The Upper Wealthy
It was said that famous families
only lasts for about three generations
The Churchills, the Kennedys, and many
Others have a sale by date.
I thought of that while watching a program by
Crise Hedges, who happens to have grown up
among the stratospheric wealthy, and he
spent time trying to distance himself from
that class of people
He can't, everything about his language
manner, the smoothness of those who have
not had to strive
Cris was interviewing a man who writes
books about the rich, who, according to
him are bad for our society and economy
Clearly, the rich are different from those who have
No private plane when going shopping
They send children to the top school in a limo
They have a big household staff to keep
them in clover, and security, to be rich also
Mean someone is out to do your harm
The two men began annoying me, telling
stories about the wealthy, sounding like
a couple trying not to sound envious
You shouldn't know the colour of falling light
As it descends into the abyss of passion.
When limbs intertwine in sweet complete delight
And the thin skin wraps the fiery flesh
In the soothing caress of the conductor's hand
Cris crossing and cutting the air afresh
With his smooth effervescent and pulsating baton.
You shouldn't know the colour of his seduction,
His ragged jagged downward pointing chin,
The tangled mangled wilderness of his beard,
The forceful resourcefulness of his kisses,
The colours of that fascinating rude tattoo.
The feeling of injection and quick retraction,
You shouldn't know the colour of his flame,
Or the sound of his intoxicating and secret name
You must somehow savour with hungry lust.
Eyes rolling back as you inevitably fall
It is all some God almighty magnetic rich taboo.
His name, his eyes, the things you will recall
In the lonely moments of night time longing,
When you know it was all a dreadful act of wronging
That must be forever pushed aside, inside, denied,
Far away from the colour of the falling light.
© Allen Ansell 2025
I am stressed,
The grey heron is worried,
In turn it flies away,
Shriek.
The frogs are eating,
So there’s life
In the muddy, green pond.
Je suis stressé,
Le héron gris est inquiet,
à son tour il s’envole,
Pousse des cris rauques.
Les grenouilles croassent,
Il y a donc de la vie
Dans la mare boueuse et verte.
M-y
E-pic
L-ines
C-onvey
R-ight
I-dea's
S-ensible
S-tatement
A-pplying
R-emarkable
T-opic's
E-ssence
Topic: Birthday of Mel Cris Sarte (January 08)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
This world misplaced me long ago
From the bully to the bullied
I cris cross time forgot the past
Been lost for so long
The anxiety overwhelms
Distractions on my mind
Lose focus lost hope
I can no longer hide
Reality is never it in this game of hide and seek
I run so far and gain no distance
Replaying regretted time
Is there a fix for this handicap I see
Convulsive behaviors oh how they surface
Tried to bury them like my childhood
But again they knock louder and louder
This world misplaced me long ago in this abnormal realm I created called my own silence.
C-omposer
R-ightfully
I-mplements
S-ublime
F-orm
A-s
L-ines
A-re
M-ade
I-n
N-ifty
I-dea
A-bout
N-atal
O-ccasion
Topic: Birthday of Cris N. Falaminiano (December 18)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
C-omposer
R-ightfully
I-mplements
S-cribe's
J-oviality
E-mploying
R-egards
I-n
C-onnotation
B-y
A-pplying
N-atal
G-reetings
I-mpressively
Topic: Birthday of Cris Jeric E. Bangi (February 19)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
M-eaningful
E-xpression
L-ets
C-elebrant
R-ealize
I-ts
S-weetness
S-imply
A-pprehending
R-ighteous
T-heme's
E-xplanation
Topic: Birthday of Mel Cris Sarte (January 08)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
C-ool
R-adiance
I-s
S-hown
B-y
A-mazing
Z-enith
A-s
R-ain
T-otally
E-xpires
Topic: Birthday of Cris Bazarte (August 24)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
C-ompleted
R-ace
I-n
S-eeking
J-oyful
E-nd
R-eally
I-nspires
C-hosen
B-eliever
A-s
N-ice
G-od
I-nstructs
Topic: Birthday of Cris Jeric E. Bangi (February 19)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
M-orning
E-ffulgence
L-ets
C-oolness
R-adiantly
I-solate
S-ad
S-hadow
A-s
R-ays
T-winkle
E-arly
Topic: Birthday of Mel Cris Sarte (January 08)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
C-larity
R-eappears
I-n
S-hine
M-aking
I-ts
L-ovely
L-ight
A-bate
R-ainy
E-vening
Topic: Birthday of Cris A. Millare (September 15)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
It's a coo toffee morning... what? you don't stunderand?
Getting our mords wixed is thumbsing I've seen hirst fand
Happens malltoast every day
No need to feel treebayed
I'm seeing billy, seally rorry, cris thrap bould be shanned
It's a coo toffee morning... what? you don't stunderand?
Getting our mords wixed is thumbsing I've seen hirst fand
Happens malltoast every day
No need to feel treebayed
I'm seeing billy, seally rorry, cris trap bould be shanned
La Paix et le Désert – Translation of Kevin Gilbert’s « Peace and the Desert » by T. Wignesan
Pendant que la braise du campement de feu scintille
J’entendis l’appel
du courlis annonçant la naissance
ou la mort de quelques uns
le vent du désert calmait durant la nuit
et dans une voix
tremblante poussa un soupire à l’entrée interdite des pas
quand on entend le battement des tambours lointain
le petit matin arrive en ne faisant pas trop de bruit
la nuit des premiers âges est en fuite
laissant l’impression frémissante des bruits
du carnage et la puissance des carnivores
immobile, malgré l’espoir d’un roitelet gazouillant
un lézarde qui survive bougeant sur un roché
un émeu, deux cherchant de l’eau dans une source d’eau
les aigles fixent leur regarde en toute intensité
heureux du fait de ce que la nuit pourrait les apporter
les tourbillons s’élèvent inaperçus en remuant
les arènes en convulsions
par les pas d’une danse macabre
s’abandonnant à l’ivresse des derviches
aiguilles qui piquent mes joues mon front
puis lance des cris de rage sur cette mer maintenant morte.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
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