"yuan" poems
Kung walked
by the dynastic temple
and into the cedar grove,
and then out by the lower river,
And with him Khieu Tchi
and Tian the low speaking
And “we are unknown,” said Kung,
“You will take up charioteering?
“Then you will become known,
“Or perhaps I should take up charioterring, or archery?
“Or the practice of public speaking?”
And Tseu-lou said, “I would put the defences in order,”
And Khieu said, “If I were lord of a province
“I would put it in better order than this is.”
And Tchi said, “I would prefer a small mountain temple,
“With order in the observances,
with a suitable performance of the ritual,”
And Tian said, with his hand on the strings of his lute
The low sounds continuing
after his hand left the strings,
And the sound went up like smoke, under the leaves,
And he looked after the sound:
“The old swimming hole,
“And the boys flopping off the planks,
“Or sitting in the underbrush playing mandolins.”
And Kung smiled upon all of them equally.
And Thseng-sie desired to know:
“Which had answered correctly?”
And Kung said, “They have all answered correctly,
“That is to say, each in his nature.”
And Kung raised his cane against Yuan Jang,
Yuan Jang being his elder,
For Yuan Jang sat by the roadside pretending to
be receiving wisdom.
And Kung said
“You old fool, come out of it,
“Get up and do something useful.”
And Kung said
“Respect a child’s faculties
“From the moment it inhales the clear air,
“But a man of fifty who knows nothng
Is worthy of no respect.”
And “When the prince has gathered about him
“All the savants and artists, his riches will be fully employed.”
And Kung said, and wrote on the bo leaves:
If a man have not order within him
He can not spread order about him;
And if a man have not order within him
His family will not act with due order;
And if the prince have not order within him
He can not put order in his dominions.
And Kung gave the words “order”
and “brotherly deference”
And said nothing of the “life after death.”
And he said
“Anyone can run to excesses,
“It is easy to shoot past the mark,
“It is hard to stand firm in the middle.”
And they said: If a man commit ******
Should his father protect him, and hide him?
And Kung said:
He should hide him.
And Kung gave his daughter to Kong-Tchang
Although Kong-Tchang was in prison.
And he gave his niece to Nan-Young
although Nan-Young was out of office.
And Kung said “Wan ruled with moderation,
“In his day the State was well kept,
“And even I can remember
“A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
“I mean, for things they didn’t know,
“But that time seems to be passing.
A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
But that time seems to be passing.”
And Kung said, “Without character you will
“be unable to play on that instrument
“Or to execute the music fit for the Odes.
“The blossoms of the apricot
“blow from the east to the west,
“And I have tried to keep them from falling.”
4.6k
Where are our clowns
With baggy waist-coats
Filled with promises;
Clowns wearing
Borrowed crowns.
One plucks a rose
In his white garden,
To pin on his lapel;
He's a squirter
And it shows.
One's in the square
With large red shoes
Putting on a show.
But feet don't fit,
Soon he'll trip
With tongue-in-cheek ego.
One has rhine-red ruffs
Around her neck,
Her GNP
Surpasses debt;
Her audience finds
They too get wet.
A three-ringed circus
We're wise to regret.
One in the Yuan
Has a red nose on,
A harlequin clown
Asleep in red dawn.
But tweak his nose
And the tent comes down
On the Big Top Shows.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
Weicheng morning rain moisten light dust
Visitor house green green willow colour new
Urge gentleman further finish one cup alcohol
West outside Yang Pass no friend person
At Weicheng morning rain has dampened light dust,
By the hostel, the willows are all fresh and green.
I urge my friend to drink a last cup of wine,
West of Yang Pass, there will be no friends.
3.1k
My pitch through sow
and debt trouble superfluous
with wealth in Coe
where thrift a hoax now
but tread yuan nigh
there my dear and die in relief
that join forces by tomorrow's spring.
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 2:26 PM UTC
I was doing research in Hubei
Where they executed Yu,
That deity soldier glorified
By Buddhists, Taoists too,
I sat perusing manuscripts
That dated from the Ming,
And came across a reference
About Yu’s finger ring.
A ring of gold so broad that it
Would fit a peasant’s wrist,
For Guan Yu was a mighty man
His ring, an amethyst,
Set round with groups of diamonds
It was lost the day, they said,
That Sun Quan had ordered them
To lop off Guan Yu’s head.
They lost it for a thousand years
It turned up with the Ming,
Was lost again in battle with
That mighty force, the Qing,
I’d heard it round the market place
A whisper, now and then,
That ring, it might have surfaced
In the village of Maicheng.
I scoured the streets and alleyways
For signs of old antiques,
Researching as I went, I walked
Around the town for weeks,
I found a backstreet corner shop
One night, and open late,
Run by a dodgy Chinaman
A total reprobate.
He had links to the Triads, they
Would come into the shop,
A shifty group of gangsters with
Their stolen goods to pop,
From where I sat with manuscripts
Up on the second floor,
I’d look straight down the staircase
Watch them come in through the door.
One day they brought in a bundle
Tied up in a burlap sack,
Threw it down on the counter, said:
‘What do you make of that?’
Fang Zhang then opened the parcel and
He pulled out a giant hand,
The flesh the texture of leather with
A monstrous golden band.
The ring was almost immoveable
The hand, with fingers spread,
Could grasp a maiden around the waist
Or crush a warrior’s head,
I held my breath as the Triad tried
To disengage the thing,
And all the while the diamonds flashed
On that massive golden ring.
Fang Zhang paid over a block of notes
That looked more like a brick,
There must have been a million Yuan
From what I saw of it,
The Triad left and I caught my breath
Fang Zhang had pulled it off,
He threw the hand in a ******* bin
And then I left the shop.
He hid the ring as I walked on through
I had to get some air,
I’d caught a glimpse of a famous ring,
A thing I couldn’t share,
They’d say it didn’t exist, that I
Was dreaming, if I tried,
They thought that it had been lost to view
The day that Yu had died.
I went back down the following day
The Police were there in force,
They stood out front and barred the way
From normal ***********
They told me through an interpreter
Of the ****** of Fang Zhang,
His face was black, for around his neck
Was a massive, ringless hand!
David Lewis Paget
(Pronunciation: Guan Yu - Gwon you
Hubei - Who - bay; Sun Quan - Sun Chu-arn
Qing - Ching; Maicheng - My - cheng
Fang Zhang - Fang Shjang (soft J))
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
Naneun, Yeon Feisu Imnida
Reared from a turkish tribe
Faced the border's Yuan army
The commander who had the Silk Road
Daughter of General Batolu
A warrior, who had lost her mind
The warzone was full of blood and loss
The battlefield was full of corpse
Their bodies crying for the agony to end
You, a deposed Goryo monarch
Spared my life from hellfire
Left to breathe in shame and sorrow
Left with no chance to live
With dignity and honor
I became your lifeless subject
I picked up the sword
Buried the last ounce of hope
For my tribe, my home
Whom you conquered
A hunt for Gumihos and Tigers
You threw yourself as prey
To save the chased nine-tailed fox
The emperor's most favored consort
You dare stare at your possible death
And took the blade for her sake
While I took the poison arrow
You dared show me your weakness
I dared mend your wounded chest
I tried to unlove you
So I could protect you,
For I'll never have your heart
There will always be two martyrs:
The oppressed and the oppresor
The protected and the protector
I wish I could rest from the battle
I fought alone
And find my own path
I had to leave
For my life is of my tribe
I left, having the concern in your eyes
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 11:07 PM UTC
Yuan, you told me
Something so
Deeply sad
And depressing
Where the bosses
Would hide themselves
With their love in a temple
Hoping to be spoken about ever.
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 6:58 PM UTC
My grandpa who eats steamed sweet potatoes on foothills textured in green rice patties
dreamt up a tall brick house with a black iron gate
barbwires sprung around the tips of the entrance to keep out thieves
right now he wonders how long he can keep fibbing to my mother—
their rotten hut at the end of the massive foothill, not fleeting
monsoons come early, swells the ground till it gave
a landslide takes four people and a child
that day, red stars hung above Tiananmen square gates
grounded bones came in sacks, white cement hauled by green skin trucks
My grandpa who loves sweet potatoes constructs an ivory wall.
after the revolution, the sun peeks out in montages
peering through the smoke
gunpowder stuck to the tank tire roads
black heads roll off yellow tar dirt into a pit
My grandpa gives his best friend one thousand yuan—
visas for my mother and grandma,
His best friend disappears,
writes my grandpa
an apology and, leaves him a large white sack of uncooked sweet potatoes
light tan, severs in half and plops down on the lumpy cutting board,
dusty orange inners, grandpa tosses them in the boiling water
and later, while gnawing down,
he pretends they are oranges for once
Grandpa, who’s kneeling on our dried front yard with a worn out copper pail
waters the salty earth slowly until it sprouts sugar canes
chops one down, breaks it in half, the sun beats
peering through palm leaves
a viridescent river of silk and pale honey
my small three year arms grab a hand full
sliced by grandpa into pieces neatly placed
in a blue flowered ceramic bowl
years later, I chop a stalk down and chew until
English becomes a second language again
and in my twenties, I grab a hand full
sliced my mom into pieces, places them in a weaved basket
made of reinforced bamboo
I put it in front of my grandpa’s grave
in Fujian on the foggy mountainside of a small retirement town.
The edge of the South China coast covered in a thick plastic smog,
I sit on a stone eating sweet cold potatoes with my grandpa facing outland,
a red kneeing sun, barely visible past the trees
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 12:41 AM UTC
My darling Yuan
I didn’t want to leave
For I enjoyed and loved you
I felt safe.
I ask if we can be
Together once more
As we have our ways with
Eachother
Erotically and playfully
We whispered steamy
Sweat nothings.
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 8:16 PM UTC
When we were making out
In the moonlight
All was great
Until you muttered
Something strange in tibetan
I was creeped out and
Ask what you said
You said that you
Were a Buddha
I freaked out some more
Until you said that
My moonlit beauty
Made you achieve enlightenment
I took it as a compliment
We continued to couple
But in the morning
While we made love
You said that you were going to announce your
Achievement to everyone
It only got worse
Soon I missed my period
I wasn’t stupid
And I got afraid
So I had to leave
For the sake of the child
So I run away back to the us
Before you came back to me.
I had a woman sneak me to the nearest airport
And I left but ended up in Japan
In the city of Osaka.
Because I need medical attention
To see how many kids I had
multiples were confirmed
As I was leaving
I heard a familiar rough voice
Call out my name
I turned around
It was yuan Matsumoto
He asked me to come with him
After he was looked over
When we were both discharged
yuan took me to his high end
Appartment
There my old sensei and I talked
I said that I was in Tibet
But he did not get angry
“Let me see, that twirp dragged you?”
I said yes and he gave me a hug
And we made out
Soon we made love
As if you never knew.
I just had one question
That he wasn’t going to cut my heart out
Yuan Matsumoto gently kissed me
Reassuring me that he was only jealous
At the time
I wanted him.
He gave me his mother’s ring
And said that
He was in love with me and wanted me for life.
My yakuza and I kissed deeply.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 9:31 AM UTC
When I come into
Your appartment
To be with you
Yuan Matsumoto
I was surprised
At the look of you
The evil yakuza
Version of the Dalai Lama.
I find you to be handsome
As we playfully
And passionately make love
I felt pleasured
And loved
My my Karate instructor
Turned lover.
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 8:09 PM UTC
Yuan – gobierno – kaadlawan ni Juan
Brad Pitt kg Spielberg – mass media – kaadlawan ni Juan
Epimetheus – siyensiya – kaadlawan ni Juan
Islamic Development Bank – ekonomiya – kaadlawan ni Juan
Mga modela – ikaayong lawas – kaadlawan ni Juan
Star Wars 7 – literatura – kaadlawan ni Juan
Iglesia sa San Juan – relihiyon – kaadlawan ni Juan
-12/18/2015
(Dumarao)
*Kaadlawan ni Juan
Sep 27, 2019
Sep 27, 2019 at 9:05 PM UTC
leprechaun with riding cap
solitary sleeping avalanche
watch him tweeter on the edge
of fantasy round llama ranch
fall into an overture
shoot the applauding masses
wetter than the rabbits
cascading into molasses
dueling dollar and yuan
missives pointing to this guy
can't always get what you want
so shake your taxing habits
rocking and remembering
pay the peasant to do the deed
if you try some dimes
you get what you need
a lonely greta garbo hat
graces the desert dust
shining like new under the sun
pretending not to rust
hungry and thirsty,
swallow another
hollow promise smiling; laughing
see them blindly follow each other
now the bones of our distress
blowing in circles like bits of dress
and jeans the skulls and jewels
don't walk run back to save a few more
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 10:55 PM UTC
With the special definition of Private Week
for private mathematics, the new INGLES; |
the INGLES, mosaic must be a member of
Yamampukichi's Red Monkey.
To write to the personal seeker,
write NARRRATTTORR MMER 1910 EYKIKI |
19 | | | | | | |
SOCIZES Markus Nell, code of Adolph Hushi Singh,
and Liberty and Olivia wanted to keep
the secret number of 'Emanuel D' of the nation -.
"When I came to
Wood for the action of Kishito" ... Jacob Saccramanto's solution
was a bad relationship with today's Granada and the Ladies
of Paula Killa. "This is red light," he said. . ... but I do not know
life, my friend said that "the first German company,
or those words ..."
and "... Easton pastor, gold, silver and hollow mo' gold" SMagda,
Fleming said 'Uganda, Eug-ra, Uganda , Uganda, Uganda,
Uganda, Uganda, Pierce, Pierce, Uganda - Uganda - The child
is born a father, a banker, 1919 100-100 is not well, said Wasa.
To request a red motor's grace from
the ammunicipator: Provider: A and B Scans, and Gregory,
and John, who are responsible for the work
of the mathematical units
and the most difficult to answer. Participants of Combat,
and the next Lindsay (barking) of Nell Mariner Akiki Sosise 19
and, for example, St. Gregory I Rigita Cornelius and Paul Russelli:
"FSNIO" of Yugen HTML readers of their song "In Pressure" to ...
Great Olivia Larcenaae Milkey Crissorgansen Grenadier,
William the "Red" in Germany, who is in Florence ... "..."
... an image of the summer, Alice Harcouss Keninisate Orophise;
Fleming Sea Zone According to the policy of "The honeys of gold,
two gold and Christians" is a day, "pirosporic ... ", "small"
miracles |
and metabolic yuan, found in time, and they are 100 |
and God PinanIza, Baki SacriAcid's Adult JMA is the first pipipina.
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 1:28 AM UTC
While My former instructor
Yuan
And I asked if I could
Play with one of katanas
I then went and licked the blade
Trying not to cute my tounge
Slowly while he watched
He complained
That the sword should be him
I then did the same to him
All over him
But slower and more affectionate
I pleasured him
And loved him.
Soon love poems
Started to come up
When I slept in
When realized Yuan was
With his crime family
I kept writing love poems
And hide them all over the appartment
We were together
Until
I felt the need to go home
Matsumoto promised that we
Would stay in touch
When I got to upper Manhattan
To live with a friend
And mother my children
I took the time to sand him steamy
Love letters.
Which we responded with more steaminess
After a while I wrote back
And never heard from him
Until one of his associates
Wrote back saying that
Oyabun Yuan Matsumoto
Died in peace.
Then I learned that you killed your self
Too much hallucinogenics
I died cherish you as you
Deserved
But instead fell for my karate instructor
Yet again.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 9:42 AM UTC
The golden baby
In the last slice of Mardigras cake
A half dollar
Well after they stopped being printed
A rare right sided conch
When most others are left
Are the rare treasures I find buried underneath
The glass bird
Dainty as can be
And the size of a nail
The miniature tea cup
A full set
Spoon and all
The Minni and Miki
Mouse holiday wear
mini collectibles
Miniature Kitty Kat
Pouches
In four different colors
Are the tiny bobbles I couldn’t bear to part with
The multitudes of dice
From classic six sided
To 8 To 12
Even dice in dice
More than can be counted
Erasers by the gazillions
Stingrays, baseball gloves
Eraser pencils with missing erasers
And a baby head detached from the body
Keychains, by the plenty
Sunglasses, Weapons
Dream catchers, bird’s with bells, all sorts
Of strange and curious oddities attached to a chain
Coins, many sizes countries
Fake, real
Dinar, Rupee, Euro, dollar,
Replica of ancient yuan
Jewelry-
Don’t even get me started
Necklaces, bracelets
Rings and earrings
Even though my ears aren’t pierced!
My hoarding tendencies coming to light in this
Curious collection of collections
Also known as
The objects in my closet
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
In the morning I made love to you
And taught you everything I knew
Then I left
To be with my secret lover
Sensei Yuan Matsumoto
I made love to him and we ate together
He noticed the Om mani Padme hum
Near my womanhood
And asked if I was tibetan
I said that I was Irish
“Good beautiful, because I am part Chinese and Japanese”
“It was loud mouths idea,” I said coldly as if you were ****
He looked like an evil, pasty, glasses less, tattooed
Version of the Dalai Lama
He had only compassion
And gentleness
For me
Soon I spent nights with him
This continued for months
Almost a year
I had to go back to you
So yuan and I wrote **** love letters to eachother.
And we would have the affair
Before class
You were welcomed back
And you got strange when Matsumoto winked at me
You asked what was going on
And that you’ve read every sorted
Letter
You weren’t angry
But curious and worried
I said it was because I thought
You were gay
“Boris, yes I **** your sensei girl friend” yuan said.
Embarrassing
I left and went back to your appartment
And curled in bed and cried
Until no tears came out.
You rushed in
Saying that you will always love me
You climbed in
And we ended up making love though I was shamed.
You kissed my tears and my face and mouth
“Boris you are a wonderful person”
You said that you were only on this planet to love me.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 9:06 AM UTC
Demise.
Soon the dollar will make
no sense, debt to America.
Stirling takes bank busting
pecuniary pounding.
Rows and rows of Euro’s
under the Rouble far as the
Yuan-dering eye can see
in graveyards walled with
B.R.I.C.S.
Poem For President Putin.
Victory to Russia.
Jun 1, 2023
Jun 1, 2023 at 8:09 AM UTC