I am a proud American,
Nothing more, nothing less,
No tags to wear,
No labels to confess.
I am not blind to history,
Nor unaware of our mistakes.
Like nations older than our own,
We've known the risks that failure makes.
Yet through the trials of our past,
We learned, endured, and found a way.
To rise above our broken roads
And build a stronger path each day.
History is not a chain to drag,
Nor a script we must obey.
It is a compass in our hands,
To guide us forward on our way.
I know what this country means to me,
A truth no one can redefine.
Not by titles, not by degrees,
Nor by a different view than mine.
So let me stand where I believe,
Without demands that I conform.
Leave me be, and walk in peace,
No anger, only calm and warmth.
For I am a proud American,
Nothing more, nothing less;
A citizen of hope and freedom,
Without a need for anything else.
I’m just an American, and proud to be!
By James C. Chapman
Heart, what is this heart I see?
A thousand needles, and I'm still bleeding from Cactuar's attack?
Sailor Moon poem
Sailor Usuki, my fave! You look like a manga screen to anime and back. I am the princess of the Blue Moon, the elastic void of retribution, the original Sailor Moon, Shelina Denise Chapman. Remember me, always, remember who you are: you are Sailor Moon, Sailor Zoicite. Allah, bewildered!
Babies galore, I tell my baby,
my youngest,
who’ve met these birthing-cousins.
Bouncing babies born
on the same day.
A boy, a girl - twinsies
and many miles away,
another boy - oh the joy!
My daughter says but
it’s been a sad day, Mom.
I ask her why, fearing
one of her in-laws,
something with the kids…
She says that Tina Turner died today.
I smile: Honey, that doesn’t trump the family news.
Babies galore. Oh the joy…the joy…joining in
for the generations spinning out.
May God abundantly bless these bundles
of swaddled happiness! May they be dressed
in white-out apparel - be the very best humans.
and as Tina would belt out, as she passed
by the freshly powdered…surely she showered
the newbies with:
You’re simply the best
Better than all the rest*
Rest in peace, Tina!
Welcome Cousins!
5/25/2023
*songwriters: Holly Knight, Mike Chapman
have you heard of or seen the Mongolian death worm?
has he spat venom your way or tried to electrocute you?
you need to travel to the Gobi desert, where he is.
in the 1950’s there were many hysterical sightings.
known as olgoi-khorkhoi in Mongolia.
Roy Chapman Andrew made the death worm famous.
Writing a book about how he travels underground.
Creating waves of sand on the surface.
Looks like an intestine, has teeth, but no face or mouth.
Kind of a hideous looking thing. Sprays venom.
Is two foot long, without a head.
Many expeditions have tried thumping to get him to appear.
Even Roy Chapman Andrew disbelieves he exists
Except in Mongolian folklore.
Steady rustling of stacked-high newspapers,
On the vendors stand US skyscrapers;
A long face further parting with brightness:
The type that treated not things with lightness
It’s a man heading for a child’s mistake;
From last medical check-up much at stake!
Started it had with a rumored broadcast,
Which listening through made Chapman downcast.
Now, he’s at Lukman’s vendor stand for more
Of a hitting news that few minds could store:
“All banks shan’t be working for two weeks,
Their once-cheerful customers goddamned freaks!”
Yes, some bank manager did cook alive,
For home they’d sought to cashless point drive.
Chapman looked like he would die in a week,
Who had seemed throughout January sleek!
In the morning, innocent lamb left the farm
Behind his master, moved to the meadow
A treacherous chapman loomed him
In his purity, he listened to chap’s distorted words
As sweet as honey, they lead him astray his master
Naively, guiltless lamb was led into a deep hole.
Up and down, lamb looked; this is life as well.
He sat in the fleapit all day long like a mole
But never thought of a dump but another dwell
Mother sheep baabed to lamb’s deaf ear in hell.
Lamb’s meekness has been exploited to death
And in the deep hole, safe he believes he is
As time comes, he’ll be on knees to look up
For God to unbolt his mind and unclutter his ears
To remember many hearts, he has snubbed.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
John Lennon is dead
The news was shared
Mark Chapman shot him in New York City
And we lost one of the Beatles such a pity
He shot him five times outside the Dakota Hotel
Used a Charter Arms 38 pistol a point not to dwell
Then he read the Catcher in the Rye his favorite book in the end
Whilst waiting for the police to respond to show them
He said he was frustrated with Lennon’s lifestyle
And was fixated on Holden Caulfield from the novel for a while
So he sits in jail with his infamy
And we wonder why it came to be.
© Paul Warren Poetry
A hot summer afternoon
A news flash around noon
John Lennon shot dead
For infamy instead
Mark Chapman for the kill
For him just the thrill
And we lost a treasure
Gone from the world forever.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Regarding fashion,Punk set out to gauge
The style of hair and clothes which would outrage.
John Lennon's voice was silenced at this time;
Mark Chapman was convicted for the crime.
A technical development unfurled
Which launched the first PC into the world.
And Cable television could diffuse
A twenty-four hour coverage of news.
Professor Rubik came from Budapest
And introduced a spatial IQ test.
To scramble combinations was the aim;
A 3D coloured cube preserved his name.
So many budding actors came and went,
But only one became a President.
And Reagan gave the greatest speech of all
When he said ’Gorbachev – tear down this wall!’
And thus it was in nineteen eighty-nine
That East and West Berlin would intertwine.
And in that year I too knew boundless joy;
The blessing of my first born baby boy.
07/11/18
'Remembering the 1980s contest' : Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
John Lennon died on this day
Chapman shot and blew him away
So sad a man of peace is killed so violently
You see killing can be done so easily
When someone wants to be known by all
Get a gun and kill fame is at your call
Now the 8th December is the day
John Lennon is remembered shot down that way.
© Paul Warren Poetry
*And then, I am finally free from house arrest
- Which is better news for me than it is for you and your family*
...I am bloodletting
All of my frustration
With a wee-bit
Of Danbert Nobacon...
...This is what usually happens:
Whenever someone listens
To the "Unfairy Tale" LP
Backwards
While sensually drunk
On homemade LSD...
?...This is also how
I mistakenly met
George Harrison
And Graham Chapman
While undertaking
My most recently failed suicide attempt....
...And both they, and Lenny Bruce agreed:
I probably should have aimed to succeed
If I really wanted anybody
To ever take my career in comedy
Any more seriously
Than my 'highly-underrated'
Criminal record...
"...Whatever..." I calmly stated
Before soundly adding
For all intents and purposes:
"Everyone always neglects to mention:
My criminal record
Has already gone
Triple platinum
In Japan and Sudan"
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Within pain’s marrow are the tears that bloom tomorrow’s dreams
Sand and Water – Beth Nielsen Chapman
~13 Dec 2015~
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-kvYYPYWFg
The Sodom and Gomorrah, vault,
the legends so long past,
Lots wife looked back, got turned to salt,
Atomic was it asked?
The Indus valley, vitrified ,
it even melted clay,
a rod of iron, Atlantean kind,
birds all turned white they say,
green of sand in Pakistan,
from the atomic blasts before,
nuclear winter, radioactive rain,
skeletons no gore,
Geiger counter lays the blame,
and Death he oversaw,
twenty thousand years ago,
and maybe bloody more,
pea brain man's end game!
The ancient boulder map is round
with map it's shown theron ,
shows Atlantis nearby found,
from south America, underground,
20,000 year or so old,
with artifacts so bold,
the ancient race did make,
don't listen, don't be told.
Don Johnson
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Constance La France, Robert Taylor and Faith Hope Charity Chapman like this.
Don Johnson see Atlantis to the right of America, and the Valixi aircraft routes in straight lines...only 20,000 years or so old...
.http://www.human-resonance.org/mana.html THE MAP IS IN THIS WEBSTE
.
COPLA VEINTICUATRO : This Bad Guy World
Let’s take it one step further yet
There’s nothing per se good nor bad
“Thinking makes it so.”*
Life’s indifferent to conflict
Holds unfolding drama a fad
Some kind of show
Playing on centillion planets
Dark energy in dark matter
Pulling the strings
Weird bodies on other planets
Writhing quelling one another
Evil GOOD brings?
* Spencer Chapman. The Jungle is Neutral. London: 1948.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Our old friend Johnny Appleseed
Was a bit of a kook all agreed
Always wore a tin pot on his head
Kept himself dry and also well fed
Johnny Appleseed was really John Chapman...he became the stuff of legends after his death.
He wandered the northeast planting appleseeds. The apples were used for apple cider or "spirits",
not for eating.
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