It What cometh here from west to east wedding and who are these, the marchers stern and slow? We bear the message that the rich are sending Aback to those who bade them wake and know. Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay, But one and all if they would dusk the day. We asked them for a life of toilsome earning, They bade us bide their leisure for our bread; We craved to speak to tell our woeful learning; We come back speechless, bearing back our dead. Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay, But one and all if they would dusk the day. They will not learn; they have no ears to hearken. They turn their faces from the eyes of fate; Their gay-lit halls shut out the skies that darken. But, lo! this dead man knocking at the gate. Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay, But one and all if they would dusk the day. Here lies the sign that we shall break our prison; Amidst the storm, he won a prisoner’s rest, But in the cloudy dawn the sun arisen Brings us our day of work to win the best. Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay, But one and all if they would dusk the day. ~ A Death Song – William Morris
We are into the third [full] week of February 2019 “Cult Awareness Month,” and the next few days is often celebrated as “International Pickle Week,” perhaps because they eat a lot of pickles in cults! [They are fairly cheap and nutritious, often kosher! and vegan! and cults are into keeping keeping their members healthy, so they will be able to take over the world OR easily jump aboard the next space craft arriving to pick up souls for the journey to the appropriate star system!] To kick off this week, The Mystic Poet has several pickle poems. “Let’s get the pickle on!” says The Mystic Poet; “for, like the cowbell, you can never get enough pickle!”
“CUCUMBERS CAN SOMETIMES SPEAK!” a poem, in celebration of “International Pickle Week!” February 18, 2019 (Monday)
I AM A CUCUMBER! [Please]-let-me fit-in-your-jar,
Of vinegar and salt! I think we’ll go far!
Although we’re “in a pickle” whether-SWEETened – or-DILL,
It’s NOT a bad pickle, and maybe we’ll still,
Get on OK – and have a good time,
‘Cause EVERYONE’S-IN-A-PICKLE! That’s-what this-here-rhyme,
Is trying to say, but, THAT IS OK,
For, since The Beginning, “God’s”-pickled each day,
Presenting us cucumbers – with-a tempting abode,
To hide ourselves in, while reciting an ode*
PICKLEODE: a.k.a.: “Ode On A Grecian Pickle Jar!” to the tune “Don’t Fear The Reaper,” sung by Blue Oyster Cult!
I’m a cu cu mber!
Aaaaaa ND a pi———- ckle too,
Come on baby, eat the pickle – It’s hard, but not so hard to “do” – – – – [Come on, eat the pick-le!]
Come on baby – Oh! Come on and take the pickle,
It won’t make you cry! ‘less-you-get-juice in your eye -ye ye ye
Piiiiiii ckle – from your jar – A Greeeeeeeeeeeeeecian urn you are —–
puuuuuuucker puuuucker up puuuuuucker – – – – –
Cooooooome on! Piiiiiiiiiickle: Oo!
– It iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisn’t hard to “do,”
Pickles can be real yummy! They’ll make you pucker up and stuff! [Come on baby – Oh, . . . [Yea! you can’t get enough! – of the piiiiiiiiickklllllllllle!]
And-forever, I can be with you!
My Grecian, pickle jaaaaaaaaar, we’ll have a BALL,** [Come on, baby – Oh! . . . .
For you’re my pickled dollooooooooll!
Just screw the lid and callaaaaall!
You’re pickle’s – STANDING TALL! [Come on, eat the pick-le!] [I sometimes comes in a caaaaaaaan!] [I’m a green, Martian maaaaaaaan!] [Make some brine in a paaaaaaaaaan!]
* – An ode is simply a poem, intended to be sung! [alternative line . . . to fire our load!] For instance, “ODE ON A GRECIAN URN,” published by romantic poet John Keats in 1820, is a classical example of this poetic form, written by Keats, who died at age 25 of tuberculosis and was considered, like The Mystic Poet, a terrible poet – and a poetic upstart! Well, time has convinced us all that John Keats was a GREAT POET! “Like Keats, I am simply not appreciated as much as I would have been had I not been born a mulatto female dwarf!” The Mystic Poet. “I originated a drink that never really caught on at coffee shops: The MooLatte, a hot or warm milk drink, with a milk base, to be drunk at night before retiring; you can also eat a pickle while you are drinking it!
** – BALL-Mason jars are perfect for making your own pickles!
“BIG, HARD & TART!” a poem for “International Pickle Week!” Feb. 18, 2019 (Monday)
Mr. Pickle has a sickle,
And with-it he likes to tickle,
Every part of lovely you,
To hear you squealing as you do!
That Mr. Pickle!! What a dill,
But he can often really thrill,
Your tasty buds! Yes, Hon, your gastric,
But Claussen’s also tasty too,
And Best Maid’s hard and tart for you!
When others [are] done and much is said,
Try Bubbies before-you go to bed!