"meos" poems - Hello Poetry

In nineteen hundred forty-nine China was won by Mao Tse-tung Chiang Kai-shek's army ran away They were waiting there in Thailand yesterday Supported by the CIA Pushing junk down Thailand way First they stole from the Meo Tribes Up in the hills they started taking bribes Then they sent their soldiers up to Shan Collecting ***** to send to The Man Pushing junk in Bangkok yesterday Supported by the CIA Brought their jam on mule trains down To Chiang Rai that's a railroad town Sold it next to the police chief brain He took it to town on the choochoo train Trafficking dope to Bangkok all day Supported by the CIA The policeman's name was Mr. Phao He peddled dope grand scale and how Chief of border customs paid By Central Intelligence's U.S. A.I.D. The whole operation, Newspapers say Supported by the CIA He got so sloppy & peddled so loose He busted himself & cooked his own goose Took the reward for an ***** load Seizing his own haul which same he resold Big time pusher for a decade turned grey Working for the CIA Touby Lyfong he worked for the French A big fat man liked to dine & ***** Prince of the Meos he grew black mud Till ***** flowed through the land like a flood Communists came and chased the French away So Touby took a job with the CIA The whole operation fell in to chaos Till U.S. Intelligence came into Laos I'll tell you no lie I'm a true American Our big pusher there was Phoumi Nosovan All them Princes in a power play But Phoumi was the man for the CIA And his best friend General Vang Pao Ran the Meo army like a sacred cow Helicopter smugglers filled Long Cheng's bars In Xieng Quang province on the Plain of Jars It started in secret they were fighting yesterday Clandestine secret army of the CIA All through the Sixties the Dope flew free Thru Tan Son Nhut Saigon to Marshal Ky Air America followed through Transporting confiture for President Thieu All these Dealers were decades and yesterday The Indochinese mob of the U.S. CIA Operation Haylift Offisir Wm. Colby Saw Marshal Ky fly ***** Mr. Mustard told me Indochina desk he was Chief of ***** Tricks "Hitchhiking" with dope pushers was how he got his fix Subsidizing traffickers to drive the Reds away Till Colby was the head of the CIA January 1972

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10.1k

Allen Ginsberg

CIA Dope Calypso

In nineteen hundred forty-nine China was won by Mao Tse-tung Chiang Kai-shek's army ran away They were waiting there in Thailand yesterday Supported by the CIA Pushing junk down Thailand way First they stole from the Meo Tribes Up in the hills they started taking bribes Then they sent their soldiers up to Shan Collecting ***** to send to The Man Pushing junk in Bangkok yesterday Supported by the CIA Brought their jam on mule trains down To Chiang Rai that's a railroad town Sold it next to the police chief brain He took it to town on the choochoo train Trafficking dope to Bangkok all day Supported by the CIA The policeman's name was Mr. Phao He peddled dope grand scale and how Chief of border customs paid By Central Intelligence's U.S. A.I.D. The whole operation, Newspapers say Supported by the CIA He got so sloppy & peddled so loose He busted himself & cooked his own goose Took the reward for an ***** load Seizing his own haul which same he resold Big time pusher for a decade turned grey Working for the CIA Touby Lyfong he worked for the French A big fat man liked to dine & ***** Prince of the Meos he grew black mud Till ***** flowed through the land like a flood Communists came and chased the French away So Touby took a job with the CIA The whole operation fell in to chaos Till U.S. Intelligence came into Laos I'll tell you no lie I'm a true American Our big pusher there was Phoumi Nosovan All them Princes in a power play But Phoumi was the man for the CIA And his best friend General Vang Pao Ran the Meo army like a sacred cow Helicopter smugglers filled Long Cheng's bars In Xieng Quang province on the Plain of Jars It started in secret they were fighting yesterday Clandestine secret army of the CIA All through the Sixties the Dope flew free Thru Tan Son Nhut Saigon to Marshal Ky Air America followed through Transporting confiture for President Thieu All these Dealers were decades and yesterday The Indochinese mob of the U.S. CIA Operation Haylift Offisir Wm. Colby Saw Marshal Ky fly ***** Mr. Mustard told me Indochina desk he was Chief of ***** Tricks "Hitchhiking" with dope pushers was how he got his fix Subsidizing traffickers to drive the Reds away Till Colby was the head of the CIA January 1972

61

I am Words Infinite and bright on a computer screen Confusion the Stars and the Moon Et pages meos Libros illiterato Plath, Woolf but a little more sane Wandering silently Barefoot and Enamored Am I.

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Mar 30, 2013

Mar 30, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC

elizabeth-lauren

I Am

I am Words Infinite and bright on a computer screen Confusion the Stars and the Moon Et pages meos Libros illiterato Plath, Woolf but a little more sane Wandering silently Barefoot and Enamored Am I.

15

Novis te cantabo chordis, O novelletum quod ludis In solitudine cordis. Esto sertis implicata, Ô femina delicata Per quam solvuntur peccata ! Sicut beneficum Lethe, Hauriam oscula de te, Quae imbuta es magnete. Quum vitiorum tempegtas Turbabat omnes semitas, Apparuisti, Deitas, Velut stella salutaris In naufragiis amaris... Suspendam cor tuis aris ! Piscina plena virtutis, Fons æternæ juventutis Labris vocem redde mutis ! Quod erat spurcum, cremasti ; Quod rudius, exaequasti ; Quod debile, confirmasti. In fame mea taberna In nocte mea lucerna, Recte me semper guberna. Adde nunc vires viribus, Dulce balneum suavibus Unguentatum odoribus ! Meos circa lumbos mica, O castitatis lorica, Aqua tincta seraphica ; Patera gemmis corusca, Panis salsus, mollis esca, Divinum vinum, Francisca !

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1.2k

Charles Baudelaire

Franciscæ meæ laudes

Novis te cantabo chordis, O novelletum quod ludis In solitudine cordis. Esto sertis implicata, Ô femina delicata Per quam solvuntur peccata ! Sicut beneficum Lethe, Hauriam oscula de te, Quae imbuta es magnete. Quum vitiorum tempegtas Turbabat omnes semitas, Apparuisti, Deitas, Velut stella salutaris In naufragiis amaris... Suspendam cor tuis aris ! Piscina plena virtutis, Fons æternæ juventutis Labris vocem redde mutis ! Quod erat spurcum, cremasti ; Quod rudius, exaequasti ; Quod debile, confirmasti. In fame mea taberna In nocte mea lucerna, Recte me semper guberna. Adde nunc vires viribus, Dulce balneum suavibus Unguentatum odoribus ! Meos circa lumbos mica, O castitatis lorica, Aqua tincta seraphica ; Patera gemmis corusca, Panis salsus, mollis esca, Divinum vinum, Francisca !

33

at non effugies meos iambos If I were to wipe away the constellations from the sky, You alone would shine, There in that, Devoid of all the light, Which too often clutters Your radiance and your mind. And lightheartedly I say this, While scrawling desires on yellowing pages, Which I hand out at random (et ad absurdum). And throwing little glances, Lost in endless distance Or translation. There is a grand complexity to sight and sound Which I with my inherent limitations Fail to grasp. Depictions wrought by my hands Could never do the forms of these things Proper justice. And instead of facsimile They become ruined. And so I blur the lines Between the real and perceived As done with paltry sketches, When the artist has no more good to do, And so becomes not a bearer of beauty But a butcher. I write dis Jointed poesy With you in mind. (No better subject could I find.) And fill the lines, And fatten the meter out With syllables and sibyls With diacritical marks and dieresis And critical remarks By means of Playing knucklebones with words. But I’m no Anacreon, Or Tibullus, Or Sappho. And though I may be just a boy reading Catullus, Anachronistically, My poems are just as good Had I been A wordsmith Like Wordsworth. (at non effugies meos iambos)

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Jul 19, 2016

Jul 19, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC

AllesWenden

at non effugies meos iambos

at non effugies meos iambos If I were to wipe away the constellations from the sky, You alone would shine, There in that, Devoid of all the light, Which too often clutters Your radiance and your mind. And lightheartedly I say this, While scrawling desires on yellowing pages, Which I hand out at random (et ad absurdum). And throwing little glances, Lost in endless distance Or translation. There is a grand complexity to sight and sound Which I with my inherent limitations Fail to grasp. Depictions wrought by my hands Could never do the forms of these things Proper justice. And instead of facsimile They become ruined. And so I blur the lines Between the real and perceived As done with paltry sketches, When the artist has no more good to do, And so becomes not a bearer of beauty But a butcher. I write dis Jointed poesy With you in mind. (No better subject could I find.) And fill the lines, And fatten the meter out With syllables and sibyls With diacritical marks and dieresis And critical remarks By means of Playing knucklebones with words. But I’m no Anacreon, Or Tibullus, Or Sappho. And though I may be just a boy reading Catullus, Anachronistically, My poems are just as good Had I been A wordsmith Like Wordsworth. (at non effugies meos iambos)

49

si vidissent iam levis flammae desiderio et viderunt affluentiam rebus essem corruptas meos impetus et sciebat quid patientia perficere posset mihi licuit in minori mundo crudeli unquam fuit laetior anima mea

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Feb 12, 2018

Feb 12, 2018 at 8:37 AM UTC

freetobeme

Anam Athas

si vidissent iam levis flammae desiderio et viderunt affluentiam rebus essem corruptas meos impetus et sciebat quid patientia perficere posset mihi licuit in minori mundo crudeli unquam fuit laetior anima mea

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