Armies are tools of violence;
They cause men to hate and fear.
The sage will not join them.
His purpose is creation;
Their purpose is destruction.
Weapons are tools of violence,
Not of the sage;
He uses them only when there is no choice,
And then calmly, and with tact,
For he finds no beauty in them.
Whoever finds beauty in weapons
Delights in the slaughter of men;
And who delights in slaughter
Cannot content himself with peace.
So slaughters must be mourned
And conquest celebrated with a funeral
I am a disembodied man
head and shoulders above the nest
there’s tarnish on the trunk
and a lifetime of wear and tear.
John D’eau and his beheader half Lise Daytang.
I didn’t start it, but I carried my weight as best I could during the cold war. So I have earned the right to speak plainly to you, as thou art either the best of men or the better half of women — exclusions may apply in some jurisdictions. We thy servants must be a sorry flock to set before the king.
Please to forgive these scholarly blind alleys — I no longer have time to become immortalized as a poet of the first magnitude. But someday, if my ship comes in and I can afford to become a philosopher, I would like to solve once and for all the riddle of existence. And if it was in my genes to become that molecular biologist who puts it all together, I would trace my ancestries to the skin of a virus. Even if I could get into psychoanalysis, given my upbringing, I would make your head spin. Figuratively, of course.
It’s all about maintaining the right tension, said the fiddler to the ventriloquest. Sometimes I feel tighter than Dick’s hatband.
This in itself might be construed as a home invasion, but is it an act of terrorism? Only the members of the Warren Buffet commission and their secret police know for sure. Court records show nothing besides the fall of the middleman who didn’t watch his back, and the rise of the average woman with a yeast infection. It’s all in the wallpaper of record. Look around yourself.