anyone lived in a pretty how town

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone’s any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

– E. E. Cummings

Submitted by:
Tia, who says “Because its musical, and pretty :) I’m surprised nobody’s turned this one into a pop hit yet.”

Postscript:

Edward Estlin Cummings is one of my favorite poets, as he is Tia’s. This is at least in part because of his poetic style being impressionist – you have a bunch of images thrown at you, and have to decide how they make you feel as much as piece together what they mean. You can read a couple of articles about the poem here and here.

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Published:
April 4, 2011 – 08:00
Author:
By Madhu
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1 Comment

The Gift

Thinking she was the gift
they began to package it early.
They waxed its smile
they lowered its eyes
they tuned its ears to the telephone
they curled its hair
they straightened its teeth
they taught it to bury its wishbone
they poured honey down its throat
they made it say yes yes and yes
they sat on its thumbs.

That box has my name on it,
said the man. It’s for me.
And they were not surprised.
While they blew kisses and winked
he took it home. He put it on a table
where his friends could examine it
saying dance saying faster.
He plunged its tunnels
he burned his name deeper.
Later he put it on a platform
under the lights
saying push saying harder
saying just what I wanted
you’ve given me a son.

– Carole Oles

Postscript:

A truly disturbing poem, and I generally have a strong stomach. Another Minstrels find.
This one goes out to all those (?)well-meaning people who shove dolls at girls and tanks at boys. I could deliver a half-page rant about gender roles and society, but let’s not and say we did, shall we? Instead, I’ll point you to this, mention the mountains that are human trafficking and female infanticide and leave it at that.

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Published:
April 3, 2011 – 08:00
Author:
By Madhu
Categories:
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2 Comments

If I Die Laughing, It Will Be An Act of God

Its revelation reveals –
Divine comedy (and more),
Please welcome your four Hosts –
Death, Famine, Pestilence and War.

You say that we are all God’s children,
Can you please explain
How any father could inflict
His children so much pain?
I’m sure he finds it funny
But I fail to see the joke,
I bet he’ll piss his breeches when
We all go up in smoke.

Life’s one big disaster,
I hear the sound of laughter
Coming from the hereafter,
(I find it kind of odd)
We’re stooges for Jehovah,
He loves to knock us over,
So if I die laughing
It’ll be an act of God!

Thunderbolts were once his style
It’s now malignant tumours,
I wonder what he’ll think of next
To test my sense of humour?

You said I must accept his will,
That God will spare the weak,
I bet those tears aren’t tears of laughter
Running down your cheek –
When you are stood right there beside me
(Egg upon your face),
Your precious soul floats with the dust
Back home in outer space.

– Martin Walkyier (Skyclad)

Submitted by:

Ravi, who says “Shortly after my mother died, I thought my dad got a bad case of religion (a wrong diagnosis as it turns out, given his subsequent revelation that he’s atheist). He signed up for an Art of Living course, and the pranayam did him a world of good, but what disturbed me was a few books authored by the Sri Sri began littering the house. One of them was called ‘God Loves Fun’. Given the circumstances, the title and the smirking man on its cover made me furious. I thought of printing these lyrics out, and leaving them next to the book. It’s one of those things that I’m glad I didn’t go through with. It’s still a fantastic song, though. ”

Postscript:

It’s something that occurs to everyone at some point, perhaps – how can a benevolent God permit so much pain to exist in the world. Here’s a link to the song.

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Published:
April 2, 2011 – 08:00
Author:
By Madhu
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