https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/section-706-bam.-pooritics-suck A myriad of political rants and wasted time. en 2005-2012 shakespearesmonekys@gmail.com 42.65593 -71.33391 Tue, 09 Jun 2026 05:33:20 GMT yacs http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss 70 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-11091-song-for-sam-tom https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-11091-song-for-sam-tom Dedication For you, Oh my Soul, My Heart, For you, Kind keepers of faith and truth, For you, My Beloved, My Lover, For you, For you, and For you. Accept these lines, these words, I pray Offer no praise, but please, please stay! As long as you hear these verse there is hope: Some girl should weep, some lovesick boy, shall sing, these songs will guide our hearts to leap! For you, I offer this very page in hope that joy might spring from our age Prologue Above the shores of northern lakes amidst green towers, and late spring snow the golden chains of sunlight forsake the freedom of the thither we might go. A lettered cat slides slight in brush like shadowed thoughts that lurk along a slow walk round and push for prey; a painful dirty silent work To right she stalks, and sees the shade; To left she creeps, and knows the tale. What Miracle! An meaty Angel's Wings High o'er red pine, a feast, a foe Too Large, Too Live, Too strong to sing the ritual ignorance of a beast unknown. A lettered man's callous empty eyes, build a hut without a door or window, For him the prey is not too big or wise thus he plans, and plots and preens although In the wooded valley where, above, an eagle waits, below, a turkey strolls, and either may be dire fate Wild tall Scholar, Holy Hunter or a gentile Mannered Mystic swat of dawn from gray blue mottled want of sky before the hunt for our symbols can go on. Oh Bitter Miracle! The endless squawk, the wishbones uncracked and ready as they feed by rough ice worn rock, the feast of Stephan, as he feints right, and yelps, and cries out, "See!" feints left, alas, for a moment's assymetry. All winds breathe of hope,fair change Once friends, and the new friends a twitter with symbols high and low both seeming strange seeds like words from oak fall and flitter to a groundless ground I can't recall to a soundless song, of one and all. ... more Stephan Anstey Bam. Pooritics & suck Thu, 19 Mar 2009 05:20:52 GMT /section-706-bam.-pooritics-suck#comments 1 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/11091 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/11091 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A11091 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-10919-kool-aid https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-10919-kool-aid I expected thin red soda to explode like a million bubbles sweet, sugary empty calories painted upon the body in a cloud of frustration, but it fell flat into the tall glass full of ice then slid smooth into the thirsty throat. Stephan Anstey Bam. Pooritics & suck Fri, 30 Jan 2009 02:10:46 GMT /section-706-bam.-pooritics-suck#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/10919 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/10919 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A10919 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-10918-dirge-for-america https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-10918-dirge-for-america Hope has died across this opaque land where none will dare or understand. The endless snow, and broken thoughts the principles that we've forgot/ Old dear America, she's dead, she's gone an empty vessel for what went wrong a home for slaves to wage and stolen fruit the million strong who got the boot Audacious hope for freedom's touch embrace the lie - you have too much a home, a car, gadgets, and gidgets too everything except anything that might be true America, she dead, she's buried cold a rotting corpse bejeweled in mold The endless dirge of health and state of hopeless hope and a man too great -- too audacious to fail or fall The one, the only, best of us all. At home in our greatest sins with wordless words and empty wins Wretched America, I wail for thee for all you were to men like me The endless joy of spacious land the perfect tribute to God's perfect plan With you, now all hope has passed today, I see the you've breathed your last I have no home, no dreams or faith - I can not see my freedom's wraith America, the dust of justice blows across your breast then goes past the moon, in starlight displayed the only place your flag still waves Truth's a lie and Hope has ended nothing's left that can be mended Audacious dreams, Spacious skies, perhaps it was just pretty lies Oh America, I can not see the dawn's light or opportunity The brave are weeping loudly, for the banner they defended proudly I did not hear your whimpered breath when you took our liberty to your death and left us with these fools and frauds alone to live without our Gods America, America, you sad dead place I weep for you, in your disgrace. ... more Stephan Anstey Bam. Pooritics & suck Fri, 30 Jan 2009 01:46:10 GMT /section-706-bam.-pooritics-suck#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/10918 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/10918 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A10918 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-10916-in-augury https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-10916-in-augury                                           even cooked, i do not care for the taste of rotting fowl i will not swallow this and call it delicacy. Wait! The entrails speak: I am dead. Fuck you. Stephan Anstey Bam. Pooritics & suck Thu, 29 Jan 2009 21:59:10 GMT /section-706-bam.-pooritics-suck#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/10916 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/10916 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A10916 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-10915-america https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-10915-america Her fingertips cry out like swirling paintings of free-form thoughts the cold touch of despair and the memory of a song without lyrics. Alleluia, God is Good, here where there is no God. Alleluia, God is Great, here where hope is the Lie. Her eyes are closed tightly like a jaw in rigor mortis waiting to rot away the stubborn notion of freedom the principles of fore bearers and forbearance. Alleluia, God is Good, here where we mourn Godless Alleluia, God is Great, here where slavery is the Truth. Stephan Anstey Bam. Pooritics & suck Thu, 29 Jan 2009 21:57:56 GMT /section-706-bam.-pooritics-suck#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/10915 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/10915 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A10915 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-10890-in-response-to-the-song-i-will-never-sing-with-you https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-10890-in-response-to-the-song-i-will-never-sing-with-you Most days our business is the silent walk past each other, a game of uncaught  eyes and the noisy prattle of vine-ripe din. We pluck from this garden of rhythmless rhythms our tongues,  to relentlessly repair the toneless harmonies, to make the music of somewhere else - of the bright son daydreaming his mother's cookies on the bus of the farmer's daughter aching for the grind of cornmeal, the student's thumb against the pencil-pocked paper - of the bum punctuating the endless beaches with his lazy tune, and the wind-chime ice that recites the lyrics of this every-winter. ... more Stephan Anstey Bam. Pooritics & suck Thu, 29 Jan 2009 18:19:06 GMT /section-706-bam.-pooritics-suck#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/10890 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/10890 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A10890