&Mac247;The Haiku (or liberally translated the wacky wanka), a new tool of science in the search for truth (or whatever)

Yanagimachi
Teruhiko Makayama
cumulus naru
cumulina
Orkin o-iwai.


Translation:
Yanagimachi
Teruhiko Makayama
cumulus cells become
cumulina
Orkin rejoices.


2.
Samarai sushi
peach petals fall
on glorious scientific achievement.

zeninubasho

Here's something new in case i (or you) don't make it tonite. I can't take credit for the clever lines at the end--they are quotes.

 

IN THE SYMBOLIST CAFE

--aux poètes maudits

The murky ambience conceals meaning.

Metaphors scuttle back and forth

In tenebrous nooks

Inhaling resinous vapours in the toilette

to fuzz their intent.

Big Daddy Baudelaire sits in the center

Having received the transmission from Poe

And, like Evers' relay from Tinker to Chance,

wings it on to Mallarmé.

Clarity sells at a discount

in this mysterious market.

Laforgue and Corbière,

relegated to a back booth,

debate the significance of albatross and whale

amidst the vague haze of steam and smoke.

While Poe's raven hunkers at the bar

with Stevens' crows--the color of oblivion.

The substitution of rhymed rebus

for poetry, cry the critics,

but Mallarmé replies:

To name is to destroy

To suggest is to create!

The chorus echoes:

An enigma for the vulgar, chamber music for the initiated.

Mark C. Peery (graduate of two great universities)

(Who is Mark C. Peery?)

 

If it walks like a penguin

Stockholm, Noble Peace Prize ceremonies, 1975?
("We don't make a lot of mistakes"--spokesman for the Noble Prize Committee commenting on Nobel Prize for Peace awarded to Kissinger)

If he is not a penguin and he is got up like a penguin
with white breast slashed by ribbons
of questionable honors and shiny black coat
and penguin like glasses (a la Batman)
if he is not a penguin he is a duck--
and for certain his bride (as of Frankenstein)
is no question a duck, eponymously so (being Le Duc Tho)
and they waddle down the aisle in tails
and white tie to be married in immortality
by the King of Sweden.

zeninubasho

 

Mao, in conversation with Chou En Lai

You cannot plumb nor sound the depths of Nixon's lust
for China. Since McCarthy it has loomed large on
his inner horizon like Li Po's rising moon. He does not
understand China nor the Chinese. He understands only
the puppet strings of small fears and hatreds--like too many
of the Americans China is too large for him to grasp.
His mind is not big enough. He is intelligent but not wise
and believes that he needs us more than we need him.
He will be a child's yo yo in your hands. You will fly him
like a dragon kite. Behold the whale breeches

His only lust is for immortal fame and he will do anything
to satisfy his lust. Otherwise he is an onanist

You can play Nixon like a fish He's no whale
but he'll take the bait He is drawn to China by lust--
lust for fame and a need to win his own good self regard.

rambass

From: "Mark C. Peery" <markpeery@earthlink.net>
Subject: <no subject>

 

 

WAY down

DEEP down

INSIDE her BONES,

Mr. McGILLicuddy's

got a big bad JONES.

STUFF her with SAUSAGE

and french-fried frangiPANi

feed the REST to Little Orphan ANNie.

MAY I SEE YOUR I.D.

There is no place to stand

To ask yourself the question

Who am I?

All avenues of inquiry are closed indefinitely for repairs

The best you can do is

Pretend to be the one

Pretending to ask the question

Don't ask "Why"?

It will only distract you

from catching the greased pig of your mind

with no hands

Happiness eludes you

So does meaning

The trick is to stay calm

And wait for the end

??--Art Vandelay

ZEN HAIKU

COMPOSED UPON THE OCCASION OF THE WIFE LEAVING

FOR WORK

AFTER A MORNING OF FRETTING, WORRYING, RAGING AND REMONSTRATING

 

 

Thank god she goed away

 

 

 

 

TRE POESIE

 

 

SUL sul soggetto di ansietà DI ansietà

 

sul soggetto di ansietà

 

sul soggetto di ansietà

 

 

ansietà

 

 

ansietà

 

ansietà

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Arturo Vandelai

un poeta straordinario

 

che ha scritto molte belle poesie

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

TRE POESIE

SUL sul soggetto di ansietà DI ansietà

sul soggetto di ansietà

sul soggetto di ansietà

 

ansietà

 

ansietà

ansietà

 

 

 

 

 

 

Arturo Vandelai
un poeta straordinario

che ha scritto molte belle poesie

 

*******

 

 

ANXIETY

Pablo never kept his eyes shut
He never did

He knew it would come at him
sideways
spinning
in a blur
without a sound

One day he fell asleep
And when he woke
Everything had changed

The air was warm
A soft breeze caressed him
Leaves on the trees fluttered gently
His mind was clear

But when he bent down to smell the light fragrance
Of the colorful blossoms bending in the breeze
It came at him
sideways
spinning
in a blur
without a sound

It tore into his flesh, ripped his heart out by the roots
And cast it to ground in contempt

He smiled--

At last, he said,
Tonight I sleep for good.

--Art Frartseik

*****

August 2003

Secret recipe of Ambrosia discovered...

This great Greek goat must be drunk
else why would he risk his life to pursue
that tender leaf at the end of a slender branch
out over the middle of this back road to Delphi.

There he balances, unconcerned with the danger
of falling into my open car as I drive beneath him.
I know what he’s been drinking. It’s from the same still
the Gods had hereabouts--the stuff which kept them
eternally young. Ambrosia. By a process of induction I have
discovered the recipe--it is an intoxicating mixture
of Greek light, pure air, the scent of delphic thyme,
some mysterious blue from the sky, spume of Aegean waves
with a hint of pipes from behind a rock up the mountain.

I’ve been drinking it myself. Ah bright ecstasy! Eternal Youth!

geronimo bassetti

(from Snapshots, Postcards and Random Unrecorded Images)

MORE DOGGERL AND CATTERL FROM ZENINUBASHO

 MARK C. PEERY CONTINUES TO RANT AT THIS LINKI