by Rudyard Kipling*

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' lazy at the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
‘Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!'
      Come you back to Mandalay,
      Where the old Flotilla lay:
      Can't you ‘ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the flyin'-fishes play,
      An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!

‘Er petticoat was yaller an' ‘er liggle cap was green,
An' ‘er name was Supi-yaw-lat–jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an ‘eathen idol's foot:
      Bloomin' idol made o' mud–
      Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd–
      Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed ‘er where she stud!
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the flyin'-fishes play,
      An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!

When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd *** ‘er little banjo an' she'd sing ‘Kulla-lo-lo!'
With ‘er arm upon my shoulder an' ‘er cheek agin my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.
      Elephints a'pilin' teak
      In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
      Where the silence ‘ung that ‘eavy you was ‘arf afraid to speak!
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the flyin'-fishes play,
      An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!

But that's all shove be'ind me–long ago an' fur away,
An' there ain't no ‘busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' ‘ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
‘If you've ‘eard the East a-callin', you won't never ‘eed naught else.'
      No! You won't ‘eed nothin' else
      But them spicy garlic smells,
      An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly-temple -bells;
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the flyin'-fishes play,
      An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted English drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho' I walks with fifty ‘ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin' but wot do they understand?
      Beefy face an' grubby ‘and–
      Law! Wot do they understand?
      I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the flyin'-fishes play,
      An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;*
For the temple-bells are callin', and' it's there that I would be–
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the old Flotilla lay,
      With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the flyin'-fishes play,
      An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!

Let us go, Oedipus, let me walk you
'Twixt towers reaching to heaven,
Where women are charged to be patient and perfect.
You will not stay upon your leash.

We walk through Mandalay, not Paris,
Where the women have no face.
'Tis but a siren of emergency
That sings to me.

What worth I am to you, Oedipus,
What worth am I to them?
When the footman holds my coat, and snickers,
What worth am I to them?

Every man is a piece of the continent!
She may love me for the dangers I have passed,
And I her that she did pity them,
But she cannot, now and forever.

And while the sun excludes me,
I am not them and they not I,
And the waters do not glisten,
She is their chattel and not mine.

I gaze upon her ornate face and sing,
Her eyes are pools of wonder that see me, and swing away.

I am older, I have sense,
Like Oedipus my King,
But when I see her ornate face
I very nearly sing.

After many lonely nights
In shirtsleeves and not silk,
I went to her, and said:
Here, take this silver, for my milk.

And she may have loved me once
But for my thought and sense,
I'm but a bumblebee today -
I left at some expense.

AT MANDALAY BAY ON THE VEGAS STRIP
AT A COUNTRY MUSIC CONCERT
FROM THE 32ND FLOOR A SHOOTER
OPENED FIRE ON THE CROWD


THE CONCERT GOERS RAN FOR COVER
THE BULLETS SOUNDED OUT LOUD


OUR WORLD HAS NOW BECOME VERY DANGEROUS
WITH OUR INNOCENCE TAKEN AWAY
THE VIOLENT ATTACKS NOW TAKING PLACE
HAVE BECOME OUR JUDGEMENT DAY



WHAT CAN WE DO TO STOP THIS EVIL
FOR INNOCENT LIVES ARE THE COST
BUT THESE LONE WOLFS STILL PERSIST
AND INNOCENT LIVES ARE LOST



THE FEAR AND TERROR THAT THEY SPREAD
WILL NEVER DESTROY OUR HEART
BECAUSE OUR PASSION FOR LOVE AND LIFE
OF OUR COMMUNITY WILL NEVER EVER PART  


OUR THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS ARE WITH
THE FAMILIES OF THIS EVIL ACT.

Philip Le Barr,
Was knock down by a car,
On the road to Mandalay.
He was knocked down again
By a dust cart in Spain
And again in Zanzibar.
So,
He travled at night
In the pale moon light
Away from the traffic growl
But terrible luck
He was hit by a duck
Driven by an owl.

This back-stage world is not for me.
why spend in shade the fleeting hours..
While out there lies a sunlit stage.
where I can roam among the flowers?
So in the morning when I view.
the cold and leaden light of day..
My mind departs this drizzling isle..
and takes the road to Mandalay.
Now in the dawn the city looks,
with all the silver mist that shrouds..
The gold pagodas and the trees,
as if it floats among the clouds..
While fairy bluebirds fly about.
I feast on spiky dragon fruit.
And smell sweet frangipani trees.
that line the dusty, winding route.
Once ivory men in palanquins
were ferried round upon this street.
While natives toiled in paddy fields.
and sweated in the summer heat.
Those far off days when Englishmen.
would go out in the midday sun.
And wander 'round exploring jungles
with a handglass and a gun.
And though upon the Empire now.
the sun has well and truly set.
Those times I spent in Mandalay.
are ones that I cannot forget.
I still recall the stifling air
that in the day hung thick as musk.
And how the temples on the hill
would shimmer in the purple dusk!
And when I lie and dream at night
the temple bells they seem to say.
"Come you back you, British soldier
Come you back to Mandalay.

I remember when I asked you,
October 2, 2017
what if something happens tonight?

I remember when you,
rolled your annoyed eyes
there is zero chance that something will

I remember thinking,
anger flooding my brain
I bet that no one ever thinks it’ll be them

I remember mourning,
the 50 people who died
they never saw it coming

I remember the anxiety,
following me to every concert
maybe tonight someone snuck through

I remember praying,
looking around at all the strangers
I shouldn’t have to fear for my life

I remember shaking my head,
wanting you to listen
we need stricter laws

I remember our fight,
your exhausting arguments
guns don’t ****, people do

I like to buy different magazines
And bring them to my home
Cut out all the faces
And replace them with my own

I always look so happy
In other peoples lives
I can be the best of husbands
Along side the best of wives

It all depends on my mood
On any given day
I could be hang gliding in the South Pacific
Or hiking the hills of Mandalay

On a beach in Florida
With perfect kids flying a kite
At a Hollywood premier
My face on any star I like

I used to lead a boring life
As I sat around at home
Now pasting my face in different magazines
I go and do anything I want

I just purchased NASA monthly
Dare I go to the moon
If they picture two astronauts together
You know I'd go with you

There's this island magazine I've been saving
From a travel agency
Can't wait to paste my face out swimming
In the bluest of the bluest seas

I'll flip through all the pages
Till I come up with the perfect tan
On top of the perfect body
Then I will be the perfect man

It's not always fun and games
I do have a serious side
When I paste my face onto orphans or the homeless
Then wet the pages as I cry

There's so many different things I do
Depends on the mood and the magazine
What peaks my interest at the store that day
And who it is I'd like to be

IT WAS STEAMY HOT WITH FANS SWIRLING ABOVE,
THERE WAS NO TIME FOR THE MILITIA OR EVEN
TO MAKE LOVE, JUST CONTINUE WITH THE
PIPELINE DAY AFTER DAY, FROM ONE CLEARING
TO THE NEXT ACROSS VAST TRACTS OF LAND,
DUST TO DUST TAKEN OUT NOW GRAINS OF SAND,
LOCAL LABOUR BROWN AS TEAK DOES NOT
FLINCH WHEN I START TO SPEAK - JUST
WATCHFUL AND DOWNTRODDEN BUT WILLING TO
LEARN, MAYBE IN THE NEXT LIFE IT MIGHT BE
MY TURN TO FACE HUMILITY UNDER JUNGLE SKIES,
WHEN IT'S ALL OVER , WORK IS FINISHED AND CONVERSATION DIES;
'ON THE ROAD TO MANDALAY WHERE THE FLYING FISHES PLAY,
THE DAWN COMES UP LIKE THUNDER FROM CHINA ACROSS THE BAY.'

while he hulas through tábor Mandalay like a ***** minus *** ****
who, as bait to queer Maurice Povich, humps likee Constance Zōng
who, as wife to Marx-****-box Maury Povich, plays Connie Chung

when skunk
mull mandalay
with graph
only message
there affront
but companion
right to
convene in
this courtyard
with their
music blue
as sheltered
cry which
the world
must hear
on an
october night

Virus Covidius, it is quite insidius
Much worse than Ty-phoid Mary
They say it arrived from China
But, I'm thinking North Regina
Virus Covidius, it's gonna get rid of us
It's so contagious they cancelled baseball
It's affecting the world from Brazil to Nepal
You can't go to church, but, your'e safe at the mall
This virus called covidius
da da da, da da da, da da da, da da da,

You can go buy, at the shops, if you try
If you're ready to get in line
Toilet paper is out, there is none about
But, you can still get wine
Oh virus covidius
If you shop for toilet tissue
You'll find none, and that's an issue
Oh virus covidius, it's quite insidius
It's much worse than the Spanish Flu
They say isolation, stay home alone
Watch your tv, play games on the phone
Just rearranging the things that you own
You can thank the **** covidius
Da Da Da, Da Da, Da,Da, Da Da, Da, Da Da
Always wear a mask and please keep your distance
Simple, but met with resistance
They are all saying don't touch your face
Stay six feet apart and give me my space
Da da da, da, da, da, da, da, da, da, da, da
If a second wave comes and hits us much harder
I'll have lots of food stored here in my larder
But then there is still the issue
Of Where do I find toilet tissue?
Da da, da, da, da, da, da, da, da, da, da, da
Oh virus covidius, it is quite insidius
It's changed the way that we live
They've cancelled all of the games that we play
From down in Montana, to old Mandalay
With out a vaccine, we just live for today
You can blame covidius
da da da, da, da, da, da, da, da, da, da, da
I said covidius, yes covidius
I said covidius yes covidius
Da da.

She sat and stared from the window ledge,
She sat and stared at the sea,
Was sitting all through my childhood there
Since Eighteen fifty-three,
They said that she’d only stand upright
When a sail came into the bay,
When a ship came back from the Indies, or
Returned from Mandalay.

Nobody knew what she did in there,
She knitted, or she sewed,
Perhaps she was sat embroidering
As she watched the old sailroad,
They say she looked for a purple sail
Run up at the mizzen mast,
A sign that a certain Captain Hale
Had sailed on home at last.

She had a gentle and kindly face
I remembered from my youth,
But time went on and her face had shone
With tears, to tell the truth,
Her beauty gradually faded as
The years, they took their toll,
And sadness leached from her pale blue eyes
Before the house was sold.

A ship sailed into the harbour on
A warm spring afternoon,
A tattered sail at the mizzen that
Had lost its purple bloom,
The Captain wandered along the shore
From out where the sea was calm,
And stopped to gaze at a window,
But with a brunette on his arm.

He shook his head for a moment
As at a distant memory,
One of a thousand left behind
In the years that he’d spent at sea,
His eyes were held for a moment by
The eyes at the window pane,
But then he turned to the young brunette,
And went on his way again.

I bought the house when the sign went up
Though the agent said, ‘You’re sick!
I wouldn’t be touching that tumbledown,
It’s just a pile of brick.
Nobody’s been in there for years,
The thing needs pulling down,
You’ll get the place for a song, of course,
But there’s better in the town.’

I went and I picked the key up and
I stood out on the grass,
And stared on up at the window that
Was crazed, with broken glass,
The house was dark as a midden, all
Was shrouded in a gloom,
I felt my way up the passageway
And ventured in that room.

She sat quite still with her back to me
And stared out as before,
The window, it was crazed and cracked
And that was the most she saw,
I walked up slowly behind her, though
I didn’t know what to say,
She looked as if she’d been porcelain,
But now she was only clay.

I had the glazier fix the pane
And I locked that room up tight,
I wouldn’t let anyone go in there,
It didn’t seem to be right.
I put on a Captain’s hat, and stand
Between the house and the sea,
And swear that I see a gentle smile,
But now, she’s looking at me!

David Lewis Paget

Como continuación de lo leído y precedente de la página que sigue debo encaminar mi estrella al territorio amoroso.

Patria limitada por dos largos brazos cálidos, de larga pasión paralela, y un sitio de oros defendidos por sistema y matemática ciencia guerrera. Sí, quiero casarme con la más bella de Mandalay, quiero encomendar mi envoltura terrestre a ese ruido de la mujer cocinando, a ese aleteo de falda y pie desnudo que se mueven y mezclan como viento y hojas.

Amor de niña de pie pequeño y gran cigarro, flores de ámbar en el puro y cilíndrico peinado, y de andar en peligro, como un lirio de pesada cabeza, de gruesa consistencia.

Y mi esposa a mi orilla, al lado de mi rumor tan venido de lejos, mi esposa birmana, hija del rey.

Su enrollado cabello ***** entonces beso, y su pie dulce y perpetuo: y acercada ya la noche, desencadenado su molino, escucho a mi tigre y lloro a mi ausente.

What happens in Vegas won’t stay there this time,
It’s the scene of a terrible, unspeakable crime.
From high up above in the Mandalay Bay
Bullets rained down as the musicians played.
Carnage and horror. Screams in the night
People were trampled as others took flight.
The gunman is dead but the questions remain.
Was this act one of terror or was he insane?
Fifty Eight are dead, It doesn’t seem right.
Vegas, our playground, has been bloodied this night.
The Morgues overwhelmed and the E.R. is full.
The shooter had come well equipped for the ****.


Is it time to restrict weapons sold in our nation?
Surely it’s time we had that conversation.

I wonder if an unusual flock of white crowned sparrows
Were there that day, that fateful day
Sensing, by which means I know not;
The carnage about to come.
In a frenzy of panic I can imagine the flutter
The unruly encirclement over the festivities.

Perhaps an onlooker gazed upon the sparrows
Momentarily captivated by crying white birds
Together with an eerie hush from the desert wind
Surmising that this is an ominous sign,
Could this be one last final thought of the departed.

For high up in the Mandalay, thirty-two to be exact,
Malevolence hailed down -hailed on a strip of the Mojave.
Smokey rounds undiscrimately raced, laced,
With hate into the music lovers.
Did the Red Rock echo the automatic distant mutter;
The disturbing sounds of mass tuned celebrators' dissarayed.

To what cause is there for such bareful morality?
What heart on 32 could not the feel the serenity;
Of the soothing, harmless country beat?
Then still, sought it fit to take many away
Away from their sacred land and kin.

Many souls - stunned by the sudden halt to dancing
Directed upwards, towards the sun
Yearning to return for one last goodbye.
Perhaps then, that same flock of white crowned sparrows
Native to the north - were grasped by the fallen
By some divine intervention.

Then to return to the scene in the Mojave,
Chirping farewell to the bereaved,
Gracing once again - the soil of the free land;
They loved, and perished upon.
Then into the abode - well above the desert sky.

Set the mode to Roundelay

on the Road to Mandalay . . .

THE YARDS THAT GROW FATTER** do not to me matter while I
empty my urinary bladder on a sad day that can be no sadder for all
who harbor madder intentions towards ***** who'd straddle a ladder

I'll be rich soon  when  my Litecoin finally takes off.
been making a nice profit lately    and I'll be able to check in at the Mandalay
bay.

get myself a room   and 30 escorts
and snort some coke   and drive in a ferarri with a ****** while throwing wads of 1s at crackheads.

That's making it.


Really I should have been born in a   yurt 2000 years ago,
hunting elk with my forebears   and laughing heartily
as we sip
the honey    wine  and  dance over a   fire in the dim night  where time is meaningless
and death is only natural.


but I'll make do with my options

If love could fly on silver wings ,
pull fluffy hearts on silver strings

And no dark black clouds could shooo them away ,
and we could live on marshmallow hills ,
sprout silver wings ,
and fly away .

But there is a cold bitter wind in September ,
and the green turns to yellow in the trees ,
for that is when the harvester comes ,
to blow away the leaves .

And you and I won’t matter ,
at least that is what you said ,
but There is a cold wind in September ,
and  it’s freezing in our bed .

Only the Angels stole our wings
from us when we
we’re flying high ,
and those marshmallow hills now seem far away in the sky .
and our silver strings got caught up in our Mandalay ,
and now we have been   left  , strung up    in  the   clouds .

Now here we are ,
all caught up in strings ,
with fluffy hearts ,
and   no diamond rings ,
waiting for the stars to shine ,
Suspended in love ,
forgotten  in time .

Nature is slowly moving around us
One moment, there's a cloud
in the shape of something I love
And next second, it was just gone.

If we concentrate a little,
we can feel the sky moving in slow motion
The golden lining on leaves and branches
The flapping sounds of little wings
Added to them was the water sound from my aquarium
Nature is the only place I feel like home.

What are those little sparrows quarrelling about?
When did those flowers bloom?
How do those little birds remember their way back home?
There is no sign on the sky

Oh Mother Nature,
You are the mother I could trust
Embrace me in your arms and
Reveal all your wonderful secrets to my heart
How do you draw golden linings on everything the sunshine touches?
How do you wake the world up when I was crying in my lonely bed?
How do you move the sky too slowly but so fast at the same time?

Here I am looking at another group of clouds
They look like those hills I saw in Mandalay
And while I was writing the previous line,
they broke apart into shapeless ashes

All those climate changes and deforestations,
I thought it was you whom we must save
But when I'm at your home,
you seem so undamaged and
Did I realize, it is us
whom we must save.

You're gonna take over the world again
And we, the sinister human species,
will be washed away unwittingly
This will be the end and may be a new beginning
I don't feel sorry for us
I long for that day
When you will finally take over again
And everything will heal from the damage we had done.

In his yellow straw hairstyle mask
this Eton Mess
overpays water canons
and recites on the Road to Mandalay
on diplomatic missions
This man is not a leader
a roasting clown apparition
He partied during COVID lockdown
and accused Starmer of a falsehood
He dreams of leveling up
but as a diehard Toff
he has no idea of class

I didn’t go, you didn’t stay
We never went to Mandalay
I clasped my hands but couldn’t pray
And asked is this the Milky Way?

I like to buy different magazines
And bring them to my home
Cut the faces out I see
And replace them with my own

I always look so happy
In other peoples lives
I can be the best of husbands
Along side the best of wives

It all depends on the mood I'm in
On any given day
I could be hang gliding in the South Pacific
Or hiking the hills of Mandalay

On a sunny beach in Florida
With perfect kids flying colorful kites
At a Hollywood premier
My face on any star I like

I used to lead a boring life
As I sat around at home
Now pasting my face in different magazines
I go and do anything I want

I just purchased NASA monthly
Dare I go to the moon
If they picture two astronauts together
You know I'd go with you

There's this island magazine I've been saving
From a travel agency
Can't wait to paste my face out swimming
In the bluest of bluest seas

I'll flip through all the pages
Till I come up with the perfect tan
On top of the perfect body
Then I will be the perfect man

It's not always fun and games though
I do have a serious side
When I paste my face onto the homeless
Then wet the pages as I cry

There's so many different things I do
Depends on the mood and magazine
What peaks my interest at the store that day
To who I see I'd like to be