Monday, April 19, 2021

Sneak Attack

 I must admit I've never watched The Simpsons until last night.

I never really had any interest, until the mention of an episode that had a character based on Morrissey.

It was supposed to be a labor of love with what I thought would be some mild parody.

Instead it turned into a sneak attack on Our Moz.

Worn out cliches and stereotypes are the sign of the uninformed and unintelligent.

The lies and falsehoods are a true wicked game of writers with an agenda.

Stay strong Mozza.


                                                                       Sneak Attack

As far as watching The Simpsons: I'll never make that mistake again.



Thursday, April 15, 2021

The White Ships and the Red


With drooping sail and pennant
That never a wind may reach,
They float in sunless waters
Beside a sunless beach.
Their mighty masts and funnels
Are white as driven snow,
And with a pallid radiance
Their ghostly bulwarks glow.

Here is a Spanish galleon
That once with gold was gay,
Here is a Roman trireme
Whose hues outshone the day.
But Tyrian dyes have faded,
And prows that once were bright
With rainbow stains wear only
Death's livid, dreadful white.

White as the ice that clove her
That unforgotten day,
Among her pallid sisters
The grim Titanic lay.
And through the leagues above her
She looked aghast, and said:
"What is this living ship that comes
Where every ship is dead?"

The ghostly vessels trembled
From ruined stern to prow;
What was this thing of terror
That broke their vigil now?
Down through the startled ocean
A mighty vessel came,
Not white, as all dead ships must be,
But red, like living flame!

The pale green waves about her
Were swiftly, strangely dyed,
By the great scarlet stream that flowed
From out her wounded side.
And all her decks were scarlet
And all her shattered crew.
She sank among the white ghost ships
And stained them through and through.

The grim Titanic greeted her
"And who art thou?" she said;
"Why dost thou join our ghostly fleet
Arrayed in living red?
We are the ships of sorrow
Who spend the weary night,
Until the dawn of Judgment Day,
Obscure and still and white."

"Nay," said the scarlet visitor,
"Though I sink through the sea,
A ruined thing that was a ship,
I sink not as did ye.
For ye met with your destiny
By storm or rock or fight,
So through the lagging centuries
Ye wear your robes of white.

"But never crashing iceberg
Nor honest shot of foe,
Nor hidden reef has sent me
The way that I must go.
My wound that stains the waters,
My blood that is like flame,
Bear witness to a loathly deed,
A deed without a name.

"I went not forth to battle,
I carried friendly men,
The children played about my decks,
The women sang -- and then --
And then -- the sun blushed scarlet
And Heaven hid its face,
The world that God created
Became a shameful place!

"My wrong cries out for vengeance,
The blow that sent me here
Was aimed in Hell. My dying scream
Has reached Jehovah's ear.
Not all the seven oceans
Shall wash away that stain;
Upon a brow that wears a crown
I am the brand of Cain."

When God's great voice assembles
The fleet on Judgment Day,
The ghosts of ruined ships will rise
In sea and strait and bay.
Though they have lain for ages
Beneath the changeless flood,
They shall be white as silver,
But one -- shall be like blood.

Joyce Kilmer

                                                                       RMS Carpathia


The Carpathia rescued 705 passengers of the Titanic. In World War I, The Carpathia joined the Titanic in the ghastly deep as part of the ghostly fleet when she was torpedoed by a German U Boat.

Your eyes signal pain
Because of the strain
Of smiling
The harsh truth of the camera eye.

  



                                                       The Harsh Truth of the Camera Eye



Thursday, March 25, 2021

Temps Perdu

 

I never may turn the loop of a road
  Where sudden, ahead, the sea is lying,
But my heart drags down with an ancient load-
  My heart, that a second before was flying.

I never behold the quivering rain-
  And sweeter the rain than a lover to me-
But my heart is wild in my breast with pain;
  My heart, that was tapping contentedly.

There's never a rose spreads new at my door
  Nor a strange bird crosses the moon at night
But I know I have known its beauty before,
  And a terrible sorrow along with the sight.

The look of a laurel tree birthed for May
  Or a sycamore bared for a new November
Is as old and as sad as my furtherest day-
  What is it, what is it, I almost remember?

Dorothy Parker


                                                                         The Loop

                                                                          I just want to say
                                                            I haven't been away
                                                            I'm still right here                                                                                                                         Where I always was

Wednesday, March 10, 2021

Jukebox Hero


                                                                         Visconti is me                                                                                                                                        Magnani you'll never be

                                                  The Strangest Boy is wearing a new shirt

                                                                 Calling comet Hale-Bopp

  

                                                                         Hello!                                                                                                                                              Is there anybody in there?                                                                                                                             Just nod if you can hear me                                                                                                                            Is there anyone at home?



Saturday, March 6, 2021

Never Say Always

 











                                             NOW TODAY TOMORROW AND ALWAYS

Saturday, February 13, 2021

A Very Short Song

Once, when I was young and true,
Someone left me sad-
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that is very bad.

Love is for unlucky folk,
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke;
And that, I think, is worse.

Dorothy Parker



A child in a curious phase
A man with sullen ways
Oh, I know very well how I got my name


You think you were my first love, but you're wrong
You were the only one

Holding firmly to the trunk, I took a step toward him, and then my knees bent and I jounced the limb. Finny, his balance gone, swung his head around to look at me for an instant with extreme interest, and then he tumbled sideways, broke through the little branches below and hit the bank with a sickening, unnatural thud.


                                                                                  White Trash Zero
                                                                                 Me - without clothes?
                                                                     Well, a nation turns its back and gags

Saturday, January 16, 2021

Sight

 

 Before I got my eye put out,
I liked as well to see
As other creatures that have eyes,
And know no other way.

But were it told to me, to-day,
That I might have the sky
For mine, I tell you that my heart
Would split, for size of me.

The meadows mine, the mountains mine, —
All forests, stintless stars,
As much of noon as I could take
Between my finite eyes.

The motions of the dipping birds,
The lightning's jointed road,
For mine to look at when I liked, —
The news would strike me dead!

So safer, guess, with just my soul
Upon the window-pane
Where other creatures put their eyes,
Incautious of the sun.

Emily Dickinson



          Yes, I Am Blind




  My Mallory heart is sure to fail

       I'll never be anyone's Valentine now