Best Dupont Poems
Continuation of Brodsky’s History of the Twentieth Century
1918. A flu pandemic in Spain takes hold,
From Kansas over the seas in America bold,
Women’s suffrage win the vote,
Their opinion is not remote,
Russia switches from the Julian calendar,
To the Gregorian, the west’s larder,
Russia agrees the world war to leave,
To forsake the German swastika sleeve,
UK navy air flying squad merges with RAF,
To make one dynamic force, to the Nazi’s deaf,
The Finnish civil war ends which did distract,
Germany away from their vile, aggressive act,
Nazareth and Forest of Argonne battles won,
Allied forces break the Hindenburg line rung,
The First World War ends with freedom standing,
Democracies will liberate and love undemanding,
Austria, Czech, Hungary become Republics grand,
A peace conference is held in Paris’s free land.
The man of the year is William C “Billy” Durant,
The founding owner and President of General Motors,
He engineers automobiles with speed, at some current,
Like sliced bread off a line to be given coasters.
(Billy Durant)
After Billy bought Chevrolet motors,
Of Delaware, to take the market’s rotors,
He made its head into a new entity,
In General Motors company identity,
But this man, called Pierre S DuPont,
Stole his presidency with great foe,
So this chief man Billy bought bowling alleys,
But died unknown to his lucrative days:
But Durant asserted in money terms our friend,
Technology, after which the war did quickly end.
Reference: History of the Twentieth Century by Joseph Brodsky
This is the Cannabis song,
they've turned something good.
made is seem wrong,
It's illegal why?
Come on politics,
don't be shy
So many uses for this wonder drug,
Wonderful for clothing and sometimes rugs,
Fords model T car was built from hemp- the very best,
Mayflower sails were too they passed the test,
1619 Jamestown settlers had to grow the crop,
It's absorbent fibers make the best cleaning mop.
clothing more solid and sturdy,
Eco-friendly for the fish and birdies,
replenishes soil with nutrients it once dropped,
known as the most efficient rotational crop,
artists for many years used the oil as paint,
use hemp money to pay for that date,
hemp oil could end the gas crisis,
Piss off Shell, Chevron, they don't like surprises,
Lets not forget the physical effects,
One of the best ways to let your body rest,
ointments for sore muscles and lotions for skin,
once it's ingested, ooh feels like a wonderful sin,
The many Cannabinoids help with cancer,
better than chemo not guaranteed to end the disaster,
Certain strains provide mellow for those with epilepsy,
imagine being the kid who just cant sleep,
take a dose once or twice a day,
they now see the sun's shiny rays,
Cant leave out the repair of brain cells,
the ones that alcohol beats up then bails
Why is it illegal you ask?
Politics wear the greatest masks,
Constantly paid off by corporate interests,
Wanted monopolies to bring them pocket book bliss,
Pharmaceuticals, DuPont, Randal Hearst, now Alcohol,
Couldn't stand the competition this “drug” brings at all,
To ensure the public wouldn't be informed,
Made GOV medical testing illegal and provided propaganda ****
So many other details,
but this must end sometime.
For some great information on cannabis
visit the http://NORML.org website
Awards and Recognition
They patted selves on their very own back;
They do have all things which we will lack;
Am so sore,
We are poor,
Live in towers while we survive in a shack.
Many things medals and awards are about;
Who is the one who can give the most out;
Never sure,
Or can endure;
In whole system we do have much doubt.
People are upset like a boiling over kettle;
May meddle with system regarding medal;
Should correct,
Need for respect,
And this subject we should start to settle.
This could also apply to gerrymandering.
A new battle has become part of the game plan.
Who can give out the most awards and medals?
My company and the commander looks the best
when he gives out the most medals and awards.
Here is what I did so I could make mockery of
the system.
I had prepared my own request for the Army
Commendation Medal for my ownself. We were
in the final formation at Annual Training. The
actual Washington Army National Guard
Adjutant General was giving out awards. He
came up to me and was in the process of giving
me my award. He started reading the narrative.
He was about half the way through with the
narrative. He stopped and with a big smile said
that no one else in the world could have written
and prepared this other than me. The whole
Battalion broke out laughing. That was the most
meaningful experience I ever had in my carreer.
This is all absolutely true and correct. I had been
preparing awards for soldiers for over 20 years,
and this was a reflectiob of it.
James Thomas Horn
Personnel Administrator
Company C 3d Battalion 161st Infantry Mechanized
Washington Army National Guard (WAARNG)
17230 NE 95th
Redmond, WA 98052-3226
It is no longer in existance. WAARNG headquarters
is about three miles away from the AMTRAK Train
crash in Dupont, Washington. This is the longest
entry I have ever made. Characters remaining are
less than 700.
(Note: it is rare that I make drastic changes to anything I write, but a friend made some suggestions about changing my poem DEATH OF MADAMOISELLE duPONT, and I agree with her. Here is the change, I believe it makes a much stronger poem...and very timely."
DEATH OF A GAY MADAMOISELLE
Dear Stella, there's your path, into the park,
deep shadows hide the trees along the Seine,
the quiet of the night accents the dark
and you can feel your breathing now and then.
The peaceful gloom, enveloped by a mist,
all black and gray and shades of morbid white,
accentuates the place your eyes have missed,
where someone waits, who's watched you every night.
This place, where gendarmes warn to be aware,
tonight is more foreboding than you've known,
and so you pause; you look; is someone there?
it's then you realize, you are alone.
The snapping of your heels you hear increase,
as if the hurry puts your mind at peace.
Engulfed, the path leads up and from the Seine,
and then you'll be out of this narrow pit,
but suddenly you feel the eyes again,
much closer than a glove too small to fit.
You struggle with your thinking, in a word,
to flee or just pretend no one is there,
and so you hum a tune you've never heard,
and place your safety in your mother's prayer.
Oh, Stella, Stella, in the spring you'll wed,
your sweet Marie, believe she's at your side,
and you will laugh at all this gloom and dread...
though courage might have found you, it has lied.
The shadows all are moving; you can hear
the breathing of someone who's all too near.
The quiet; crickets sounding no alarm,
but now a drizzle rain cools at your heat,
and tingles flowing down onto your arm
remind you of the friends you'll never meet;
quite suddenly, she's grabbed you from behind,
and muffles any sound you might have found,
you cannot scream, to hurt is in your mind,
but she's too quick, she's pinned you to the ground.
Who is this thing, your lover or your friend,
you might have pained...why does she want you dead?
or is this just someone who brings the end,
you've never known, with killing in her head?
You feel no teardrops, feel no blood nor fright,
there's only pain, then blinding, blinding light....
© 2003 ron wilson aka veebdosa
(continueing the Monsieur L'Vampyre adventure)
THE DEATH OF MADAMOISELLE duPONT
Dear Stella, up the path, into the park,
deep shadows hide the trees along the Seine,
the quiet of the night accents the dark
and you can feel your breathing now and then.
The peaceful gloom, enveloped by a mist,
all black and gray and shades of morbid white,
accentuates the place your eyes have missed,
where someone waits, who's watched you every night.
This place, where gendarmes warn to be aware,
tonight is more foreboding than you've known,
and so you pause; you look; is someone there?
it's then you realize, you are alone.
The snapping of your heels you hear increase,
as if the hurry puts your mind at peace.
Engulfed, the path leads up and from the Seine,
and then you'll be out of this narrow pit,
but suddenly you feel the eyes again,
much closer than a glove too small to fit.
You struggle with your thinking, in a word,
to flee or just pretend no one is there,
and so you hum a tune you've never heard,
and place your safety in your mother's prayer.
Oh, Stella, Stella, in the spring you'll wed,
your sweet Gaston. Believe he's at your side,
and you will laugh at all this gloom and dread...
though courage might have found you, it has lied.
The shadows all are moving; you can hear
the groaning of someone who's all too near.
The quiet; crickets sounding no alarm,
but now a drizzle rain cools at your heat,
and tingles flowing down onto your arm
remind you of the friends you'll never meet;
quite suddenly, he's grabbed you from behind,
and muffles any sound you might have found,
you cannot scream, to hurt is in your mind,
but he's too quick, he's pinned you to the ground.
Who is this thing, your lover or your friend,
you might have pained...why does he want you dead?
or is this just someone who brings the end,
you've never known, with killing in his head?
You feel no teardrops, feel no blood nor fright,
there's only blinding, blinding, blinding light....
© ron Wilson aka Veebdosa the Doylestown poet
An Anonymous Hippotamus lived with zones which were erogenous,
Sent from Trump who is a mean old misogynist as well as a pragmatist, Saying he should be removed from our long list.
After lead towards death resounding he kissed his ace that was in the hole And more money did have to dole out when he saw the gold worn by Bob Dole, And in West Virginia remains leftovers of coal which much most of had been eaten by miraculous mole and as usual whole show Trump stole
When he was disguised like a troll that had turned into a trolley
Down in the valley somewhere in vicinity of Raleigh;
The last thing we heard while riding ia a big herd was whoopee Ticonderoga,
We can't stand the aroma so did decide to move to Tacoma.
It had been some near an old haunt and heard about train wreck in Dupont.
We had a miracle and was never lost on Dupont Circle until we came
acorss all of the chemicals Dupont had in Richmond.
Each chemical was obliivious and ended up being completely obliterated;
And by Trump who was subjugated to this had been deeply hated.
My whole brain had been replaced by a big dent which was meant,
To offer a obvious ostentatious cause to check under every tent
As Trump was trying to seek the consent of whatever they meant;
Whatever he left behind had caused him to resign and now in a
Sewer is where he has started to dine making sure none of iy
Would be mine. Almost 1,000 characters I have come upon and was thoroughly embellished with, James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Aroma of Harm In Tacoma Area
Of death and harm there was an aroma;
Experienced effects resulting from drama,
Near DuPont;
Many did haunt;
Happened on train ride in area of Tacoma.
Jim Horn
I
In this nation we buy airtime
Or Data for internet access, and texting
After church I see I'm low on airtime
And Data. From poems, I may seek vacation
II
But the world is running out of time
For reforming our ways, for environment, home
May I add, Time for prayer, or lockdown again
Omicron has not killed ... yet. A sinister plan?
III
Take heart; powerful folk may not need prayer
Weaker ones like me need my Savior more than ever
We are running out of time; and the LORD, of patience?
As elites play God, ignoring Hebrew exile, Flood of Noah
IV
Pray my dear siblings, for humane talk, and Jub-Jub "smasher"
In this nation, Amanda Dupont was "raped for two years,"
Per SABC Sunday Radio broadcast, by Jub-Jub, culture leader
As we begin 16 days to stop GBV, new or ancient virus?
NOTE: GBV, in South Africa means; gender Based Violence, where killing of women and females as young as 6 years, made news this week (following rape, usually). This is sad news almost daily. We have several pandemics in our modern cultures, education notwithstanding.
Traffic circle sloshing;
pedestrians pressing up
against tensile city regulations,
flashing horns and sweat,
university student afternoon,
wiping off iced coffee condensation.
I am a dedicated historian of
lunchtime stories and
park bench vignettes—
a spectacled lesbian runs her pinky
through her lover’s curly purple hair,
as she looks on at the cyclist, filled with regret,
stumbling to avoid the picnicking workers—
together by convenience and ambition—
who pity the down-on-their-luck in their dehydration,
trying to find a pillow on the steps of the fountain.
The rims of my glasses eliminate the peripheral,
underlining the weight of disjointed conversations:
a chuckle, a skipped step to avoid a puddle
sweeping the storefront, eroding the road,
I remain, trying to separate scenes from the bustling.
The circle never exists the same again.
What does it mean if I dream about you?
What does it means when I see your face in nothing…
Angie and Ruby, the Honky Tonk Women,
wanted to paint the honkytonk. Their heads started swimmin'
when I says, "Ruby, Tuesday's a good day to paint.
It should be sunny, but even if it ain't,
I'll have my radio blasting The Rolling Stones.
What kind of colors you want? What tones?"
"Paint it Black" says Ruby, but Angie, she says "white".
I says, "Tumblin' Dice can decide which is right."
Ruby said, "We got this old black paint from DuPont -
Angie, You Can't Always Get What You Want".
I painted up the honkytonk, nothing more to discuss.
I gazed at some Wild Horses, and picked a mean ol' cuss,
tired of all these women folks's bickering and fuss.
I had paint Under My Thumb, and my clothes were in a muss
as I saddled up the horse, thinking, Some Girls are pretty funny,
and I won't paint no more honkytonks for that kind of money.