Poetry? Meh and Pshaw on that Aha ha ha ha.

"fuck this shit. . . I shot john wayne." the Fugees, the SCORE.

Edwin Markham

Preparedness

For all your days prepare
and meet them ever alike:
when you are the anvil, bear--
When you are the hammer, strike.

Charlotte P. S. Gilman

A Conservative

The garden beds I wandered by
One bright and cheerful morn,
when I found a new fledged butterfly,
A sitting on a thorn,
A black and crimson butterfly
all doleful and forlorn

I thought that life could have no sting
to infant butterflies,
So I gazed on this unhappy thing
with wonder and surprise
while sadly with his waving wing
he wiped his weeping eyes

Said I, "what can the matter be?
why weepest thou so sore?
With garden fair and sunlight free
and flowers in goodly store,"- -
but he only turned away from me
and burst into a roar.

Cried he, "my legs are thin and few
where once I had a swarm!
soft fuzzy fur - a joy to view -
once kept my body warm,
Before these flapping wing things grew,
to hamper and deform!"

At that outrageous bug I shot
the fury of mind eye;
Said I, in scorn all burning hot,
in rage and anger high,
"you ignominious idiot!
those wings are made to fly!"

And he drooped his wings dejectedly
but still his voice was firm:
"I do not want to be a fly!
I want to be a worm!"

O yesterday of unknown lack,
Today of unknown bliss!
I left my fool in red and black;
The last I saw was this: - -
The creature madly climbing back
into his chrysalis.

Stephen Crane (he wrote the Red Badge of Courage)

The Wayfarer

The warfarer,
Perceiving the pathway to truth,
was struck with astonishment.
it was thickly grown with weeds.
"ha," he said,
"I see that no one has passed here
in a long time."
Later he saw that each weed
was a singular knife.
"well." he mumbled at last,
"doubtless there are other roads."

Witter Bynner (I share the same birthday- Aug. 10th)

Voices

O there were lights and laughter
and the motions to and fro
Of people as they enter
and people as they go . . .

And there were many voices
Vying at the feast
But mostly I remember
Yours - - who spoke the least.

Sara Teasdale

Night Song At Amalfi

I asked the heaven of stars
what I should give my love--
It answered me with silence,
Silence above.

I asked the darkened sea
down where the fishermen go--
It answered me with silence,
Silence below.

Oh, I could give him weeping,
Or I could give him song--
But how can I give him silence
My whole life long?

Willard Wattles (Mr. Wattles is from KS and graduated from KU in 1909)

Creeds

How pitiful are little folk--
They seem so very small;
They look at stars, and think they are
Denominational

Also, the Little Joy is playing in Lawrence on Monday at the Jackpot. The Little Joy is the drummer of the Strokes new band and the name of Los Angeles bar that I used to work/dj country on Wendesday nights at. Appartently, Fab lives near the fab fresh bar in Echo park, and decided to name his new band after it. On top of that, the Little Joy Cocktail Lounge is mananged by a 1979 KU alum, by the name of Joe McGraw, who also graduated from the same high school as me--Hutchinson High School, in 1973. Wild, right? Not yet, because Travis Millard/Fudge Factory, who is also from ks and graduated from KU, has a mural by the bathroom of the little joy (and at the taproom, I know! Crazy)

I perform music at the Taproom this Sunday

see you there

[I'm going back back to cali cali after thanksgiving so I maybe out of the woods for awhile. No fears, I shall return.]