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Quotes about swoop, page 11

Red Bull

I take my index finger and thumb
To hold the tab
And I flip it,
Depressing it
Into the tin-plated membrane
Of a lid.
The brief sound of crunching metal emits—
Like the sound of a second long
Car crash or aerial collision,
Maybe an airplane's wing ripping off
Into the azure emptiness of the peaceful sky—
And then a miniscule mushroom cloud
Puffs out, a carbonated explosion
Blasting on impact,
Terminating all the bacterial life
That used to hover in the air.
I grab the can in my hand,
Firmly, but casually too,
And I tilt my wrist back—
The lid pressed to my lips—

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Free

Joy! Free, at last, from vulgar thrall:
No longer need my voice be dumb;
And quicker far than thou canst call,
O Italy, I come!

To feel me the adopted heir
Of Art and Nature wed and blent,
In days of trouble routed care;
In these will bring content.

To know the world is not a mart,
The soul a lackey, life a shame,
Will scare the past, allay its smart,
Almost annul the blame.

Away with all these makeshift toys,
Provisional for heart and sense,
Which kept a useful equipoise
'Gainst sheer indifference!

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Potato Bug Exterminators

During the summer of 1883 we were walking along past a large field of
potatoes in North Oxford, where we beheld the strange spectacle of a
pair of bipeds drilling their offspring to march up one potato row and
down the other, so as to annihilate the enemy, who had assembled in
vast armies, dressed in yellow garments, and who were committing
fearful depredations on the fruits of the husbandmen, until the valuable
auxilliary forces rushed to the rescue of the farmer, o'erwhelming the
enemy and with one fell swoop, bringing on them consternation and
ruin dire. It appears that the foe, or their progenitors,
had been citizens of Colordo in the far West. And that,
having conquered all before them, they sought another
World to conquer here.

When we do trace out nature's laws,
And view effects, and muse on cause,
For the future there's great hope
If we our eyes do only ope.
With joy they will often glisten,
If to truth one doth but listen ;
But people often turn deaf ear

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Enemy Made By Love

A victim of my own mistakes. I got to stop letting people in. Block all out for eternity. It has been a bloody and brutal war. Destroying friend after friend. All so i feel nothing. So antisocial, so emotional. They will never understand. I have been branded. Labeled and threw into a story so fabled. And i cant do it. Never again. If its a conquest i cant win. Why bother. Why hurt another. Im not a brother. Reasonably insane is my name. Crazy as they come. No I'm not dumb. No I'm not on the run. No I'm not looking for fun. Just want to be left alone. I want to each their own. Friend or foe doesn't matter you still must go. We will step on each others toes. And i know it hurts as i say no. But the pain will wane, dissipate, and disappear. You changed things. You made me have to hate you. An enemy of love. Protection from above. Ive lost everything i ever wanted in one fell swoop. Give me a gun so i can shoot something. A mercy killing. Can you do it with tears falling out your eyes. Does it feel as if you died a little inside. My pride comes before my fall. And it wont happen. I need it not any more then you. Pity thrown a skew. Take a picture remember those days. Because these feelings will never end. I cant play a game of pretend. It is as i am. Your not gonna change it. If i have to put a mountain between us. I will. Not for thrills. But so i dont go crazy over something so real. This soul i will never let you steal. Hate me because all you do is hurt me. Say im dog sh*t and i wont care. I rather have that then way you been acting. Dont cry just relise that us being just friends has come to an end.

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Ezra Pound

Canto 49

For the seven lakes, and by no man these verses:
Rain; empty river; a voyage,
Fire from frozen cloud, heavy rain in the twilight
Under the cabin roof was one lantern.
The reeds are heavy; bent;
and the bamboos speak as if weeping.

Autumn moon; hills rise about lakes
against sunset
Evening is like a curtain of cloud,
a blurr above ripples; and through it
sharp long spikes of the cinnamon,
a cold tune amid reeds.
Behind hill the monk's bell
borne on the wind.
Sail passed here in April; may return in October
Boat fades in silver; slowly;
Sun blaze alone on the river.

Where wine flag catches the sunset

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Ezra Pound

Canto XLIX: For the Seven Lakes

For the seven lakes, and by no man these verses:
Rain; empty river; a voyage,
Fire from frozen cloud, heavy rain in the twilight
Under the cabin roof was one lantern.
The reeds are heavy; bent;
and the bamboos speak as if weeping.

Autumn moon; hills rise about lakes
against sunset
Evening is like a curtain of cloud,
a blurr above ripples; and through it
sharp long spikes of the cinnamon,
a cold tune amid reeds.
Behind hill the monk's bell
borne on the wind.
Sail passed here in April; may return in October
Boat fades in silver; slowly;
Sun blaze alone on the river.

Where wine flag catches the sunset

[...] Read more

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An Ode To Freedom

Freedom, you're
Tagore's timeless poetry and everlasting lyrics.

Freedom, you're
Kazi Nazrul, the regally maned magnificent man,
rapturous in creation, oh joy.
Freedom, you're
the radiant gathering at Shahid Minar on Language Day.
Freedom, you're
the flag-draped, slogan-serenaded boisterous procession.
Freedom, you're
the farmer amidst his fields, beaming face.
Freedom, you're
the village lass's lightsome swim in mid-day pond.
Freedom, you're
the sinewy muscles on a skilled workman's sun-bronzed arms.
Freedom, you're
the glint in the eyes of a freedom fighter scouting the darkened and deserted borders.
Freedom, you're
the crisply-worded, scorching speech of a sprited scholar beneath the shade of a banyan tree.

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From Loraine

I have seen the plains lying baked and bare,
When drought and famine hold revel there,
And the cattle sink where the rotting shoals
Of the fish float dead in the waterholes.

I have seen the plains when the flood brings down
The leagues of its waters, sullen and brown,
When only the tops of the swaying trees
Mark the creek that wound thro’ the level leas,
And all is a sea to the straining eyes
Save some lonely hut on a distant rise.

I have seen the plains in the mad delight
Of the racing flames in their crimson flight,
When the whip of the wind will not stay or spare,
And woe to the rider who lingers there!

But, O! the plains when their beauty burst
On our wondering eyes as we crossed them first!
When the sun shone bright and a soft wind blew,

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The Mockingbird

At first it seemed a game
Between the criminally insane.
A bird risking death without a care
To provoke this one, from the air.

Flying by the outstretched head
Ignoring the threat that other's dread.
Darting back and forth
In what appeared mindless mirth
As it teased this one of blackness
Intent only in causing distress
To this one of Nature's lowest creatures
That Eve discovered had other features.

The snake remained motionless
Seeming to ignore this flighty pest,
Then slowly raised his head
Above the surrounding grass, and instead
Of lying silently,
Motionless, patiently.

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The Third World War

As our world dips deeper into recession,
Unemployment then falls through the floor,
Millions without work causes depression,
As the working class are shown the door.

They watch as the rich go on their merry way,
The very people who caused this crash,
On their lavish lifestyles we do not have a say,
They look upon us as their trash.

As worldwide we lose our work and homes,
Our patience is running out fast,
As the rich sit back polishing their chromes,
We are asking how long can this last.

We need to be very careful here,
Our history shows were we are heading,
The very thought should fill us with fear,
It's world leaders we should be dreading.

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