More poetry by Pip Wilson   

Page 3

All poems Copyright © 2001-now, Pip Wilson, Wilson’s Almanac

 

 

 

 

Desultory talkin' World War III philippic, or
how I was William F Buckley'd into agreement

(Published November 3, 2001 in the Almanac ezine)

When I was walkin up the stair
I met a man named Tony Blair.
He wasn't there agin today
and he won't be there in the morning.

Along come a man, George W Bush,
Beady eyes and smarmy moosh;
he's bombin from the Hindu Kush
in the cold and snowy mornin.

I looks agin and what'd I see,
a dandelion as big as a tree,
bigger'n Bush and bigger'n me,
it jist grew up in the mornin.

George rode up with his 10-gallon hat
and carryin a baseball bat.
"My friend George what you want with that,
an' yer big ol' hat in the mornin?"

He says, "See this big ol' baseball bat?
I's gonna whup its ass with that.
Gonna knock it down an' lay it flat,
An' it won't git up in the mornin.

"That dandelion, he's a E-Vil weed,
he's full a li'l old E-Vil seeds."
I said, "My friend, best you succeed,
we don't want sin in the mornin."

He took that bat and whupped the ass
of the dandelion, and well you ask
what other things did come to pass
that cold 'n' snowy mornin.

Well all them seeds did fly around
like parachutes, without a sound,
an' some of them they come to ground,
an' they all took root next mornin.

I walked on up them stairs again
and passed by old Afghanistan.
An' I heard them souls all cry in pain,
an' they woke me up this mornin.

 

 

Dickinson sorcery

I was with Emily Dickinson
yesterday, but first
regard this brilliant semi-sight
of moon as I do verse.

The moon I never saw before
new housed I am, he flew;
possum scraped in my new yard
but first, I saw the moon.

And yesterday with Emily
on sandy towel I lay
while Julia my daughter love
showed off in sun to boy.

A bullet from her bluish gun
revolted me in two:
"If summer were an axiom
what sorcery had snow?"

"If summer were an axiom
what sorcery had snow?"
I strung the words in salty air
their sorcery to know.

Druidry nor autumn rites
nor Indian summer's glare
could light the meaning hanging, strung
in equinoctial air.

I took it for its opposite
and opposite of that
which seemed to then oppose itself
― or indiscriminate.

For her clear mind have all of mine
in his dull lunar glow:
"If summer were an axiom
what sorcery had snow?"
These possums fight.
Self-evident is all I seem to know.

 

 

 

 

Afghanicide   

 

(Published November 14, 2001 in the Almanac ezine;
inspired by Woody Guthrie's 'Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos)')

Since many a month we’ve heard not of uncle
and cousin who walked to the Pakistan side.
They said they would get on a boat for Australia
where people are good and will listen their cry.

Our cousin and uncle left home in the summer
when the last pound of rice was our food for a week,
before we ate bark and before we ate grasses
they went to Australia to be refugee.

Our cousin and uncle were gone when the big planes
scared us away from our village so cursed.
Oh can it be that our uncle to calm us
promised that life could not get any worse?

Goodbye Homayoon, take care of Aziza,
protect my small sisters, Miriam and Farida.
I will send you ten dollar for food for the winter
when I get to Australia and be refugee.

  But some say the boats cannot make for the sailing,
and some say Australia will push them to sea.
And some say that uncle and cousin be drownded.
And some say you never hear from refugee.

Let go of my shirt, do not cry my Farida,
I will walk only night through the mountain and snow.
And insh’allah Taliban will never catch me,
and insh’allah God will care me as I go.

We should happy the river three years without water,
the bridge the big planes will never be bomb.
Eight days I will get to Peshawar, my brother.
I will rich in Australia and send money home.

Goodbye Homayoon, take care of Aziza,
protect my small sisters, Miriam and Farida.
I will send you ten dollar for food for the winter
when I get to Australia and be refugee.

And rice will be yours for to eat when I get home
with one hundred dollar and we’ll eat boulani.
And one day America will catch the bad Arab
who bombed California, and we will be free.

Goodbye Homayoon, take care of Aziza,
protect my small sisters, Miriam and Farida.
I will send you ten dollar for food for the winter
when I get to Australia and be refugee.

 

Children overboard affair

Australia ships out Afghan refugees

MV Tampa incident    SIEV X

SIEVX.com  

To win election, Aussie Government  lied about refugees throwing kids overboard

Remembering SIEV X

http://www.worldrefugee.com

How you can help

 

 

 

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