Helicopter Rides: A Time for Choosing
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WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2003-2020
Gerard Van der Leun
Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well
Builds his monument mockingly;
For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun
Die blind and blacken to the heart:
Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained
thoughts found
The honey of peace in old poems.
— Robinson Jeffers
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o’clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.
— Eliot
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this
air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
— Walt Whitman
The scientists are in terror
and the European mind stops
Wyndham Lewis chose blindness
rather than have his mind stop.
Night under wind mid garofani,
the petals are almost still
Mozart, Linnaeus, Sulmona,
When one’s friends hate each other
how can there be peace in the world?
Their asperities diverted me in my green time.
A blown husk that is finished
but the light sings eternal
a pale flare over marshes
where the salt hay whispers to tide’s change
Time, space,
neither life nor death is the answer.
And of man seeking good,
doing evil.
In meiner Heimat
where the dead walked
and the living were made of cardboard.
Comments on this entry are closed.
Why waste money with flight?
Some stout rope, a sturdy trailer hitch, a vacant road.
I bet my ride can drag at least 8 of em at a time.
That works out to about 512 per day, and I’m willing to work overtime.
A month of 18 hour days, non-stop, oughta put a dent in the problem.
Course, if you used a Chinook with the tailgate you could prolly cram about 50 in there at the same time, then take em out about 50 miles and let em go, no clean up. A 48 volt cattle prod will help em find the exit ramp.
It would appear that the mob has claimed another pelt. Local media reporting Prof. Mike Adams, who was to resign from UNC-W on Aug 1st and receive a half million for doing so, has been found dead in his house.
You know I spoke a lot of Marx
Oh Lord, I taught about Engels
But I never said nothing
But how Guevarra would kill
You know I seen a lot of helos flying round
Drop comrades thru the skies
Aaah, but Pinochey dont cate if they lived
Or if they died
Goddamn, Uh huh, Pinochet
I said God famn, God damn Pinochet man
You know Guevarra .. Guevarra is a man
With a love of Castro in his head
Aaah but Pinochet is a Nazi
Oh Lord, he’s not a Gramscian man
Guevarra! …. on a poster
Will sell you a Marxist pipe dream
Aah, but Pinochet will set up a junta
Oh Lord, he’ll put your Commie ass in sling
God damn, uh huh, Pinochet
I said God damn, G-D DAMN
The Pinochet man
(Cue sound of another “Magic Helo Ride” chopper taking off)