What are dilutions? Here is the definition from the coiner of the word, these 2 pages from Lewis Carroll's Bedside Book, edited by Edgar Cuthwellis:
Mary HAD a Little Lamb by KeLP
Mary HAD a little lamb,
A sorry-looking beast
With red-streaked eyes and spindly legs,
And hardly any fleece.
Its fleece was white as snow,
Though but a tuft behind one ear,
And all the other lambs and sheep
Refused to let it near.
And everywhere that Mary went
The townsfolk would complain,
"Get rid of that appalling beast;
Have you no sense of shame?"
The lamb was sure to go
By hook or crook, they said.
So late one night, by wan moonlight,
They saw to it, it did!
Diluted A. E. Housman by KeLP
1.
Terance, this is stupid stuff,
Running through crowds in the buff.
Long ago died the streaking fad,
Yet still you run, foolish lad!
2.
You eat your victuals fast enough,
You drink your meat like water,
And liquids hardly touch the tongue
Before they reach the bladder.
3.
There can’t be much amiss, ‘tis clear,
So for our aggravation,
We have our precious lawyers
Who file endless litigation.
4.
To see the rate you drink your beer:
Like a camel rehydrating.
The only difference is the hump
Has an altered compass facing.
5.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make
That some may walk with you in light,
As oft’ the heathen quote and add
Stars of mercy to their night.
6.
It gives a chap the belly-ache,
To stand, fidget, sweat, and wait,
Feeling fearful, anxious, blue,
While she awaits the words “I do.”
7.
The cow, the old cow, she is dead;
Was it something she was fed?
Feathers, sheep brains, old orange peels;
What tripe isn’t in her meals?
8.
It sleeps well, the horned head
Of bucks pursued, no doubt, in dreams.
Old dog, to field and hunting bred,
To stake and chain by fortune led,
How strange and sad it seems.
9.
We poor lads, ‘tis our turn now,
To make a run at Fortune,
To drink a toast and take a bow,
And put our plans in motion.
10.
To hear such tunes as killed the cow,
Bands charge a pretty ransom;
No rhythm, rhyme, or melody,
No syncope, no harmony,
But ain’t the players handsome!
11.
Pretty friendship ‘tis to rhyme
And share the verse by voice or pen
That, sad or gay, ‘midst gloom or shine,
Two souls may feel one thought again.
12.
Your friends to death, before their time
Arrived to cut the silver cord,
Clung tight to life through pain and health.
But whispered thoughts of Fame and Wealth
Delayed, denied, or undeserved,
To Lethe’s meadows drove them toward
Whereby Joys and Love declined,
Dimmed, and flickered from their world.
13.
Moping melancholy mad,
He pulled the covers o’er his head,
Sought the balm of Morpheus,
And prayed his God that he were dead.
In fitful pain, self-induced,
He tossed on lies, he turned on truth.
Awoke, but mortal, fear and dust,
As the beasts of life again were loosed.
14.
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.
We tire of moody, dark, and sad.
No more dirges, no more blues;
Pick us up, help us through
Troubled times, unwelcomed news.
Just for now, in this room,
So we can dance, come, pipe a tune.
15.
Why, if ‘tis dancing you would be,
Be circumspect in time and place,
And choose a form with equal care
That brings applause and not disgrace.
16.
There’s brisker pipes than poetry,
Like water pipes, or gas,
Whose products briskly flow away,
While Poet’s wares should last.
17.
Say, for what were hopyards meant?
Why should evolve such a vine?
Ponder that, and drink your brew,
Reconsider, take your time,
Then tell me true--
Is Nature blind?
18.
Or why was Burton built on Trent?
I really couldn’t say.
All things must be somewhere;
I’d leave it where it lay.
19.
Oh, many a peer of England brews,
But few refrigerate.
Has overconsumption of the booze
Led to this sorry state?
20.
Livelier liquor than the Muse,
It’s tough to quite imagine,
Though Politic’s a heady brew
And might best poems a smidgen.
21.
And malt does more than Milton can
As wheat does more than Whitman,
While fennel’s better than R. Frost,
And oats overcome Housman.
22.
To justify God’s ways to man,
Is not what Pastors do.
They teach His Flock as best they can,
So when they come to barren land,
Their Faith will guide them through.
23.
Ale, man, ale’s the stuff to drink,
But alliteration fails you.
The answer isn’t “It’s my pub!”
When the question is “What ails you?”
24.
For fellows whom it hurts to think,
There are many occupations:
Newsman, Blogger, Artisan,
Scientist and Weatherman,
And Leaders of the Nation.
25.
Look into the pewter pot
And see if you can find a mark.
If you can name the metalsmith
The value will increase a fifth.
26.
To see the world as the world’s not
Must be the job of Government.
27.
And faith, ‘tis pleasant till ‘tis past,
When, lost, it brings belief to doubt.
Belief renewed, perhaps replaced,
Opens one again to faith,
Which acted on makes one devout.
28.
The mischief is that twill not last;
Best use sturdy canvas.
But fabric tops
Are a leaky lot.
A better choice is fiberglass.
29.
Oh I have been to Ludlow fair
And to Picadilly Circus.
I met some well-known people there,
But I can’t reveal the purpose.
30.
“And left my necktie God knows where,”
His dissertation ended.
By then our minds had wandered off;
I think he was offended.
31.
And carried halfway home, or near,
By the waning strength of Shank’s Mare,
He sat, jerked shoes from off his feet,
Then said, relieved, “Discalceate!”
32.
Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer
Fill some fellows with good cheer,
While sporting types might scream and jeer,
And others mope, or cry, or leer.
33.
Then the world seemed none so bad,
Nostalgia fades the fears we had,
Just as today’s tribulations
Time softens for your generation.
34.
And I myself a sterling lad
Whose every word is golden truth
Shall humbly lead our priceless band
As we approach the promised land.
35.
And down in lovely muck I’ve lain
To clear my skin and ease my pain.
Some think a bath in mud insane,
But speak their words to me in vain;
They dwell in smog and acid rain,
The sun irradiates their brain,
But they disparage mud? For shame!
36.
Happy ‘till I woke again
(My only joy was found in sleep)
I vowed to never wake.
Down Slumber’s seven thousand steps
I ran, in hand the Silver Key,
And op’d the eldritch Gate.
An Elder God in a distant dream
I compelled to grant my boon,
My body his to keep.
Then out of Dreamland I was thrown,
To never wake my cheerless prize,
For now I never sleep.
37.
Then I saw the morning sky,
Wisps of clouds floating by
With reddish hues and golden glints.
What has logic, or common sense,
To counter such rich evidence?
Think not, just see, and feel, and sigh.
38.
Heigho, the tale was all a lie,
Yet won it not a Pulitzer?
The judges place a value high
On works that spew a certain bull.
And if its contortions
Fit preconceived notions,
They gladly cloak their eyes with wool.
39.
The world, it was the old world yet,
With animals but food and tools,
When someone thought to have a pet,
To most a silly thing to do.
Yet over time were some convinced
The value of unhuman bonds.
There have been countless millions since,
Yet still some think those millions wrong.
40.
I was I, my things were wet,
That was a night I’ll not forget.
You were you, I had you bring
A towel to dry me and my things.
Now he was he, and she was she,
So they were they, and said to me,
“You and you,” that you meant you,
We two, they said, we “should not do
Such acts that towels must be in play,”
And told me I must go away.
But I’ll return when I am me
And dry and then … well, then we’ll see.
41.
And nothing now remained to do
So we should have done that.
But something came out of the blue,
And over time, nothing lacked.
42.
But begin the game anew,
Returning scores to what they were
Before the game began, and hear
The howls of protest in your ear.
The more extolled and proud the cheat,
The less his spoils must he escheat.
Success, though false, thus breeds success;
‘Tween Sport and Win, Win seems best.
43.
Therefore, since the world has still
A shell of substance, a shade of form,
The gist of Physics decrees it real,
But deems realness outside the norm.
44.
Much good, but much less good than ill
Is thought, and spoke, and written still.
The snide half-lie, the easy smear,
A suggested hint of something drear,
Keeps Truth well buried beneath the swill.
45.
And while the sun and moon endure,
The fate of Man remains obscure.
Is Earth a womb from which he’s birthed,
Flies to the stars, and leaves it barren?
Or is Man’s fate tied to the Earth,
Sun dies, and it becomes his cairn?
Or is there Brahman, Heaven, Hell?
Another Sleep to dream of life?
This life the All, done poor or well?
Or souls reborn to ease or strife?
Eternal Life or sequential Lives?
All is Nothing, or Nothing Dies?
46.
Luck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure;
I won’t trouble myself about it.
There’s surely a chance I’ll have some luck;
I’d be fortunate not to doubt it.
47.
I’d face it as a wise man would,
If wisdom showed me that I could;
But if it showed it to be smart,
I would demure and face it not.
48.
And train for ill and not for good.
If you can learn to lie, you should,
Practice a bit of larceny,
And enter a trade of usury,
Amass in wealth illgotten gain,
And your reward is praise and fame.
49.
‘Tis True, the stuff I bring for sale.
I ask as coin--an open mind;
Such an uncommon price to find,
To sell one thing I often fail.
50.
Is not so brisk a brew as ale
The core of every drunkard’s tale?
Where wine gives visions, absinthe dreams,
Beer and ale supply the means
Of daily tales, those common plots,
that plague or better mankind’s lot.
51.
Out of a stem that scored the hand
I ripped this thorn as though ‘twas just
And fair to hold the plant to blame
For why I groped and yelped and cussed.
52.
I wrung it in a weary land,
Then strung the carcass from a limb.
My friend said not to leave it there,
But I cared not, and silenced him.
We rode a thousand yards or so,
Then stopped and looked back to the tree.
The upper limbs were black with crows;
That day to this, they follow me.
53.
But take it: if the smack is sour,
How sweet it is to smack in turn.
With pain so pleasant, joy so dour,
Then take to heart the lesson learned.
54.
The better for the embittered hour
Had to cool their heels and wait,
So when they met their lesser foe
They tended to over-anticipate;
A bruising defeat was their fate.
55.
It should do good to heart and head
But defibrillates the mind instead
And leaves the heart blank and confused:
I think it’s called the “daily news”.
56.
When your soul is in my soul’s stead,
I find it overcrowded.
Even souls need their space,
There is no doubt about it.
57.
And I will friend you, if I may,
And can find time in my busy day,
And it won’t impose or interfere
With other plans I have this year.
58.
In the dark and cloudy day,
Should the Sun peek in,
At once the gloom does pass away
And Hope returns again.
59.
There was a king reigned in the East,
In fact, I’m told, t’were more than one;
A proof that wonders never cease
Nor be new things beneath the sun.
60.
There, when kings will sit to feast,
Their food is edible, at least,
Having been deep-fried in grease,
A practice there that’s never ceased.
If but we could be released,
As those kings are, from food-police,
We’d gorge ourselves on plant and beast,
Choose food by need, want, or caprice,
Not wade in guilt o’er those deceased,
And most of all, we’d eat in peace.
61.
They get their fill before they think,
From oracles that deeply feel,
Beneath whose tears cold logic sinks.
All thoughts stay drowned beneath the flow
Of heartfelt joy and handwrung woe;
They come to feel, they feel to know,
Know what they feel, and all is so.
Statistics die and facts congeal
‘neath oracles that deeply feel.
62.
With poisoned meat and poisoned drink,
We try to rid the Earth of vermin,
Yet the vermin thrive.
Likewise with papers stained with ink,
We try to curb vile acts of humans,
Yet the vermin thrive.
63.
He gathered all that springs to birth,
Condensed it down to DNA,
Quantified what it was worth,
And in the end, threw it away.
64.
From the many-venomed earth,
With all its toxic baths and soils,
They claim life’s spores were virgin-birthed,
With proteins bound in helix coils.
On poisons fed, grown, and spawned,
Does this explain Right and Wrong?
65.
First a little, thence to more,
He op’d his eyes, viewed ceiling--floor--
Then clock--! He lept from bed, awake!
Hurry, hurry, can’t be late-
But again, as always, late’s his fate.
66.
He sampled all her killing store;
She viewed his lethal larder.
They both agreed, a lack of taste
Imperiled the art of murder.
67.
And easy, smiling, seasoned sound,
I fell from Summer into Fall,
Wintered over and sprung around,
And was contented, after all.
68.
Sate the King when healths went round
On peasant fare like chicken soup?
Or do the Royal Doctors’ gowns
Hold other cures for colds and croup?
69.
They put arsenic in his meat;
There, Coyote! No more chickens!
And Vulture died, and Fox, and Crow,
As unintended victims.
70.
And stared aghast to watch him eat,
They did, those Dames of Etiquette.
For he alone, polite and neat,
Did neither pick nor overstuff.
71.
They poured strychnine in his cup;
Like Socrates, he swiftly drank,
And smiled, and died, as was their whim.
They blanched, and fled, in fear of him.
72.
And shook to see him drink it up,
I wept! How flattery deceives!
His heart and mind enslaved by words
He wishes true, and so believes.
73.
They shook, they stared as white’s their shirt,
Were led outside, condemned, and shot.
Some question “Was it justified?”
I have to ask, how was it not?
74.
Them it was their poison hurt,
‘though six-feet down beneath the dirt
Lie those they think they victimized:
Come afterlife, and such surprise!
75.
-- I tell the tale that I heard told,
And the lawyers call it hearsay.
It’s seen as true as facts unfold;
Judge, grant a little leeway!
76.
Mithridates, he died old.
So the poem ends.
Pardon, if I can be so bold--
But sixty-eight or seventy
Years of vice and cruelty
Hardly seems exemplary.
DICKENSON DILUTED, or EMILY ENDANGERED by KeLP
Success is counted sweetest
By those of certain views,
And when they finally get their way,
Ooh, what they've done to you!
By those who ne’er succeed
The impossible is found,
Then others find success by
Staying in the bounds.
To comprehend a nectar
Hold the glass aside your ear,
Then tilt it oh-so-slightly
While listening politely
To the gurgles that you hear.
Requires sorest need
To make the fateful move,
Then when the plan is run
And changes are begun
And all is running smooth,
Restraint from greed.
Not one of all the purple host
Would serve the green-hued guests,
Though the food itself was tinged that shade.
I think, 'twas for the best.
Who took the flag to-day,
Tomboy Susie, Billy, Joel?
Who dared who, who backed down,
Who shinnied up the pole?
Can tell the definition
Of any word, he can.
But no one ever listens
To a lexiphanic man.
So clear, of victory,
He strode into the ring.
The bell was rung,
The battle joined …:
He never fought again.
As he defeated -- dying --
Saw his spirit flying,
He saw Peter coming near.
So he cried out in delight,
"I've finally seen the light!"
Peter knocked him straight to Hell.
On who's forbidden ear
In what ungodly land,
In tones of pride and fear,
Were whispered secret plans?
The distant strains of Triumph
Sound much like BSA,
And quite the same as Norton
When heard from far away.
Burst agonized and clear,
The inners of my ear,
Sacrificed to Panasonic,
Whose vibrations so cthonic
Surpass all sounds avianic,
That I only need to feel.
A Setting: Dickenson Diluted by KeLP
Tell the Truth but tell it slant --
And none will question where it went;
And if oft' repeated such
It'll still be True, 'tho not as much.
Success in Circuit lies
For the Lawyer who is clever,
But when it comes to Appeals,
'tis quite a tough endeavor.
Too bright for our infirm Delight
So, pray, Dad, doff the torch.
We're merely sitting quietly
In the love-seat on the porch.
The Truth's superb surprise
Is that it's never wholly True;
There's always Something to be found
That no-one ever knew.
As Lightning to the Children eased
The Python; Then it struck!
One squealed, one gasped, one could but sigh,
But all were swallowed up.
With explanation kind
We tried to make our point;
You wouldn't listen, so we'll smash
Every bottle in the joint!
The Truth must dazzle gradually,
For B. S. overwhelms.
There's quite a bit of Hazardry
If you confuse their realms.
Or every man be blind --
And every woman speechless --
There is no punishment Divine
For being Nature's creatures.
Mary HAD a little lamb,
A sorry-looking beast
With red-streaked eyes and spindly legs,
And hardly any fleece.
Its fleece was white as snow,
Though but a tuft behind one ear,
And all the other lambs and sheep
Refused to let it near.
And everywhere that Mary went
The townsfolk would complain,
"Get rid of that appalling beast;
Have you no sense of shame?"
The lamb was sure to go
By hook or crook, they said.
So late one night, by wan moonlight,
They saw to it, it did!
Diluted A. E. Housman by KeLP
1.
Terance, this is stupid stuff,
Running through crowds in the buff.
Long ago died the streaking fad,
Yet still you run, foolish lad!
2.
You eat your victuals fast enough,
You drink your meat like water,
And liquids hardly touch the tongue
Before they reach the bladder.
3.
There can’t be much amiss, ‘tis clear,
So for our aggravation,
We have our precious lawyers
Who file endless litigation.
4.
To see the rate you drink your beer:
Like a camel rehydrating.
The only difference is the hump
Has an altered compass facing.
5.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make
That some may walk with you in light,
As oft’ the heathen quote and add
Stars of mercy to their night.
6.
It gives a chap the belly-ache,
To stand, fidget, sweat, and wait,
Feeling fearful, anxious, blue,
While she awaits the words “I do.”
7.
The cow, the old cow, she is dead;
Was it something she was fed?
Feathers, sheep brains, old orange peels;
What tripe isn’t in her meals?
8.
It sleeps well, the horned head
Of bucks pursued, no doubt, in dreams.
Old dog, to field and hunting bred,
To stake and chain by fortune led,
How strange and sad it seems.
9.
We poor lads, ‘tis our turn now,
To make a run at Fortune,
To drink a toast and take a bow,
And put our plans in motion.
10.
To hear such tunes as killed the cow,
Bands charge a pretty ransom;
No rhythm, rhyme, or melody,
No syncope, no harmony,
But ain’t the players handsome!
11.
Pretty friendship ‘tis to rhyme
And share the verse by voice or pen
That, sad or gay, ‘midst gloom or shine,
Two souls may feel one thought again.
12.
Your friends to death, before their time
Arrived to cut the silver cord,
Clung tight to life through pain and health.
But whispered thoughts of Fame and Wealth
Delayed, denied, or undeserved,
To Lethe’s meadows drove them toward
Whereby Joys and Love declined,
Dimmed, and flickered from their world.
13.
Moping melancholy mad,
He pulled the covers o’er his head,
Sought the balm of Morpheus,
And prayed his God that he were dead.
In fitful pain, self-induced,
He tossed on lies, he turned on truth.
Awoke, but mortal, fear and dust,
As the beasts of life again were loosed.
14.
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.
We tire of moody, dark, and sad.
No more dirges, no more blues;
Pick us up, help us through
Troubled times, unwelcomed news.
Just for now, in this room,
So we can dance, come, pipe a tune.
15.
Why, if ‘tis dancing you would be,
Be circumspect in time and place,
And choose a form with equal care
That brings applause and not disgrace.
16.
There’s brisker pipes than poetry,
Like water pipes, or gas,
Whose products briskly flow away,
While Poet’s wares should last.
17.
Say, for what were hopyards meant?
Why should evolve such a vine?
Ponder that, and drink your brew,
Reconsider, take your time,
Then tell me true--
Is Nature blind?
18.
Or why was Burton built on Trent?
I really couldn’t say.
All things must be somewhere;
I’d leave it where it lay.
19.
Oh, many a peer of England brews,
But few refrigerate.
Has overconsumption of the booze
Led to this sorry state?
20.
Livelier liquor than the Muse,
It’s tough to quite imagine,
Though Politic’s a heady brew
And might best poems a smidgen.
21.
And malt does more than Milton can
As wheat does more than Whitman,
While fennel’s better than R. Frost,
And oats overcome Housman.
22.
To justify God’s ways to man,
Is not what Pastors do.
They teach His Flock as best they can,
So when they come to barren land,
Their Faith will guide them through.
23.
Ale, man, ale’s the stuff to drink,
But alliteration fails you.
The answer isn’t “It’s my pub!”
When the question is “What ails you?”
24.
For fellows whom it hurts to think,
There are many occupations:
Newsman, Blogger, Artisan,
Scientist and Weatherman,
And Leaders of the Nation.
25.
Look into the pewter pot
And see if you can find a mark.
If you can name the metalsmith
The value will increase a fifth.
26.
To see the world as the world’s not
Must be the job of Government.
27.
And faith, ‘tis pleasant till ‘tis past,
When, lost, it brings belief to doubt.
Belief renewed, perhaps replaced,
Opens one again to faith,
Which acted on makes one devout.
28.
The mischief is that twill not last;
Best use sturdy canvas.
But fabric tops
Are a leaky lot.
A better choice is fiberglass.
29.
Oh I have been to Ludlow fair
And to Picadilly Circus.
I met some well-known people there,
But I can’t reveal the purpose.
30.
“And left my necktie God knows where,”
His dissertation ended.
By then our minds had wandered off;
I think he was offended.
31.
And carried halfway home, or near,
By the waning strength of Shank’s Mare,
He sat, jerked shoes from off his feet,
Then said, relieved, “Discalceate!”
32.
Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer
Fill some fellows with good cheer,
While sporting types might scream and jeer,
And others mope, or cry, or leer.
33.
Then the world seemed none so bad,
Nostalgia fades the fears we had,
Just as today’s tribulations
Time softens for your generation.
34.
And I myself a sterling lad
Whose every word is golden truth
Shall humbly lead our priceless band
As we approach the promised land.
35.
And down in lovely muck I’ve lain
To clear my skin and ease my pain.
Some think a bath in mud insane,
But speak their words to me in vain;
They dwell in smog and acid rain,
The sun irradiates their brain,
But they disparage mud? For shame!
36.
Happy ‘till I woke again
(My only joy was found in sleep)
I vowed to never wake.
Down Slumber’s seven thousand steps
I ran, in hand the Silver Key,
And op’d the eldritch Gate.
An Elder God in a distant dream
I compelled to grant my boon,
My body his to keep.
Then out of Dreamland I was thrown,
To never wake my cheerless prize,
For now I never sleep.
37.
Then I saw the morning sky,
Wisps of clouds floating by
With reddish hues and golden glints.
What has logic, or common sense,
To counter such rich evidence?
Think not, just see, and feel, and sigh.
38.
Heigho, the tale was all a lie,
Yet won it not a Pulitzer?
The judges place a value high
On works that spew a certain bull.
And if its contortions
Fit preconceived notions,
They gladly cloak their eyes with wool.
39.
The world, it was the old world yet,
With animals but food and tools,
When someone thought to have a pet,
To most a silly thing to do.
Yet over time were some convinced
The value of unhuman bonds.
There have been countless millions since,
Yet still some think those millions wrong.
40.
I was I, my things were wet,
That was a night I’ll not forget.
You were you, I had you bring
A towel to dry me and my things.
Now he was he, and she was she,
So they were they, and said to me,
“You and you,” that you meant you,
We two, they said, we “should not do
Such acts that towels must be in play,”
And told me I must go away.
But I’ll return when I am me
And dry and then … well, then we’ll see.
41.
And nothing now remained to do
So we should have done that.
But something came out of the blue,
And over time, nothing lacked.
42.
But begin the game anew,
Returning scores to what they were
Before the game began, and hear
The howls of protest in your ear.
The more extolled and proud the cheat,
The less his spoils must he escheat.
Success, though false, thus breeds success;
‘Tween Sport and Win, Win seems best.
43.
Therefore, since the world has still
A shell of substance, a shade of form,
The gist of Physics decrees it real,
But deems realness outside the norm.
44.
Much good, but much less good than ill
Is thought, and spoke, and written still.
The snide half-lie, the easy smear,
A suggested hint of something drear,
Keeps Truth well buried beneath the swill.
45.
And while the sun and moon endure,
The fate of Man remains obscure.
Is Earth a womb from which he’s birthed,
Flies to the stars, and leaves it barren?
Or is Man’s fate tied to the Earth,
Sun dies, and it becomes his cairn?
Or is there Brahman, Heaven, Hell?
Another Sleep to dream of life?
This life the All, done poor or well?
Or souls reborn to ease or strife?
Eternal Life or sequential Lives?
All is Nothing, or Nothing Dies?
46.
Luck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure;
I won’t trouble myself about it.
There’s surely a chance I’ll have some luck;
I’d be fortunate not to doubt it.
47.
I’d face it as a wise man would,
If wisdom showed me that I could;
But if it showed it to be smart,
I would demure and face it not.
48.
And train for ill and not for good.
If you can learn to lie, you should,
Practice a bit of larceny,
And enter a trade of usury,
Amass in wealth illgotten gain,
And your reward is praise and fame.
49.
‘Tis True, the stuff I bring for sale.
I ask as coin--an open mind;
Such an uncommon price to find,
To sell one thing I often fail.
50.
Is not so brisk a brew as ale
The core of every drunkard’s tale?
Where wine gives visions, absinthe dreams,
Beer and ale supply the means
Of daily tales, those common plots,
that plague or better mankind’s lot.
51.
Out of a stem that scored the hand
I ripped this thorn as though ‘twas just
And fair to hold the plant to blame
For why I groped and yelped and cussed.
52.
I wrung it in a weary land,
Then strung the carcass from a limb.
My friend said not to leave it there,
But I cared not, and silenced him.
We rode a thousand yards or so,
Then stopped and looked back to the tree.
The upper limbs were black with crows;
That day to this, they follow me.
53.
But take it: if the smack is sour,
How sweet it is to smack in turn.
With pain so pleasant, joy so dour,
Then take to heart the lesson learned.
54.
The better for the embittered hour
Had to cool their heels and wait,
So when they met their lesser foe
They tended to over-anticipate;
A bruising defeat was their fate.
55.
It should do good to heart and head
But defibrillates the mind instead
And leaves the heart blank and confused:
I think it’s called the “daily news”.
56.
When your soul is in my soul’s stead,
I find it overcrowded.
Even souls need their space,
There is no doubt about it.
57.
And I will friend you, if I may,
And can find time in my busy day,
And it won’t impose or interfere
With other plans I have this year.
58.
In the dark and cloudy day,
Should the Sun peek in,
At once the gloom does pass away
And Hope returns again.
59.
There was a king reigned in the East,
In fact, I’m told, t’were more than one;
A proof that wonders never cease
Nor be new things beneath the sun.
60.
There, when kings will sit to feast,
Their food is edible, at least,
Having been deep-fried in grease,
A practice there that’s never ceased.
If but we could be released,
As those kings are, from food-police,
We’d gorge ourselves on plant and beast,
Choose food by need, want, or caprice,
Not wade in guilt o’er those deceased,
And most of all, we’d eat in peace.
61.
They get their fill before they think,
From oracles that deeply feel,
Beneath whose tears cold logic sinks.
All thoughts stay drowned beneath the flow
Of heartfelt joy and handwrung woe;
They come to feel, they feel to know,
Know what they feel, and all is so.
Statistics die and facts congeal
‘neath oracles that deeply feel.
62.
With poisoned meat and poisoned drink,
We try to rid the Earth of vermin,
Yet the vermin thrive.
Likewise with papers stained with ink,
We try to curb vile acts of humans,
Yet the vermin thrive.
63.
He gathered all that springs to birth,
Condensed it down to DNA,
Quantified what it was worth,
And in the end, threw it away.
64.
From the many-venomed earth,
With all its toxic baths and soils,
They claim life’s spores were virgin-birthed,
With proteins bound in helix coils.
On poisons fed, grown, and spawned,
Does this explain Right and Wrong?
65.
First a little, thence to more,
He op’d his eyes, viewed ceiling--floor--
Then clock--! He lept from bed, awake!
Hurry, hurry, can’t be late-
But again, as always, late’s his fate.
66.
He sampled all her killing store;
She viewed his lethal larder.
They both agreed, a lack of taste
Imperiled the art of murder.
67.
And easy, smiling, seasoned sound,
I fell from Summer into Fall,
Wintered over and sprung around,
And was contented, after all.
68.
Sate the King when healths went round
On peasant fare like chicken soup?
Or do the Royal Doctors’ gowns
Hold other cures for colds and croup?
69.
They put arsenic in his meat;
There, Coyote! No more chickens!
And Vulture died, and Fox, and Crow,
As unintended victims.
70.
And stared aghast to watch him eat,
They did, those Dames of Etiquette.
For he alone, polite and neat,
Did neither pick nor overstuff.
71.
They poured strychnine in his cup;
Like Socrates, he swiftly drank,
And smiled, and died, as was their whim.
They blanched, and fled, in fear of him.
72.
And shook to see him drink it up,
I wept! How flattery deceives!
His heart and mind enslaved by words
He wishes true, and so believes.
73.
They shook, they stared as white’s their shirt,
Were led outside, condemned, and shot.
Some question “Was it justified?”
I have to ask, how was it not?
74.
Them it was their poison hurt,
‘though six-feet down beneath the dirt
Lie those they think they victimized:
Come afterlife, and such surprise!
75.
-- I tell the tale that I heard told,
And the lawyers call it hearsay.
It’s seen as true as facts unfold;
Judge, grant a little leeway!
76.
Mithridates, he died old.
So the poem ends.
Pardon, if I can be so bold--
But sixty-eight or seventy
Years of vice and cruelty
Hardly seems exemplary.
DICKENSON DILUTED, or EMILY ENDANGERED by KeLP
Success is counted sweetest
By those of certain views,
And when they finally get their way,
Ooh, what they've done to you!
By those who ne’er succeed
The impossible is found,
Then others find success by
Staying in the bounds.
To comprehend a nectar
Hold the glass aside your ear,
Then tilt it oh-so-slightly
While listening politely
To the gurgles that you hear.
Requires sorest need
To make the fateful move,
Then when the plan is run
And changes are begun
And all is running smooth,
Restraint from greed.
Not one of all the purple host
Would serve the green-hued guests,
Though the food itself was tinged that shade.
I think, 'twas for the best.
Who took the flag to-day,
Tomboy Susie, Billy, Joel?
Who dared who, who backed down,
Who shinnied up the pole?
Can tell the definition
Of any word, he can.
But no one ever listens
To a lexiphanic man.
So clear, of victory,
He strode into the ring.
The bell was rung,
The battle joined …:
He never fought again.
As he defeated -- dying --
Saw his spirit flying,
He saw Peter coming near.
So he cried out in delight,
"I've finally seen the light!"
Peter knocked him straight to Hell.
On who's forbidden ear
In what ungodly land,
In tones of pride and fear,
Were whispered secret plans?
The distant strains of Triumph
Sound much like BSA,
And quite the same as Norton
When heard from far away.
Burst agonized and clear,
The inners of my ear,
Sacrificed to Panasonic,
Whose vibrations so cthonic
Surpass all sounds avianic,
That I only need to feel.
A Setting: Dickenson Diluted by KeLP
Tell the Truth but tell it slant --
And none will question where it went;
And if oft' repeated such
It'll still be True, 'tho not as much.
Success in Circuit lies
For the Lawyer who is clever,
But when it comes to Appeals,
'tis quite a tough endeavor.
Too bright for our infirm Delight
So, pray, Dad, doff the torch.
We're merely sitting quietly
In the love-seat on the porch.
The Truth's superb surprise
Is that it's never wholly True;
There's always Something to be found
That no-one ever knew.
As Lightning to the Children eased
The Python; Then it struck!
One squealed, one gasped, one could but sigh,
But all were swallowed up.
With explanation kind
We tried to make our point;
You wouldn't listen, so we'll smash
Every bottle in the joint!
The Truth must dazzle gradually,
For B. S. overwhelms.
There's quite a bit of Hazardry
If you confuse their realms.
Or every man be blind --
And every woman speechless --
There is no punishment Divine
For being Nature's creatures.