54","The Fall Of America poem","McCain, McCain, you are running in vain! And you are in this national drama, how hillariously (!) funny and a little insane, cheer the pigmented warrior Obama.In the background old Bill, who is over the hilllusts to get a new student like 'winsky, with a Cuban cigar and a muffin to filllike a film by director Klaus Kinski.And I say, take the lot and fly up to the moonblast the gangsters into smithereens, we don't need here on earth, a demented baboon nor a humper who's searching for queens.Let the first who has cast his own spell on the landbe the chief and commander for allit won't matter a bit as we do understandvery soon this great country will fall.","Herbert Nehrlich"
99,3,"2018-02-27 03:06:53",angel,99,"2018-02-27 03:39:19","The Angel poem","I dreamt a dream! What can it mean? And that I was a maiden Queen Guarded by an Angel mild: Witless woe was ne'er beguiled! And I wept both night and day, And he wiped my tears away; And I wept both day and night, And hid from him my heart's delight. So he took his wings, and fled; Then the morn blushed rosy red. I dried my tears, and armed my fears With ten-thousand shields and spears. Soon my Angel came again; I was armed, he came in vain; For the time of youth was fled, And grey hairs were on my head.","William Blake"