"barbarians" poems
In your vision you are the only thing with bloodshot eyes.
You always wear a robe
that speaks seven languages... and a bank of fog is at your feet
nipping at your naked heel.
In your vision you remember how your arms feel in sunshine.
It is intense.
Your can-opener is hissing an etude
that alludes to wise men...
who bathe in miracles
and roam the world,
untarnished in Poverty.
Your can-opener whispers in hush tones
about barbarians at the gate. And they say
' they've come for the Linen ! '
You are not deceived.
In your vision you are the only thing that can backward engineer
a Universe.
On your way back to the homeland of your algebra
you hesitate. “ you may have left your keys in your Other Robe...”
The Robe that hallucinates constantly~ Carrying on about
' The dire consequences of leaving terrycloth alone with the keys '
and, afflicted with Prophesy Tourettes
the piteous tide of doom ' sayeth the robe '
you must suffer.
In your vision, you are the only one
looking for the keys.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 5:09 PM UTC
*I was a princess.
Long before the burden of knowledge --
before the reality of life plunged itself deep into me.
Tea parties and *****
Gowns and pretty jewels,
Braids and long lashes,
We were the rulers of the kingdom.
Walls constructed of plastic kept us safe,
security from the barbarians that lurked outside.
A magic mirror that warped and bent from age,
from magic, to show your future,
which was often a short fat lady.
Thrones that swung back and forth,
so that her majesty does not bore herself.
We guarded our kingdom from the evil outside...
but we forgot to check within our walls.
At some age, we stopped guarding the plastic kingdom.
We stopped looking for the monsters outside --
realizing they were lurking inside of us...
whispering dark things.
Now Aurora is sleeping off a hangover --
that beautiful face streaked with wet mascara
maybe when she wakes up, everything will be better?
Ella is hiding from loan sharks,
wishing for a way out of the slums,
hoping a rich man will sweep her off her feet.
Ariel is running away from home
changing her identity for her new boyfriend,
desperate that no one will come between them.
Snow is sleeping with several men --
mommy issues ran her out of town,
now she's the walking herself to the abortion clinic.
Princesses we were.
Princesses we are.
Princesses we will be.*
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
Howls in the night
cross the threshold of savagery
Coordinated hate
of a hundred jackboots
stomping faces in the streets
Storefronts smashed
Crushed glass crunching
under the feet of unbridled violence
Doors bashed in
Swinging sledges smash
Women and children dragged
kicking and screaming from their homes
Beaten unconscious
then beaten while unconscious
Clothes rended
flesh roughly groped
******* mashed
by laughing barbarians
with teeth made of knives
Innocence of a generation *****
in a single evening
Ransacking hands
strangle the wealth of a culture
One thousand synagogues in flames
light cast magnified in the carpet of crystals
sparkle of hellish brilliance
Ninety one lives snuffed
they were the lucky ones
Avoided the camps
where greater horrors were wrought
in the forges of torment
from the pounding of flesh
beneath hatred like hammers
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 8:27 AM UTC
Did any flower bloom, in your garden today, check out now
Love alone is the flower with fragrance, don't water the rest.
An year reigned is dead, the overcast sky clearly proclaims
A dark shroud covers the sky, hiding the good cheer we need.
Alone, I climb up the winding road to the hilltop, to view
The sunset, it reminds the past year of painful events
The skyline looks blood smeared, from a corner fire erupts
Making hate the recurring motif, what's happening to the world?
Technologies to share information is no good, if we aren't sane.
If we use that to sow evil seeds of hatred, poison spreads.
Life turns a mess, all the wealth has no meaning without peace.
Are we not ashamed to be vengeful like barbarians, **** each other?
Didn't Gandhi prove, nonviolence is the weapon against brute force?
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
Genau, enow, enough
after the confusion,
we all could make a sound, okeh,
yeah
and we still
knew a shaken head or hand or fist
had meaning beyond words and noise
my words, their noise, barbarians all, but my
loved ones, still,
my nana Even , none could say a meaningful word
Ah, papa Eber, eber he be waving sayin'
Shhhhlome. wow. a word, I was
re connected re tied re ligamented re tendoned
re nerved re *****
re bled
re breathed
inspire me, expire me, think me immaterial, no mattah
nomattatall we stick together, gone bealright
begrudge me not a bit o'livit ity, a st-utter here'n'there
words, in wars, we always win. We are war's
raison d'etre, as they say, its
rational grounds for existence, its
excuse for being.
words are the instigators, provocateurs
no wordless insult results in war,
words are needed,
otherwise
fugitabowdit, how long? Seven times? 490 times?
no,
once, each time, no more.
enoughs the evil enoughs enow.
the weapons of our warfare, how can I say,
watch
we see salient leapers trampling the vintage, seeping
from the heel wound in the beguiler's head.
That's results.
Angels sing and dance, they never tremble in the night,
the hope we never lost,
we just forgot, they remember as if it were the same,
yes, today, forever
they whisper,
go on,
there's more to living than meets the eye.
enough has always had a plural, ask Sam Johnson.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
The night was passing, and the Grecian host
By no means sought to issue forth unseen.
But when indeed the day with her white steeds
Held all the earth, resplendent to behold,
First from the Greeks the loud-resounding din
Of song triumphant came; and shrill at once
Echo responded from the island rock.
Then upon all barbarians terror fell,
Thus disappointed; for not as for flight
The Hellenes sang the holy pæan then,
But setting forth to battle valiantly.
The bugle with its note inflamed them all;
And straightway with the dip of plashing oars
They smote the deep sea water at command,
And quickly all were plainly to be seen.
Their right wing first in orderly array
Led on, and second all the armament
Followed them forth; and meanwhile there was heard
A mighty shout: "Come, O ye sons of Greeks,
Make free your country, make your children free,
Your wives, and fanes of your ancestral gods,
And your sires' tombs! For all we now contend!"
And from our side the rush of Persian speech
Replied. No longer might the crisis wait.
At once ship smote on ship with brazen beak;
A vessel of the Greeks began the attack,
Crushing the stem of a Phoenician ship.
Each on a different vessel turned its prow.
At first the current of the Persian host
Withstood; but when within the strait the throng
Of ships was gathered, and they could not aid
Each other, but by their own brazen bows
Were struck, they shattered all our naval host.
The Grecian vessels not unskillfully
Were smiting round about; the hulls of ships
Were overset; the sea was hid from sight,
Covered with wreckage and the death of men;
The reefs and headlands were with corpses filled,
And in disordered flight each ship was rowed,
As many as were of the Persian host.
But they, like tunnies or some shoal of fish,
With broken oars and fragments of the wrecks
Struck us and clove us; and at once a cry
Of lamentation filled the briny sea,
Till the black darkness' eye did rescue us.
The number of our griefs, not though ten days
I talked together, could I fully tell;
But this know well, that never in one day
Perished so great a multitude of men.
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The machinesed drones droning ozones
made of homogenised genes by replicants
from clinical doctrines and empirical indulgences
Soulless and efficient, bred for duties destructives
Capitalist fodder, programmed ready for earth's ****
Regulate as required, inputted subs with pigs hearts
Made followers with voracious appetite for blood
mechanised barbarians on leash with one track mix
Human shire horses in designer shods and faulty gauges
Manufactured manufacturers limited and corollated
Factories, dormitories partnered with like, watered
and bedded till tomorrow, audiod to the Sterling whip
Given ample ales, keep blinded and chained
Distract and cater to baser instincts, *** *** ***
Free 'love' free *** valueless values, what values
Enjoy kids must return to work desk seven on the dot
Time is money, clogs and production
waits for no man, do or your pleasures denied
Money, money money, honey for bees, honey for drones
Soulless, dehumanised, pale, aged at thirty, heart attacks next
Vacuous ghost programmed dunces
Malfunctioning entities devoid of humanity
Superficial plasticated robots, destruction default
Industrial pieces with industrial minds
Chemicalized drunks with wired brains
They roam around screaming freedom and power!
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
What a name! what a joy! To have her called by Mrs yours,
What a beauty! to load over a a man,
Nayanoi is the name, brought up by a mother who is embedded to tradition,
It carries all fame and this is not a game but another ingredient to tame monstrous heart union.
There is indeed touching love after perennial failures,
Rejection over rejections builts emotion-shielded heart,
It kills dangerous emotions,it destroys
barbarians.
Such is life, don't you know,
Nayanoi demonstrated the saying,
Marrying a man not for money but love,
I have came to admire the Maa community,
They don't fake around they are what they are.
Unlike ******** who are really cheap indoors,
But fear displaying it in full glare of our cameras
Nayanoi won my heart, As a true African woman,
She is the wife of my kinsman.
Am not lusting for her, she deserve all the earthly praises,
A woman sired and raised perfectly,
She wears all the smiles in her face,
Knowing she is a beauty queen and not a braggart.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 11:23 AM UTC
There is a point in everyone's lives
Where they wake up screaming
To discover they haven't been sleeping
And then they go to sleep
And can't wake up
God's humor is a punchline
Of straight faced barbarians
In the shapes of a funnel cloud
That coughs up battle hymns
Like pieces of tuberculosis
Love is chemical reactions
That bounce off the walls of your brain
Like children playing pong
That will lose their virginity to each other
He died when she left
Women are works of art
That are made of the bruises of an apple
And the sweet parts are cut out
Like the passages in the Bible
That the priest won't read on Sundays
Who's afraid of Charlie Darwin?
Was on the sidewalk in chalk
And every pedestrian walked by
And walked into a war zone
While a mutt licked the words disappeared
Apr 22, 2011
Apr 22, 2011 at 3:12 PM UTC
What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?
The barbarians are due here today.
Why isn't anything happening in the senate?
Why do the senators sit there without legislating?
Because the barbarians are coming today.
What laws can the senators make now?
Once the barbarians are here, they'll do the legislating.
Why did our emperor get up so early,
and why is he sitting at the city's main gate
on his throne, in state, wearing the crown?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and the emperor is waiting to receive their leader.
He has even prepared a scroll to give him,
replete with titles, with imposing names.
Why have our two consuls and praetors come out today
wearing their embroidered, their scarlet togas?
Why have they put on bracelets with so many amethysts,
and rings sparkling with magnificent emeralds?
Why are they carrying elegant canes
beautifully worked in silver and gold?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and things like that dazzle the barbarians.
Why don't our distinguished orators come forward as usual
to make their speeches, say what they have to say?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and they're bored by rhetoric and public speaking.
Why this sudden restlessness, this confusion?
(How serious people's faces have become.)
Why are the streets and squares emptying so rapidly,
everyone going home so lost in thought?
Because night has fallen and the barbarians have not come.
And some who have just returned from the border say
there are no barbarians any longer.
And now, what's going to happen to us without barbarians?
They were, those people, a kind of solution.
2.4k
after watching
the videos of children and humans
striving for a breath
their bodies limp
from a saran attack
I would strap my *** to
a cruise missile
after getting a tattoo
all over my body saying
Assad
this is for you!
It was sickening
beastlike satanic
and I cried
my stomach wretched
I shuddered
here this world is
in the 21st century
and some of us
are still barbarians
I pray
we listen to the
little girl some
call the Syrian
Anne Frank
my heart breaks
again
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 9:26 PM UTC
I used to always say you were my home.
Whenever I got lost to follow my heart and id be right back to you.
You used to say if I laid on my right you would always be on your left.
When I sought comfort I would lay among.
I used to always say you would be around forever
When I was lonely I thought of our future.
I always used to save you saved me
Whenever I was hurt to listen to your voice
But you're gone now
I'm lost and I can't find my way home
My heart torn and broken always leads me where I cannot go
My right side is now a place of pain
I can not lay on that wrecked side without crying
You're gone forever
I don't know if we'll ever have a future
The barbarians of my mind start to overcome my sanity
And the your voice is the only weapon to defeat them
You may come back and you may not.
All I know is nothing will be the same in the story of my mind
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
On watching Indian Polity
Such was my country twenty-one Summers ago
In a starry night I ,with my wife Prema young
Walked along the road of midnight Mysore slow
As snow veil clad chilling breeze rippled along.
No ****** , drunkard, rowdy, as hyenas did draw
No clique with camera to strip or **** did throng
An auto -driver so friendly took us to a lodge; so
Gladly with son Sudev we enjoyed Dassara song .
Now, in every city , I fancy , Sahasralinga’s attacks
From Bars with bars such barbarians may pounce
As executive dread such law-breakers to punish.
Political aspirants languid sit in and pronounce
In Parliament to protect the culprits from barracks
Deceiving democrats and putting them in anguish.
======================================
Note: Prema: name of wife; Sudev: name of baby(son). Sahasralinga: nickname of Indra /Devendra.(King of Devas who live in luxury. Parliament: the legislative building. Mysore: the city in Karnataka,India former capital of Mysore kings. Dassara:a state festival in Karnataka,
==========================================
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 6:37 AM UTC
Why are people born, brought to bear pain,
or pain built and barred "burying" we barbarians?
You would think cavemen could sing more than
Grunts--open your mouths and voice the ears!
The frags hum louder than your joyous day,
a time you sprint from gas and gears.
I'd like to see that, please my men,
so I often--always--ask us, "When?"
Oct 26, 2010
Oct 26, 2010 at 12:22 PM UTC
We shall not ask for the precious pearl of the Duke of Sui,
nor for the priceless jade disk of Master **
We merely ask for the recent news of our homeland.
The Palace of Spiritual Illumination must be still there,
surrounded by desolation.
What's happened to the stone statues buried deep in the grass,
still guarding the Imperial tombs?
Is it true that our people left behind in the occupied territories
are still planting mulberry trees and hemp?
Is it true that the rear guard of the Barbarians
only patrols the city walls?
This widow's father and grandfather were born in Shantung.
Although they never held high office, their fame spread far and wide.
I remember when they carried on animated discussions
with other scholars by the city gate.
The listeners were so crowded that their sweat fell like rain.
Their offspring crossed the Yangtze River to the South many years ago.
Drifting in the rapids, they mingled with refugees.
I send blood-stained tears to the mountains and rivers of home,
And sprinkle a cup of earth on East Mountain.
I imagine when Your Lordship, His Majesty's envoy, upholding the Imperial spirit,
passes through our two capitals, K'ai Feng and Lo Yang,
Thousands of people would line the streets and present tea and broth
to welcome you....
Announce that the Emperor's heart aches for the suffering people---
they are his own children.
Let them understand that the Will of Heaven remembers all living beings.
Our sagacious Emperor offers his trust which is as brilliant as the sun.
There is no need to negotiate many times after the long chaos of the years.
1.8k
Matches and fires, sticks with barbed wires;
Chaos and fear run happily and free.
Great big men in suits, and other liars,
Will be the first amongst you who will flee.
But amongst the chaos you see a group of hands;
You see they are locked; strong and unbreakable.
Barbarians smash their legs where they stand;
But peace can never be broken so long as to it you are faithful.
Those without fear and hatred, only love,
Will stand together and watch as their group grows.
Through all the hatred, rises a dove
And as she flies, you will see that evil hath froze.
But this can never happen so long as we hate;
Imagine the power and the difference we could make.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
times are tough
more than ever;
bills come at the speed of bullets
taxes gather like summer flies
and debts ricochet against our walls;
the banks want more and more
but there's just air in our pockets
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
the jobs dry up and
the dollars dwindle into cents;
permanent becomes temp
and temp becomes non-existent;
full-time goes into part-time
and part-time into casual
and casual into zilch
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
nature conspires with the economy,
sweetheart:
she sends rains and fire and landslides;
she claws sands off the beaches and
all we have left are
government ******** and *******
who care a hoot about our fish and chips
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
time's not on our side either, sweetheart;
mind you, with mighty puffed cheeks
he blows H1N1 flu round the globe
and so sends people and customers away
and those who remain turn cheap and nasty
and all these pigs want are discounts and freebies
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
the collection agencies are knocking, dear -
it sounds much like the knock of death
in Beethoven's ninth;
the mortgage barbarians are on their horses
and they send writs and auction threats
and re-possessions
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
O hang on, sweetheart,
hang on tight:
many will fall, many will bleed
but those who hang on tight
and those who can love
those who can dream together
they will ride the nights out into clear day
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 8:30 PM UTC
Spectral watchers envision the horizon
It knows quite what is to come next
Storm such abrupt it cries out as Poseidon
The barbarians pound their chest
Pretty grass grows so well after rainfall
Love is smelt as Spring had come
Pretty people grow out of soils to crawl
The silvery love enchanted all numb
Precious seeds had given
All to be a waste for
Wasted only day by day
But seeds can sprout from Sun-ray
Sun's ray
Sun's ray
Sprout the seed
Some day
Sun's ray
Sun's ray
Sprout the seed
Some day
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 1:15 AM UTC
I was angry when I saw her dancing.
She had no right.
Just last night she danced with me,
turning blues to pomegranates
and stepping on the seeds.
She walked through my corridors
(dim lights, bright-eyed)
painting the walls with broken expectations.
She whispered like a secret
she was now laying bare
at the tongues of anxious barbarians.
This morning her hips repulsed me,
churning smiles from grizzle
and burning coffee beans.
She had no right.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC
I have a store full
of old things, it is difficult
to ensure
that they are not sold
to snobs with no idea
of their real value
without the slightest idea
that it cannot be expressed
in their money
only in tax money, annually
to be collected for maintenance
and everything that comes with it
to have the works viewed
by those who are interested
and that can be anyone
which is hard to accept
for barbarians who get rich
from constant replacement
Sep 17, 2022
Sep 17, 2022 at 3:39 AM UTC
I shall conquer you with honeyed words
and occupy the wonders within your walls
without the use of my unmighty hands;
I shall conquer you a hundred years.
Many are the wonders built by men,
such majestic beauty unimaginable
but I voted you as the most wondrous.
Now, I shall conquer you a hundred years.
Rome defied dozens of the odds,
the barbarians defying what they've defied
burying them deep, yet and still,
I still desire to conquer you a hundred years.
Standing in the half of East and West
the center of trade and glowing in wonders.
You are the Constantinople to my Turk
and she remained conquered for a hundred years.
I will besiege your frail heart
and be part of my growing dominion,
cultivating to be the best of you.
For that I shall conquer you a hundred years.
We belligerents may be of diverse faiths
my skin scorched brown from the natures of war.
yet that shall not hinder my besieging.
Now, shall I conquer you a hundred years?
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC
And some slept,
And some dreamt,
And some made their way into the world
Logical, rational, enforced lives
that all added up.
And I never realized when the silver bullet missed me,
my chance for immortality gone
I had thought of some days
I am nowadays glad to just see through days.
I live in full fiction
Where goddesses walk right into your arms
and superlative co-incidences mean something.
Where physical attraction is justifiable and
hormones understand each other
across bodies.
I have loved you,
however immaterial my love maybe to the rest of you
and the circumstances
I will love you
till I find meaning
and thousands of barbarians invade across millions of
homes, unsuspecting
where the disease of one human mind reaches
and surpasses all minds .
Where I finally get mad
and act on it.
There are some stories I haven't heard.
You can tell me a few of those
on my way to the mad-house.
I have a shelf full of unread books
and with every day of disappointment
the shelf keeps piling up.
I at-least hope that in my non fictional existence
One day, you will read my feelings
even though, you won't necessarily act on them.
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
When Adam and Eve played love's old game
We thought early romance a little too rough
We wanted kinder and gentler rules
We looked at it good and added our touch
We turned it sideways and looked at some Masters
Cleopatra and Marcus, Burton and Liz
We looked through history and weighed each technique...
Studying hers and studying his
We re-invented love
Applied TLC without the big rush
Someone had to do it; it was way overdue
And no one gets in it quite like me and you
Making it perfect, re-inventing love
We wanted to see the sexes more equal
From Rome to Paris we studied their style
We watched new positions in old Kuma Sutra
In Mumbai and Murmansk to the banks of the Nile
Now when they ***** a great Hall of Fame
The applause will come down falling on us
They'll put our names upon a big plaque
Everyone marvelling and making a fuss
CHORUS
Bridge: Now the cave man technique is gone from romance
Barbarians no longer can come to the dance
CHORUS
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 7:30 PM UTC
Twenty-three and coming from my teens
I’ve developed along already categorized genes,
By those who think they know me,
When I’m only twenty-three with a molding mentality
I was once vicariously raised through parentally guided means
Socially slit by those that promised me prosperity if I was studious,
Taught the importance of individuality,
Yet forced to be obedient
Then indoctrinated with an educator’s prescription,
An addiction they picked up in a higher institution
I’m finding it hard to follow your lead, when you found nourishment in my youthful innocence,
Socially stitched through generationally fostered fixes
Notions that you could promise me providence,
I’ve been cradled in a crib riddled with termites
Time shows little sympathy for those who have yet to comprehend the promise of a six foot end,
Yet you trained me to believe you didn’t domesticate me
Despite being conceived in a place I was not well received,
You taught the importance of obedience
Yet I’m finding it hard to accept your ancestral credence,
When this place has been passed along bloodlines,
When my generationally guided grandparents' felt the final close of their eyes,
And left me a world pieced together by both atrocities and glimpses of humanity
I’m finding it hard to speak in a world with such narcissistic sympathies of the traditionally raised
Yet I’m socially sutured by the fact that I still breathe,
While being born in a place that once found stability through a slave trade,
A middle passage that led to a devious democracy
I’m so grateful we can mend what barbarians once began,
I’ve had time to age, enough to take the reins,
Though before we build our shrines of this age,
You can still pray for something beyond the grave,
Yet never forget how we've been stranded, left here to continue, or to fray,
To humanize a species that earth derived,
Or to let the braids of life untwine and give way,
During our generations' stay.
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 9:25 AM UTC
Those cosmopolitan provincials sorts
the chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains
them retro-grade grade-less sub-humans bottom feeders
who think Cardiff is in East Angular and Magaluf is Eden
and Higher Education begins in Borstal or a stint at HM Prisons
found by happenstance a tin of Caviar
something they'd never seen before
with the curiosity of practiced thieves
they proceeded to examine its worth
'its a tin of hair gel says one'
'No, no, no says another, I think its something you eat'
'it says Caviar Royal Beluga, observes another'
'throw it away, anything with a name like that is rubbish'
'Beluga...some foreign muck, it look dark and oily'
'yea mate, look like **** throw it away'
One of the dis-advantaged rabble with one O'level in Carpentry
took a closer look
'look he says, there's sticker on the bottom that reads
Caviar Royal Beluga – 1kg £3,780.00'
Hahahaha they all roared in ceaseless mirth, hahaha
'some joker is having a laugh, pull the other leg, fancy...
a tin of black gunge in some slimy stuff cost three grand,
must think people are born yesterday, Beluga..fuckoffluga'
And with that, they tossed the tin away and walked off
laughing like *********
Ignorance is a disease, ignorance is bliss
will vandals extol the sheer magnificence of a Constable
or see anything other than a chair in a Chippendale ribbonback chair,
will Barbarians shed a tear on hearing the sensuous notes of Chopin or shiver at the graceful notes of Debussy or melt in sheer
adoration as Tchaikovsky's romance soars in magical resonance.
Will cosmopolitan heathens gape in mesmerizing wonder on
seeing Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel and praise God for being alive
So who has great expectations of our dear cosmopolitan provincials sorts
those chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains
for in disparaging excellence
and rubbishing the noble and the exceptional
they make us appreciate more that we are blessed
and privileged
and do not have
semolina for brains
hey!
who would like some caviar
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 6:40 AM UTC