La Di Dah

This is for your own works!!!
mickey_one
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Location: Hello Lovely Flowers, Hello Lovely Trees

La Di Dah

Post by mickey_one » Tue May 27, 2008 11:54 pm

A million
lifetimes ago
before I knew
that I was
bad
when Happy Smiles
meant Happy Smiles
and
the only files
were for
fingers
and criminal files
were a
thousand miles
on
to
a digital age
and
now
I'm
at the stage
when
every grin
is
wearing thin
and
twinkle eyes
are
simply lies
so
I trust no-one
(except myself)
and I
am no exception
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Jimmy O'Connell
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Location: Ireland

Re: La Di Dah

Post by Jimmy O'Connell » Wed May 28, 2008 12:45 am

There is a darkly resonating lilt about these last lines that are very satisfying.
I'm
at the stage
when
every grin
is
wearing thin
and
twinkle eyes
are
simply lies
so
I trust no-one
(except myself)
and I
am no exception


nicely done in an un-nice way...
Jimmy
Oh bless the continuous stutter
of the word being made into flesh
-The Window-
mickey_one
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Re: La Di Dah

Post by mickey_one » Wed May 28, 2008 10:23 am

thanks very much Jimmy.
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Joney
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Re: La Di Dah

Post by Joney » Wed May 28, 2008 2:12 pm

Mickey

Your poem is very sad.

Regards
Joney
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mat james
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Location: Australia

Re: La Di Dah

Post by mat james » Wed May 28, 2008 5:15 pm

nice play on meaning mickey (files)
the only files
were for
fingers
and criminal files
never mind who you trust or mis-trust mickey,
just love yourself
love who you want to be
and be that

you sit in the centre
and let the world spin
"Without light or guide, save that which burned in my heart." San Juan de la Cruz.
Cate
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Joined: Tue Nov 06, 2007 4:27 am

Re: La Di Dah

Post by Cate » Wed May 28, 2008 5:35 pm

I agree with you Joney, this seems very sad.

I like this style of poem. This has a nice flow and rhythm to it with strong rhymes that are not over the top – it rolls off the tongue nicely.
Your beginning and ending tug on my heart strings and I have a desire to paste virtual band-aids on the narrator.
Well done, Michael.

Cate
Manna
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Re: La Di Dah

Post by Manna » Wed May 28, 2008 8:34 pm

Hey, Mickey. I didn't know you wrote poems. ha ha.
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Gullivor
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Re: La Di Dah

Post by Gullivor » Thu May 29, 2008 5:18 am

I liked your Crow Poem better, your too nice to be sad. Angry maybe but not sad.
with love,
Gully
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lizzytysh
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Re: La Di Dah

Post by lizzytysh » Thu May 29, 2008 6:29 am

I like the melancholia and reflection in this. Something in it seems to suggest some sort of paradigm shift. It makes me wonder.


~ Lizzy
"Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken."
~ Oscar Wilde
mickey_one
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Re: La Di Dah

Post by mickey_one » Thu May 29, 2008 6:25 pm

mat james wrote:nice play on meaning mickey (files)
the only files
were for
fingers
and criminal files
never mind who you trust or mis-trust mickey,
just love yourself
love who you want to be
and be that

you sit in the centre
and let the world spin
I prefer the one about fingers and digital but thanks.

Now I am beginning to feel a little guilty as if I am letting down my friends who thought it was sad, I needed first aid, or it even marked a paradthingy.

obviously any writing comes out of a mood (even if it is "simply" one of determination to write anything!)but this was only an act coming from a background of me secretly writing during a session of counselor training and setting myself a challenge to compose a poem, any poem, before it was my turn to talk!

that said, I am happy with my la di dah rhythm and grats for all responses including to Gullivor who describes a piece I know nothing about (or have forgotten). I wrote about a crow??? How Now Brown Crow?

michael
Manna
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Re: La Di Dah

Post by Manna » Thu May 29, 2008 7:14 pm

maybe Gully thinks you are my troll, M.
mickey_one
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Re: La Di Dah

Post by mickey_one » Thu May 29, 2008 8:09 pm

Manna wrote:maybe Gully thinks you are my troll, M.
oh, so it's you who has been counting crows is it? sorry, I missed that. now don't mention the "t" word please or my stalker will reappear, the one who gives everyone the willies, and then some other geezer will think willy is a cue for a poem about a penis, and the whole world will whoosh down to anarchy and then who will make me breakfast tomorrow and take me to school? no good will come of it, Manna, no good at all. Mark my words. Mark, I am waiting for my words, hurry. Oh, here he is, (opens envelope and reads...) "goodbye".
Manna
Posts: 1998
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Location: Where clouds go to die

Re: La Di Dah

Post by Manna » Thu May 29, 2008 9:00 pm

you're a trip, dude.
mickey_one
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Re: La Di Dah

Post by mickey_one » Sat May 31, 2008 3:26 pm

Manna wrote:you're a trip, dude.

thank you, Dudette.
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~greg
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Re: La Di Dah

Post by ~greg » Wed Jun 04, 2008 12:57 am

Michael wrote:Now I am beginning to feel a little guilty
as if I am letting down my friends who thought it was sad,
I needed first aid, or it even marked a paradthingy.
Admitting guilt would mark a paradigm-shift-thingy
for you, I should think.

~~

I saw a good movie recently: Fracture
CRAWFORD (Anthony Hopkins)
You know my grandfather was an egg farmer.

WILLY (Ryan Goslin)
This isn't going to be about your rough childhood, is it?

CRAWFORD
No. I used to candle eggs at his farm.
Do you know what that is? You hold an egg up to the light of a candle
and you look for imperfections. The first time I did it he told me to put
all the eggs that were cracked or flawed into a bucket for the bakery.
And he came back an hour later and there were three hundred eggs
in the bakery bucket. He asked me what the hell I was doing.
I found a flaw in every single one of them. You know, thin places
in the shell, and fine hair-line cracks. You look closely enough
and you'll find everything has a weak spot where it can break,
sooner or later.

WILLY
You looking for mine?

CRAWFORD
I've already found yours.

WILLY
What is it?.

CRAWFORD
You're a winner, Willy.

WILLY
Heh heh heh. Well I guess the joke's on me then.

CRAWFORD
Yes. It is.
Michael, I wouldn't go so far as to say that your weak spot is having a conscience.
Although you do seem to have a penchant for choosing some very hard things to do,
-bereavement counseling being just the latest I'm aware of.
And while it would be stupid to look for any kind of "deep reason"
behind that (-it's just commendable, that's all) - it's not so stupid
to worry that you might be sad from time to time. And to be
disappointed if you aren't. People are, after all, so much
nicer and more interesting when they're sad.

Anyway, I hope you don't mind, but, on a hunch, when you
posted the poem, I googled you, just to see what you could
be up to at the time that might account for the poem.
Nothing sinister, I assure you.

And the Waheed Ali case came up.
Which interested me.

I don't know what stage the trial is in, but I certainly don't
fantasize that my comments here could help with the defense.
Or even with your conscience. It's just that it did remind me
about my "rough childhood".

Of course I don't know if Ali is "innocent", in the strict sense of the word.
But I do know that he is innocent, in a certain sense.
Which is what I want to talk about.

Back in the late 1960s I lived in a city commune for awhile.
And, at first, me, and another new member, were assigned
to share a room.

He turned out to be an ex-Weatherman.
And he played with dynamite. Literally.

I never knew anyone who studied political and economic
structure so hard. And he located true evil in AT&T.
And so he came up with the perfectly logical plan
to blow up public telephone booths. Purely symbolic stuff.
(This was a few months before the Wisconsin Sterling Hall bombing.)

So anyway, somebody stole some mercury, and the feds freaked.
And they raided the commune.
It was interesting the way they ignored all the drugs laying around,
-they were in such a panic about the mercury.

All except for my matte, which they assumed was grass.
See, I happened to be in the room with the dynamite at the wrong time,
and so I got busted. And got to spend that very interesting
May-day week in jail.

Interesting how they stole all my note books
and misinterpreted everything I'd written in them.
(Such as "Cohen's Old Revolution - great song!" )

But that's not what I want to talk about.
I was 100% innocent of that, and the only reason
I didn't get off right away was because the Bobby Seale
trial was going on, and they just thought it was prudent
to keep everybody lock up that they could for the duration. )

What I do want to talk about was my dalliance with the Black Panthers.
I had a very high regard for them, at the time, because before
I had seen them march, I guess I must have implicitly thought
there really was something wrong with blacks,
- all the life-force genetically culled out of them
on the ships coming over, - for putting up so sheepishly
with what they had to put up with. The Black Panthers
and Malcolm-X's rhetoric made me realize otherwise.

The Black Panthers were sort of like Hamas, --in terms
of social services. Or at least that was the way a lot
of people thought of them at first. So I did a few trivial
things for them. But my big plan was to get them rifles
from Beaufort SC, --because I knew how to get
on the base and into the armory.

However, one day, at one of their places,
I realized, all at once, that all that they were
really doing was just sitting around with their
shotguns against the wall, just waiting for
the 'pigs' to raid, so they could have a shoot-out.
Just for the excitement of the street-theater of it.
(The police were called 'pigs' back then
because they were very sloppy -- there were no
swat-teams, and the ideas of Miranda rights
and probable cause were too new, and not
very well appreciated.)

In the blink of an eye the Black Panthers changed,
in my view, from idealistic social workers
with a legitimate need for defense,
into what we would recognize today
as suicide-bomber types.

And so I never did get the rifles.
But for the next few years I had to wonder if I would have.
At that age I really didn't know. It took a long time,
--because we only get to know ourselves in exactly
the same way that everybody else gets to know us,
- by our actions, --- but eventually I did get to know myself
much better. And then I realized that I would never have
gone that far. There is an invisible line, - which at the time
I wasn't consciously aware of, - but which I could never have crossed.

There's a scene in the movie Platoon where everybody
freaks out, even Charlie Sheen (CHRIS.)
It's the clearest illustration I know of about the invisible line
I'm talking about. A line which most people are not aware of,
and most people will never have to become aware of,
- but which - even in a psychotic state -
they simply will not cross. Whereas, for some others,
there is no such line.
CHRIS
(demonic)
DANCE YOU ONE-LEGGED MOTHERFUCKER, DANCE!!!

The Young Man hops up and down in a reflex fear of the sounds of
the bullets as they thud into the dirt. Yet his eyes remain fixed
on Chris in wonderment.

Chris, firing out the magazine, seems to expend his bloodlust.
He ceases, noticing - for the first time - the eyes of the Young Man.
They aren't stupid - nor fearful - but filled with resignation and despair
- a despair that Chris, in disgust of himself, recognizes.

Chris lowers the rifle, silent.

The Young Man's impassive face shines now with tears.
That sad young look - as if death itself would've been a release.
Chris turns his eyes away, an awkward sense of shame.

FRANCIS
(leaves)
Let's get out of here man.

But Bunny takes up the slack, moves forward on the young man.

BUNNY
(to Chris)
You chickenshit man, they're laughing at you,
look at them faces. That's the way a gook laughs.

The Young Man nodding affable to Bunny and mumbling ingratiating
words in Vietnamese.

BUNNY (CONT'D)
Yeah sure you are, you're real sorry ain't you.
You're just crying out your hearts about Sandy and
Sal and Manny - they're laughing at us! Their family
is out there in the fucking bush blowing us away and
they're laughing at us!

O'NEILL
(checking out the hutch)
Forget it will ya, let's go ...

Chris standing there, watching, sensing something awful is going
to come and unable to do anything about it. It comes - suddenly
and without warning. Bunny is looking at O'Neill, the Vietnamese
couple are muttering something. In one fluid move, Bunny swivels
and with unbelievable savagery clubs the young one-legged man in
the side of the head with the butt of his m16.

O'NEILL (CONT'D)
(stunned)

Hey what are you doing!

BUNNY
Fucker!

The young man is groaning on the floor of the hutch. Bunny
smashes him - again and again.

BUNNY (CONT'D)
That's for Sandy! And this is for Sal! And this is
for fucking Manny! This is for me!

Chris watches, horrified. Never in his life has he seen
something so horrifying as this. And yet he does nothing. He is
part of it.

I am tempted to say that you can easily see the difference
in their faces:

Waheed Ali, as Charley Sheen's CHRIS;
Mohammed Shakil and Sadeer Saleem, as Kenvin Dillon's BUNNY.

Probably the majority of Islamists do have negative opinions
about western culture. And these ones are quite visible,
and, in principle, even countable. But it's also true
that only a very small minority actually carry out acts
of violence. And acts of violence, of course, can be counted.

What I don't think there are any statistics on, nor can be,
is how many frustrated idealistic kids have considered
carrying out acts of violence, but ultimately choose not to.
They could never cross the line, the existence of which
they themselves may not even be aware of.
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