Pithy Helmets & Maxim Guns

Pithy Helmet2

For donkeys, happiness is the carrot dangled before them
which inspires to continue on the path of misery.

For sheep, happiness is the greener pasture beyond the overgrazed enclosure
whose access is guarded by the shepherd who works for the slaughterhouse.

For hungry lions, happiness is crossing the path of a distracted donkey or sheep.

For dinosaurs, happiness is knowing you can never become extinct.

For poets, happiness is a beautiful and eternal poem
that has never and can never be written.

For a happy person, the concept of happiness is superfluous.

For depressives, the concept of happiness is insult added to injury.

For children, happiness is something grown-ups talk about.

For adults, happiness increasingly becomes associated with childhood.

Happiness is overrated; suffering is more dependable, though less enjoyable.

Arise, let us go from here.

IMAGES: envisioningtheamericandream.com
theunrulyoflaw.blogspot.com
ninetymilesfromtyranny.blogspot.com

I Often Wonder

Porneia3

what I am doing wrong (poetically)?

I write from the heart and post my best –
then notice how other blogs get lots of likes for seeming tripe…

Do I have to feed TwitFace and offer a FaceGram share?
Did I neglect to check the box on some vapid social media setting?

What the holy lyrical hell has blogging come to?
Is asking fellow word-addicts to READ what I write too much?

It only confirms my suspicion that CONTENT has taken a reluctant back seat to insta-digestibility.

Please advise.

Brazil Nuts 4 U

Ask my Brazilian ex-wife what it means.
The one tanning herself on the beach.

Yeah – HER.

Eu quis cantar uma canção iluminada de sol
Soltei os panos sobre os mastros no are
Soltei os tigres e os leões nos quintais
Mas as pessoas na sala de jantar
São ocupadas em nascer e morrer
Mandei fazer de puro aço luminoso um punhal
Para matar o meu amor e matei
Às cinco horas na avenida central
Mas as pessoas da sala de jantar
São ocupadas em nascer e morrer
Mandei plantar folhas de sonhos no jardim do solar
As folhas sabem procurar pelo sol
E as raízes procurar, procurar
Mas as pessoas da sala de jantar
Essas pessoas da sala de jantar
Mas as pessoas da sala de jantar
São ocupadas em nascer e morrer

I wanted to sing a song enlightened by the sun
I left the clothes upon the flag poles in the air
I loosed the tigers and lions out in the backyard
But the people in the dining room are busy getting born and dying
I ordered a pure-steel bright dagger
to kill my love and I did
at 5 o’clock on the central avenue
But the people in the dinner room are busy getting born and dying
I ordered them to plant dream leaves in the solar garden
the leaves know how to look for the sun
and the root, to search, search
but the people in the dining room
those people in the dining room
but the people in the dining room
are busy getting born and dying

English translation adapted from Junin @ SongMeanings

Masters in this Hall

English Lyrics: William Morris, 1834-1896
Music: traditional French tune 17th century

Masters in this Hall, hear ye news to-day
Brought from over sea – and ever I you pray;

Chorus:
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell! Nowell, sing we clear
Holpen are all folk on earth, born is God’s son so dear:
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell! Nowell, sing we loud
God to-day hath poor folk raised, and cast a-down the proud…

Going o’er the hills, through the milk-white snow
Heard the ewes bleat while the wind did blow

Chorus

Then to Bethlem town we went two by two,
And in a sorry place, heard the oxen low

Chorus

Therein did we see a sweet and goodly maid
And a fair old man – upon the straw she lay

Chorus

This is Christ the Lord – Masters be ye glad!
Christmas is come in, and no folk should be sad…

CasparDavidF snow 1

Caspar David Friedrich: Monastery Ruins in the Snow (1818)