WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
The Japanese: Nuked Too Much or ……. I rest my case.
byVanderleunonAugust 9, 2019
This item concerns a boy suspended from the ceiling and his grandmother. When they get him down the grandmother needs to horsewhip him through downtown Tokyo at rush hour like an old mule.
As the sign in front of the old Lone Stare Cafe* used to say: “Too Much Ain’t Enough”.
*https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lone_Star_Cafe
JackAugust 10, 2019, 5:09 AM
Spare the mule, matter of fact, spare all of them. Horse whip him like he’s an left wing nut job of every flavor from rat’cheer at home.
Millie WoodsAugust 10, 2019, 6:46 AM
They’re weird but l got more faith in the inhabitants of that tiny island than l do in the whole continent of Africa and most of the rest of the world.
Toxic Deplorable Racist B WoodmanAugust 10, 2019, 8:02 AM
I’ve heard that the Japanese people are crowded on their little island, but this is ridiculous.
CCAugust 10, 2019, 8:47 AM
OTOH, what an inventive way to efficiently handle the lack of interior space!
She should string some rope lights on him.
Lay down these words
Before your mind like rocks.
placed solid, by hands
In choice of place, set
Before the body of the mind
in space and time:
Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall
riprap of things:
Cobble of milky way.
straying planets,
These poems, people,
lost ponies with
Dragging saddles –
and rocky sure-foot trails.
The worlds like an endless
four-dimensional
Game of Go.
ants and pebbles
In the thin loam, each rock a word
a creek-washed stone
Granite: ingrained
with torment of fire and weight
Crystal and sediment linked hot
all change, in thoughts,
As well as things.
Gary Snyder
The Waking
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
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.
from Preludes
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
ARTIST: CASEY KLAHN
Song of Myself
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
“From a student radical/hippie/leftist of the Free Speech Movement/Vietnam Day Commitee era and a full-on Democratic Liberal in the decades after, I think I’ve evolved a politics that is neither right nor left but is, in its elemental nature, draconian. In the last 20 years, I’ve taken apart my beliefs with a sledgehammer. Now I’ve got to put the surviving parts back together with tweezers and other ‘shabby equipment, always deteriorating’.”
Real World Address for Donations, Mash Notes and Hate Mail
Gerard Van der Leun
1692 MANGROVE AVE
APT 379
Chico, Ca 95926
![That Was the Whopper Weekend That Was [Illustrated]](https://americandigest.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2021/05/welcometohell-150x150.jpg "That Was the Whopper Weekend That Was [Illustrated]")
Gerard Van der Leun
Lay down these words
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
The scientists are in terror
Comments on this entry are closed.
Shoulda left him up there.
Shikata ga nai.
As the sign in front of the old Lone Stare Cafe* used to say: “Too Much Ain’t Enough”.
*https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lone_Star_Cafe
Spare the mule, matter of fact, spare all of them. Horse whip him like he’s an left wing nut job of every flavor from rat’cheer at home.
They’re weird but l got more faith in the inhabitants of that tiny island than l do in the whole continent of Africa and most of the rest of the world.
I’ve heard that the Japanese people are crowded on their little island, but this is ridiculous.
OTOH, what an inventive way to efficiently handle the lack of interior space!
She should string some rope lights on him.
There has to be an easier way to kill grandma
Was thinking of you when I saw this the other day … nuked enough I suspect.