Tweedledee said to Alice, "You like poetry-"

"Ye-es, pretty well-some poetry," Alice said doubtfully.

"What shall I repeat to her," said Tweedledee, looking round at
Tweedledum with great solemn eyes.

"'The Walrus and the Carpenter' is the longest," Tweedledum replied,
giving his brother an affectionate hug.

Tweedledee began instantly:

The Walrus And The Carpenter

The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright-
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done-
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead-
There were no birds to fly

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "It would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept for half a year,
Do you suppose," the walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

"O, Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head-
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat-
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more-
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes-and ships-and sealing wax-
Of cabbages-and kings-
And why the sea is boiling hot-
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.


"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed-
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue,
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?"

"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf-
I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?"
But answer came there none-
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

Put out a cigarette.
Lite a new one.
Take a shower.
Drink some coffee.
Quick brush of the teeth.

This is how John Carpenter starts his day.

Start the truck.
Lite a cigarette.
Drive.
Drive.
Lite a new cigarette.
Drive.

This is how John Carpenter goes to work.

Check in with the boss.
Sit down at typewriter.
Lite a cigarette.
Think.
Type.
Type.
Lite a cigarette.
Type.
Type.
Lite a cigarette.
Type.
Type.
Type.
Think.
Stretch.
Lite a cigarette.
Type.

This is how John Carpenter spend the first hour at work.

Repeat seven times.

Check out with boss.
Start the truck.
Lite a cigarette.
Drive.
Drive.
Lite another cigarette.
Drive.

This is how John Carpenter drives home.

Take off his coat.
Lite a cigarette.
Feed the dog.
Cook a steak.
Drink a beer.
Eat the steak.
Drink another beer.
Lite a cigarette.
Watch the ballgame.
Lite another cigarette.
Lite four or five more throughout the game.
Quick brush of the teeth.
Lite a cigarette.
Read.
Read.
Read.
Lite another.
Read.
Read.
Drink some brandy.
Fall asleep.

This is how John Carpenter spends his evening.

Repeat all of this 7,304 times.

This is how John Carpenter spends his life.

And when he has smoked enough cigarettes for a lifetime
and read enough for a life time
and eaten enough steak
and drank enough brandy and beer
and written enough novels
for a lifetime
he will die.
And only Mary Stein will miss him.

Hearts hurt this mourning, echoes quiet grief

For a husband-father slipped beyond autumn’s leaf

Into winter’s winds so harsh, who can bear the pains?

Yesterday his nearness felt today only his remains.

Remember love like it was, unbroken   circles knew

Life’s smoothness for time as it was, he and you

Recall family’s happiness given each a measure

A Carpenter of Scripture cradles a carpenter your treasure.

(3/6/12)

His future had been laid- for he was a carpenter by trade.
Just as a carpenter can mold anything out of wood
He could mold mans hearts and souls into good.

He would mold mans hearts with accurate precision
For this was his fathers decision.
He came to mold all the hearts of mankind
And open the eyes of the blind.

The world would come to know him as the king of kings
And see all the love that he would bring.
Throughout the centuries it will be told
He is the master craftsman of the heart and soul.

Now when we feel a tingle of  sensation
And a wanting to get more of inspiration
Look for the craftsman who could mold
The hearts and souls of man
To give you a helping hand.

when he made the heart of man
He left a corner deep within
Where the love for him can forever grow
And his love you could show.

Let all who know you - know this carpenter man
Who from evil he took his stand.
He has entered in you to mold you from the inside out
So you would know what loves about.

© L .RAMS

(3/6/12)

His future had been laid- for he was a carpenter by trade.
Just as a carpenter can mold anything out of wood
He could mold mans hearts and souls into good.

He would mold mans hearts with accurate precision
For this was his fathers decision.
He came to mold all the hearts of mankind
And open the eyes of the blind.

The world would come to know him as the king of kings
And see all the love that he would bring.
Throughout the centuries it will be told
He is the master craftsman of the heart and soul.

Now when we feel a tingle of  sensation
And a wanting to get more of inspiration
Look for the craftsman who could mold
The hearts and souls of man
To give you a helping hand.

when he made the heart of man
He left a corner deep within
Where the love for him can forever grow
And his love you could show.

Let all who know you - know this carpenter man
Who from evil he took his stand.
He has entered in you to mold you from the inside out
So you would know what loves about.

THE PROLOGUE.

When that the Knight had thus his tale told
In all the rout was neither young nor old,
That he not said it was a noble story,
And worthy to be drawen to memory;                          recorded
And namely the gentles every one.          especially the gentlefolk
Our Host then laugh'd and swore, "So may I gon,                prosper
This goes aright; unbuckled is the mail;        the budget is opened
Let see now who shall tell another tale:
For truely this game is well begun.
Now telleth ye, Sir Monk, if that ye conne,                       *know
Somewhat, to quiten with the Knighte's tale."                    match
The Miller that fordrunken was all pale,
So that unnethes upon his horse he sat,                with difficulty
He would avalen neither hood nor hat,                          uncover
Nor abide no man for his courtesy,                         give way to
But in Pilate's voice he gan to cry,
And swore by armes, and by blood, and bones,
"I can a noble tale for the nones                            occasion,
With which I will now quite the Knighte's tale."                 match
Our Host saw well how drunk he was of ale,
And said; "Robin, abide, my leve brother,                         dear
Some better man shall tell us first another:
Abide, and let us worke thriftily."
By Godde's soul," quoth he, "that will not I,
For I will speak, or elles go my way!"
Our Host answer'd; "Tell on a devil way;             *devil take you!
Thou art a fool; thy wit is overcome."
"Now hearken," quoth the Miller, "all and some:
But first I make a protestatioun.
That I am drunk, I know it by my soun':
And therefore if that I misspeak or say,
Wite it the ale of Southwark, I you pray:             blame it on
For I will tell a legend and a life
Both of a carpenter and of his wife,
How that a clerk hath set the wrighte's cap."   fooled the carpenter
The Reeve answer'd and saide, "Stint thy clap,      hold your tongue
Let be thy lewed drunken harlotry.
It is a sin, and eke a great folly
To apeiren* any man, or him defame,                              injure
And eke to bringe wives in evil name.
Thou may'st enough of other thinges sayn."
This drunken Miller spake full soon again,
And saide, "Leve brother Osewold,
Who hath no wife, he is no cuckold.
But I say not therefore that thou art one;
There be full goode wives many one.
Why art thou angry with my tale now?
I have a wife, pardie, as well as thou,
Yet *n'old I, for the oxen in my plough,                  I would not
Taken upon me more than enough,
To deemen* of myself that I am one;                               judge
I will believe well that I am none.
An husband should not be inquisitive
Of Godde's privity, nor of his wife.
So he may finde Godde's foison there,                         treasure
Of the remnant needeth not to enquere."

What should I more say, but that this Millere
He would his wordes for no man forbear,
But told his churlish tale in his mannere;               boorish, rude
Me thinketh, that I shall rehearse it here.
And therefore every gentle wight I pray,
For Godde's love to deem not that I say
Of evil intent, but that I must rehearse
Their tales all, be they better or worse,
Or elles falsen some of my mattere.                            falsify
And therefore whoso list it not to hear,
Turn o'er the leaf, and choose another tale;
For he shall find enough, both great and smale,
Of storial thing that toucheth gentiless,             historical, true
And eke morality and holiness.
Blame not me, if that ye choose amiss.
The Miller is a churl, ye know well this,
So was the Reeve, with many other mo',
And harlotry they tolde bothe two.                        ribald tales
Avise you* now, and put me out of blame;                    be warned
And eke men should not make earnest of game.                 *jest, fun

Notes to the Prologue to the Miller's Tale

1. Pilate, an unpopular personage in the mystery-plays of the
middle ages, was probably represented as having a gruff, harsh
voice.

2. Wite: blame; in Scotland, "to bear the wyte," is to bear the
blame.

THE TALE.

Whilom there was dwelling in Oxenford
A riche gnof, that guestes held to board,   miser *took in boarders
And of his craft he was a carpenter.
With him there was dwelling a poor scholer,
Had learned art, but all his fantasy
Was turned for to learn astrology.
He coude* a certain of conclusions                                 knew
To deeme by interrogations,                                  determine
If that men asked him in certain hours,
When that men should have drought or elles show'rs:
Or if men asked him what shoulde fall
Of everything, I may not reckon all.

This clerk was called Hendy Nicholas;                 gentle, handsome
Of derne love he knew and of solace;                   secret, earnest
And therewith he was sly and full privy,
And like a maiden meek for to see.
A chamber had he in that hostelry
Alone, withouten any company,
Full *fetisly y-dight with herbes swoot,            neatly decorated
And he himself was sweet as is the root                           *sweet
Of liquorice, or any setewall.                                valerian
His Almagest, and bookes great and small,
His astrolabe,  belonging to his art,
His augrim stones, layed fair apart
On shelves couched at his bedde's head,                      laid, set
His press y-cover'd with a falding red.                   coarse cloth
And all above there lay a gay psalt'ry
On which he made at nightes melody,
So sweetely, that all the chamber rang:
And Angelus ad virginem he sang.
And after that he sung the kinge's note;
Full often blessed was his merry throat.
And thus this sweete clerk his time spent
After *his friendes finding and his rent.    Attending to his friends,
                                                   and providing for the
                                                    cost of his lodging
This carpenter had wedded new a wife,
Which that he loved more than his life:
Of eighteen year, I guess, she was of age.
Jealous he was, and held her narr'w in cage,
For she was wild and young, and he was old,
And deemed himself belike* a cuckold.                           perhaps
He knew not Cato, for his wit was rude,
That bade a man wed his similitude.
Men shoulde wedden after their estate,
For youth and eld are often at debate.                             age
But since that he was fallen in the snare,
He must endure (as other folk) his care.
Fair was this younge wife, and therewithal
As any weasel her body gent and small.                      slim, neat
A seint she weared, barred all of silk,                         girdle
A barm-cloth eke as white as morning milk                     apron
Upon her lendes, full of many a gore.                  ***** *plait
White was her smock, and broider'd all before,            robe or gown
And eke behind, on her collar about
Of coal-black silk, within and eke without.
The tapes of her white volupere                      head-kerchief
Were of the same suit of her collere;
Her fillet broad of silk, and set full high:
And sickerly* she had a likerous eye.          certainly *lascivious
Full small y-pulled were her browes two,
And they were bent, and black as any sloe.                      arched
She was well more blissful on to see           pleasant to look upon
Than is the newe perjenete* tree;                       young pear-tree
And softer than the wool is of a wether.
And by her girdle hung a purse of leather,
Tassel'd with silk, and *pearled with latoun.   set with brass pearls
In all this world to seeken up and down
There is no man so wise, that coude thenche            fancy, think of
So gay a popelot, or such a *****.                          puppet
Full brighter was the shining of her hue,
Than in the Tower the noble* forged new.                a gold coin
But of her song, it was as loud and yern,                  lively
As any swallow chittering on a bern.                              barn
Thereto she coulde skip, and make a game                 also *romp
As any kid or calf following his dame.
Her mouth was sweet as braket, or as methe                    mead
Or hoard of apples, laid in hay or heath.
Wincing* she was as is a jolly colt,                           skittish
Long as a mast, and upright as a bolt.
A brooch she bare upon her low collere,
As broad as is the boss of a bucklere.
Her shoon were laced on her legges high;
She was a primerole, a piggesnie ,                        primrose
For any lord t' have ligging in his bed,                         lying
Or yet for any good yeoman to wed.

Now, sir, and eft sir, so befell the case,                       again
That on a day this Hendy Nicholas
Fell with this younge wife to rage and play,       toy, play the rogue
While that her husband was at Oseney,
As clerkes be full subtle and full quaint.
And privily he caught her by the queint,                          ****
And said; "Y-wis, but if I have my will,                     assuredly
For *derne love of thee, leman, I spill."     for earnest love of thee
And helde her fast by the haunche bones,          my mistress, I perish
And saide "Leman, love me well at once,
Or I will dien, all so God me save."
And she sprang as a colt doth in the trave:
And with her head she writhed fast away,
And said; "I will not kiss thee, by my fay.                      faith
Why let be," quoth she,

A carpenter was given task;
nobody thought it could be done. 
A bridge that spanned eternity 
was priority number one. 

This carpenter, he had no tools;
materials he had so few.
Yet without doubt he set to work- 
he knew just what he had to do. 

With two great beams of solid wood, 
fastened in a criss-cross fashion,
and three old nails, wrought of iron,
completed his fateful mission. 

He had worked with a crew of twelve, 
but in the end, he toiled as one. 
Regardless, he had kept the course,
and labored til the bridge was done.. 

He never had union backing, 
and was never properly paid. 
Where other workers would have quit, 
this carpenter would not be swayed. 

Now, in the end, his blood and sweat, 
the bridge's strong foundation made. 
The final sacrifice of  life 
made sure its timeless glory stayed.

There is no toll to cross this bridge; 
the price was paid in blessed blood. 
Who'd have thought a bridge to heaven 
could be made from a cross of wood?

oh, these messages, you send,
invitations to a gala, a black tie affair,
but only if willingly pay the exorbitant fare,
your money's no good, you must dare,
find and write the poem hid within

how cold are the carpenter's hands,
the weather, but an added obstacle,
this heat, makes dying different difficult,
the wood bearing cross requires additional nails
and flesh, for the extra load he's bearing,
when it snows blood in Jerusalem

the whole world can transition
when one man dies and another is risen,
where oh where lies then, the juxtaposition?

there is none, for man is man,
his divine spark, embedded,
to his maker's mark, wedded,
neither snow or sun,
can ever, either, extinguish*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
any message you send can and will be turned into a poem

Thank you ~
for a life not to trade
blessings, in spades
tight spaces
behind laundry doors
packed closets
and open drawers
gator tails, tarnished brass
cracks in kitchen sliding glass
wet towels, withering plants
foundation filled
with carpenter ants
buckets piled with
shoes and tags
village clothes
and saddlebags
peeling paint
and broken walls
****** seats
in bathroom stalls
clogged pantry
frigid rooms
table scribe
and carbon fumes
comfort capsules
empty tanks
broken limbs
from children’s pranks
**** finger
double tongue
long goodbyes
and sidewalk dung
cluster flies
chavie’ clique
accompanying
the hypocrite
cracked back
and hidden smiles
chalk on board
with mr miles
atomic wedgies
closing doors
wrotten eggs
and open sores
jaw jack
nasty folk
dinner calls
for pig in poke
penny pinchers
double dip
yellow mouth
and silver tip
brown nosers
thick red tape
paper cuts
and pimple nape
gallivants
so out of norm
the joy of life…
in basic form

In the 1970s there was a wave of soft pop that struck America
one band at the crest of that wave was The Carpenters
formed by Richard and Karen Carpenter
they were wildly successful
their song We’ve Only Just Begun is still a ubiquitous wedding song
Karen’s smooth and pure voice drew giant crowds
but despite how timeless her music is
it is equally contrasted by the briefness of her life.

Karen captivated a worldwide audience with her music
but some people just can’t be reached
indoctrinated by our superficial society
thinking every celebrity should be a supermodel
critics made snide comments about her being Richard’s chubby sister
even though she wasn’t overweight
and Richard was addicted to Quaaludes
but even more important than the public was Karen’s own mother
who worried of the public’s feelings more than her own daughter’s.

Karen felt pushed to lose weight
so she hired a nutritionist
who loaded her down with carbohydrates
which obviously made her fatter
crushing her faith in nutrition
turning her towards unhealthy methods
...which worked...at first...
but unfortunately it kept working
and she refused to change, unlike her body.

Fans who once cheered for her
now gasped when they saw her emaciated skeleton take the stage
they thought she might’ve had cancer
and were concerned about her weight
but to her it was the same crowd telling her to lose weight
now telling her to gain weight
she was done hearing it
and stuck in her ways.

Her friends were worried about her
and pleaded for her to seek help
but her mother’s profession was repression
so Karen hid her depression
while her mother told her psychiatrists were for crazy people.

Karen tried using a man to make her problems disappear
and married Tom Burris two months after meeting him in 1980
he would verbally abuse her; calling her a bag of bones
then he’d *** money off her; amounts up to $50,000 at a time
needless to say the relationship was ill fated
and they divorced in 1981.

Finally Karen’s friends convinced her to see a therapist
who brought her family into a counseling session
and urged them to tell Karen they love her
of course Richard was willing to say so, they were always really close
especially after Karen had helped him with his own addiction issues
but Karen’s mother refused
berating the therapist for using her first name; Agnes
and informing him that wasn’t how their family did things.

Karen Carpenter passed away February 4, 1982 at the age of 32
she died from ipecac poisoning
she used the substance to induce vomiting every day
and it slowly dissolved her heart.

Richard was devastated.

There’s not much I can add
I guess Karen’s story speaks for itself
it just ****** me off critics jeer with impunity and without empathy
they’re free to cajole great artists while having no value themselves
driving artists away until we’re only left with negativity
it makes me want to cut out all the demons’ razor sharp tongues
before they get a taste of another angel’s wings
but would that really protect those angels
if they’re born to demons?

I could have been a carpenter
With a callus on my hand
Or a marina worker
With my feet inside the sand
I could have been a historian
With glasses and a globe
But I’m just a lowly laborer
And my bones are getting old

I could have had a bank account
With lots cash and dough
Or a white picket fence
And I’d watch my green grass grow
I could have been successful
With sleep and no stress
But I chose dreams and passions
And still I feel I’m blessed

I could have never met you
With your big red sixties hair
Or could have never shared a night
In the starlight of your stare
I could have never known the truth
Lived my life a lie
But honesty has found me
Loving ‘til I die

I could have never realized
What a lucky lad I am
Or could have never battled
For what I believe in
I could have given up on it all
And laid down in defeat
But my love you do inspire
Me out onto the streets

I could have been a carpenter
With a hammer and a nail
I could have been a fireman
With a hard hat and a pale
I could have been lot of things
For there’s so much to be
But if I had to pick on one
I would pick on me

The Warden roused them early
on this, their final day.
He marched them out on hobbled feet-
Grey trucks took them away.

Doctors, lawyers, engineers,
All captured in a raid.
German Soldiers had been killed
Reprisals must be made..

Fathers, Husbands, sons all caught
within the **** snare.
Among them was a carpenter
Who bowed his head in prayer.

He’d walk the hills of Rome no more
Nor touch a lover’s cheek.
Here, near the Via Appia
He’d find eternal sleep.

Five by five they entered in
to the foreboding cave.
There they knelt for benediction,
the kind that pistols gave.

The cave became a charnel house
Each man shot in the head.
It reeked of blood and excrement
Flies feasted on the dead.

The carpenter fell once or twice.
Can blood for blood atone? .
His killers coveted his coat
and forced him to disrobe.

By now they had grown sloppy
with drink and hate and fear.
The first shot missed completely
The second grazed his ear.

In seconds live eternities
He said his final prayer:
“Forgive them, Father, even this
done out of hate and fear

several shots rang out just then
each found his noble head
they shot him once more, in his side
to make sure he was dead.


Explosions rocked and sealed the cave
With tons of rock and stone
They didn’t think to post a guard
The grey trucks drove back home.