Here’s is the original poem that was set to music →→→ Stay The Fuck At Home
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.
His blue dinosaur/dragon/whatever appears to be appalled by the salty language.
Yep, I agree.
Here’s a much less salty but good-humored bit of advice for cats on how to keep a healthful schedule during quarantine. After all, die Katzen know they are good company for their human slaves during these trying times:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cllwHb89dfA&ab_channel=cheezburger
Cats can suffer too because of the pandemic, our young friend had to go to the Animal Hospital; but unlike every other time our cats were sick or hurt, we couldn’t go in with them to hold and comfort them in the scary place. The new rules in our area are park in front of the door, call the front desk, wait inside the car for an aide to come out to take our friend in. While we wait in the car and Max has to endure the handling of strangers without our comfort. And he HATES strangers, we have friends that have never seen him. He disappears before they get out of the car.
BTW, earlier this morning I couldn’t get onto AD, got a Wordpress error. Thought I should mention it.
Good information about the kitty John. I was fortunate since Olive’s annual checkup and shot boosting moment (she needs to be sedated at the vet) happened several weeks back.
“And he HATES strangers, we have friends that have never seen him.”
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True here too. We have 4 cats and no one but my wife and me has ever seen them. lol When they hear a noise that is not expected, VAMOOSE!, they is gone!
Every cat we have ever had received their initial shots and then never received any more. We have an established plan where it has been impossible for over 30 years for any of them to escape our domain. They all live like lazy kings, though all 4 are gurlz. Queens?
Supposedly the origination of the word f*ck
came from prostitutes being charged a fee
to practice their trade. Hence: Fornication
Under Consent of the King