Long Stations Poems
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Friends , while reading the History of the Incas , I came across the wonderous story of their
mail runners , the 'chasquis' ! Kindly read their story !
THE MAIL RUNNERS - ON THE INCA TRAIL !
(COURIER SERVICE)
The Inca Empire during their hey-days, *
Controlled a large Empire of an elongated
shape!
On the western coast of Latin America, -
All the way from parts of Ecuador and Colombia!
With parts of Brazil in the east;
Including Chile and Bolivia in the south and
south-east;
While the Pacific Ocean washed their long western
beach!
Where the great Andes range like a raised spine, -
appeared out of reach!
Yet on the central verge of this Andes’ range,
Was located their capital Cuzco with its grand
defence !
The Incas had no horses or wheels to facilitate
communication,
But had an efficient courier service within their
nation!
They relied entirely on their ‘chasquis’, - those
valiant mail runners,
For sending messages within the Inca Empire!
These runners ran on that historic ‘Inca Trail’,
Crossing gorges(pogos) and mountain tracks, -
before night fell!
And rested at ‘tambos’** during their segmented
race!
Those Incas had no written scripts those days,
And used knots in ropes as coded messages!
These ‘quipus’ at relay stations changed hands,
While their runners took them to the remotes corners
of Inca land!
Their suspension bridges with ropes indigenously
made,
Formed their roadways as their Empire spread!
And those bridges were maintained every year,
By villagers rendering public service to the Inca
Empire!
Those valiant runners could run in a day, -
A distance of 250 miles , as experts say !
And could put to shame the Marathon runners
of our day!
I salute those sturdy Incas for their unique stone
architectures,
Who honored their Gods and their ancestors!
Their ‘chasquis’, those valiant mail runners and
their nimble feet;
Without horses and wheels the Incas ruled a mighty
Empire complete !
-Raj Nandy
Notes :-
* During the fifteenth century Incas were at height of
their power!
**Tambos’= relay stations , for the Mail Runner (chasqui)
to rest and handover the ‘quipu’ containing coded
messages to the next runner - to follow the Inca Trail!
Thanks for reading ! - Raj Nandy
Just say no and stop the liberal progressive socialist agenda dividing our country, or any other country! Simply based on the CRT (Critical Race Theory)!
It will further divide the divided states of America based upon race. Resulting in our categorizing and restricting any positive and healthful relationships based upon our skin colors. Turning us into enemies!
It will really pit the brown and the black people against the yellow and the white people! Leading up to and resulting in more racial based wars on the streets of our major and later on minor cities across the forty eight states of America just for starters!
It is the elected school board members that are fostering the CRT! Plus they are sponsoring X-rated books as part of the school curriculum's. Already parents in Virginia and the rest of the country are fighting against the CRT! Threatening to recall the school board members; who have sold out their souls to the devil himself!
The parents and their children throughout the United States are using their social media platforms in order to protect their K-12 aged school aged children!
They are relying upon Christian television stations such as the 700 hundred club to get their vital messages across to the rest of America! Whatever is happening in Virginia will not stop in the state of Virginia! Americans do not want a Socialist nation! They want their freedoms!
Unfortunately the Millennium generation of people born between 1980- 2000 are falling for the lies those liberal and progressive politicians are actively promoting. Also generation Z college age students have socialist instructors spoon feeding their socialistic ideology propaganda!
Where is the communist propaganda political machine located? It's central headquarters is based in the Red Chinese Communists party! Which seeks to place the entire world under the oppressive tyranny of the Bamboo Curtain! Global international enforced slavery labor camps making the Nazis look like choir boys because of their intensified cruelty and torture!
Let us face it America and the Western democracies! Red China wants to bankrupt you, black male you and kill you. And place all of you under its Bamboo Curtain! They are the common global enemies of the world!
Sincerely,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954/209
Roxy 1954/ October Country
June 24, 2021
“Oh, not in my town,” you doth so loudly protest.
But I tell you, they are even in your governments!
The first sign is~ suppression of your free speech.
We let them, outlaw words, while leaders sun at the beach?
You will find that your country,is really no longer your own,
All your taxes go to others from other countries, unknown.
Your country’s flag is burnt in the streets with livid hate and glee?
By masked protestors, filling the streets with grand superiority.
The USA policemen and women are killed with joy and glee?
And people run for President, supporting this inhumane tragedy?
When, in your country, your rights are out the patriotic window.
Be afraid, be very afraid……of this Communistic horror show.
You will be jailed for words that you wrote a friend online?
In free countiries, you write as you choose, and all is fine…
I watch, news from international servers and stations.
Powerful nations are stealing your rights, its citizens,given a ration.
The Nazis march in your streets, to destroy another nation.
Their hate so obvious and ill, that it is a cause for celebration?
These same people, would have gladly cheered on…the Holocaust?
Today, wear masks and scream for death~indeed their souls are lost!
Their heroes killed babies, youngsters, parents in their own homes.
And butchered the young at a dance..as the daybreak’s sun has shown.
A butcher shop of dead, young people unidentifiable, they were in parts.
These monsters then killed their families, and destroyed homes and farms.
So the friends of this bloody mayhem, do march in your “free”streets.
Supported by the UN and all of them, Satan’s souls, a most delicious treats.
Most nations want this nation,wiped off the face of this now maliciciuos earth.
Satan will welcome them, that Fallen Angel, with his evil smile of dirth.
God bless the thousands of innocents murdered a year ago today..
I have grieved for them all, each day nonstop without allay.
The media has largely ignored this most tragic event of my life.
I hope I awaken some souls to this horror and world strife.
Bless and release the starving, lonely, abused and dead hostages!
The 10/7/2024
In Honor of the fallen during the Nova Massacre.
November 7th, 2023! I will never forget!
I once heard a song with the words, "Above us only sky". I'm not the smartest apple on the tree, but I beg to differ. Sun, moon, stars, clouds, space stations, satellites, and debris; and somewhere above and beyond us is a place called heaven. It is up there far beyond the watery clouds in the distant sky. I have a first class ticket paid for in full, allowing me to go there. Someone paid for my passage, guaranteeing a safe terror-free arrival.
Although I have never been there nor met anyone who has been to heaven, I have read and heard a lot about it, and I am looking forward to going there. Physically, both by day and by night, perhaps the closest I have been to heaven was by way of a jet plane which ascends beyond the watery clouds to around 35,000 feet above the earth. It feels so free and quiet up there high in the distant sky, where not even birds fly.
But a horizontal view across the surface of the earth is a completely different scene. There are waters of the lakes, rivers, oceans, and seas covering more than 60% of the earth. Just prior to landing, I have always enjoyed the scene from a plane as I stare at the rivers and waterways below. And I love the symmetry and the unity of water turning to vapor and ascending into the clouds, becoming one with the sky.
Below and beneath the surface of the oceans is a depth greater than 18,000 feet, but I am certain that I have not exceeded a depth of more than 20 feet of water. It is rather interesting that we were given feet to walk on the surface of the earth but have learned to fly like birds, and we were not given fins but have navigated the depths of the sea.
01052018 PS Contest, Water And Sky, Gregory Barten
A baby gorilla's bedtime is a harmonic period when the bananas line up with little leaf rattles to softly croon to slumber the furry ball. Priceless is the process of pacification and pacifications are not prevalent in the pacific, the polar regions, nor do they play with piñatas in Paraguay. It is to be said that a tortoise shell footstool can rotate at great speeds do cast iron boots must be worn if placing one's feet upon the tapestry printed square form. The chime of lime is very very noisy but not as noisy as the incessant chatter and chuckling from the bowl of sugar cubes. Sugars state signalling shaped saying stuff silkily and silly too. But a mild mannered oxon could take a heifer to a ballroom but only if properly attired in a beach towel, sun glasses, three piece suit and a gown. Then an entrance can be made. With a thud. And a bellow. Brass bands made of cream donuts can entertain at this dance and the hall is quite packed with skimming skirts, scantily clad pea women, and the tidal spore has come dressed as a ringmaster but no whip for whips are for the underground stations and platforms of legs. Legality leaves legs lingering liberally. Akin to sprinkling a fine spray of salt across a plate of the towering vegetables. Piled high. Architectural really. Very mesmerising is the mist of a fine diner whose aroma lifts the air surrounding with a unjust uniquely identifiable stench. And stench drenched can be a wench, a bench but never a welk. For welk belong in tree houses and tree houses are not tables and not talking ash trays either. Ash trays do not modify a month of moon shaped mammoths. And a tree semi formed can bite so always walk very very very briskly when passing a thicket. Zoom then. Go on zoom. A zoom in a room. How rather entertaining and entertainment is equal to a climbing plant pot scaling a sky scraper. How great. Such feat with no feet. And how deserving of the medal at the Olympics of Oscar fish in an oceanographic weave of seafood cocktail with melon jus. Haha the wide mouthed octopi are singing gospel tunes to a small party of crabs. Ha the divinatory dogs diving definition digging dreams. Ha the musical mustard jar moving in time to the fish fork forte. Xxxxxx reciprocal z z z zzz. At ten loaves to forty seven slices of butter cake. Z z z z z z. 57294894907398%. Z
Form:
On the streets that you created
Parody of
"Californication"
by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers
Songwriters: Anthony Kiedis / Michael Balzary / John Anthony Frusciante / Chad Smith
Marxists march on the streets downtown,
see the terrorist flags they're flying.
Anarchists scream to burn it down,
and blm is trying.
democrats hide as the children die,
on the streets that they're creating.
Their racism swirls in their hate filled world,
where death is always waiting.
Standing there with a gun in your hand,
we see you on the tv stations.
democrats hide as the children die,
on the streets that they're creating.
Civil unrest puts a nation to the test,
on the streets a war is raging.
bow your head as we bury your dead,
you're the cause of all this grieving.
you know its true
it's all on you
death is out there looking for you
and very soon it's gonna find you
no one out there's gonna help you
as the hand of death is reaching for you.
Acting out you've crossed that line,
you've embraced their acts of treason.
You can't turn back as your war of words,
brought murder, theft and arson.
democrats hide as the children die,
on the streets that they created.
Shots ring out and a little girls down,
in the yard where she was playing.
A little boy dies on a bike as he rides,
but its just another altercation.
democrats hide as the children die
on the streets that they created.
Civil unrest puts a nation to the test,
on the streets a war is raging.
bow your head as we bury your dead,
you're the cause of all this grieving.
you know its true
it's all on you
death is out there looking for you
and very soon it's gonna find you
no one out there's gonna help you
as the hand of death is reaching for you.
Rebellions never bring lasting change,
they only cause fear and destruction.
Violence never has change a mind,
it only bring retaliation.
and mothers cry as their children die,
on the streets that you created.
Civil unrest puts a nation to the test,
on the streets a war is raging.
bow your head as we bury your dead,
you're the cause of all this grieving.
you know its true
it's all on you
death is out there looking for you
and very soon it's gonna find you
no one out there's gonna help you
as the hand of death is reaching for you.
a flustered tango of Gypsy moths
drumming the porchlight; chalk artists;
the endemic disappearance of farms—silos lost
in unkempt fields; space stations; the sunlit-scent of lemon
oil on cherry wood; birth; the chasm between cultural
appropriation & cultural appreciation; the history in our dust;
loneliness & heartbreak; trivia; funky funerals;
climate change, hurricanes, earthquakes & neglected
victims; heirloom charm bracelets, homemade
wind chimes & the homing sound made by a singing bowl;
masquerade balls; cityscapes hidden in ant hills; fly
fishing; serendipitous skinny dipping; missing children,
teddy bear memorials, forensic identification, monsters
never found in sleepy towns; the horrors of zoos—
elephants gone mad, lions robbed of their pride;
book reviews; civil unrest, bad cops & good cops & young men
gunned down; brand new fire stations; cancer survivors who wear
baldness so beautifully; my favourite pair of jeans; river rocks
found by dearest hands; a letter that can never be
received; joyful celebrations; incandescent dragonfly
dreams; twenty million at risk of starving to death;
wildflowers shaking pretty little heads;
misogyny disguised as religion; forgotten veterans who die
a bit more inside every day; the rainforest, shrinking;
saintly stoners & postulant prostitutes; toxic smog;
madmen with warheads; cheese cake & ice wine;
every personalized Kama sutra move & the God-given
ecstasy of body on body language; holding hands;
why one giggle can change everything; Thanksgiving
prayers; abandoned minefields, boy soldiers & devastating
amputations; the songs of the working poor; lightning
over the lake; his timely phone calls; brotherhood & sisterhood;
love in its every form; old maps; twenty-one gun salutes;
the extinction of the Galapagos Giant Tortoise; being
five, being twenty five, being ninety-five; kites; dogs chawing
on ragged rawhide; church-like museums on a Sunday
afternoon; make-shift picnics; deja vu; thrift store
wedding dresses; long drives with comfortable silences;
fading freedoms; censorship; seamless moonlight;
introspective dalliances with self-acceptance; the power
of purpose; how to be the bigger person; how to go
in a new direction; how to rise above . . .
I met them once I landed in a place,
they called it haven, a soiree place.
Where people are nice,kind and cool.
Some are young, some are....never mind.
They're awesome people!
I first met this blonde lady,thought she's only twenty.
She did refused, said she's almost a mother to me.
I beg to disagree,'cos she's more than just a mom.
She's a bestfriend, she's wonderwoman.
She lives in Norway,Anne Lise Andresen was her name.
There goes a new avatar,who came to visit on my land.
She's wearring sunglasses,but can't hide the beauty from behind.
Then I found out lately, she doesn't just own a pretty face.
She is the sexiest and hottest momsie,rockin' up poetry.
She's a real poet master,SkAT A.,that's her name!
One day I sat down and read some poetries,
So delightful,inspiring, and awesome pieces.
I got struck to what I've found.
A Filipina who's writing with charms,
Her poems are incredibly great,
She's Nette Onclaud, the goddess poet!
I came to land another page, thought at first that's a cage.
Of a tigress with full of angst and strength.
I must admit, though I was afraid, I admire all the pieces she had made.
She left the table and threw the soup,and think tha'ts the last time I'll see her poem.
But with revenge she went back home, and send me greetings that I treasured.
With friendly comment I came to know, this tigress is tame and a sweet person.
Who is she?...the everbody's love and favorite, Poet Destroyer!
As time goes by, and my journey went long.
I had to passed in different stations.
I came to know so many beautiful people,
So kind and thoughtful, their arts are treasures.
There came to visit my poem one day,
Though full of greiving,they cheered me so well.
They are Mary Jo ,Eileen, F.J. ,Vie and Shadow.
The women who are pride of this site.
The pretty ladies who always been there to lift you high.
Above all these awesome experience,
Is to know the people from my own motherland.
My country fellas, so sweet,cool and nice.
They are the crystal flowers glisten brightly like a star.
They are Leonora, Maria Paz, Nikko and Carole...
My day became brighter, you light the path I walk.
Everytime your greetings knock on my door.
Allow me to do the honor to thank you guys.
And let you all know how thankful I am.
My dream has came true, because of this site.
Americans, Algerians, Australian aborigines,
Corrupt leaders of the world involved in illegal activities.
Bloodthirsty bullies brazenly bombing bystanders,
Militaries full of corrupt army commanders.
Charities for children, carers in communities,
Third world countries deprived of equal opportunities.
Doctors, dentists, drugs, disability and depression,
An angry generation full of negative aggression.
Evil egotistic eejits entering elections,
Profiteering politicians with the right connections.
Foul mouthed fools fighting over fossil fuels,
Crooked government clowns creating their own rules.
Greedy gangs gambling, goons glamorising globalisation,
A sad and unfair planet, full of frustration.
History of horrific holocausts, hate crimes, hard times,
Skull and bones, secret societies, illuminati hand signs.
Isolation, intimidation, immigration, inaccurate information,
Hiroshima and Nagasaki still suffer from radiation.
Judge and jury, jam-packed jail cells,
Relentless rebels not doing it for the medals.
Kalashnikov culture, killers keep killing,
The reality of climate change is extremely chilling.
Lame loud mouthed liars living in luxury,
Corrupt politicians should be in custody.
Microchips, machine guns, military madness in the Middle East,
The rich get richer while homelessness continues to increase.
NASA, NATO, new world order, negative nonsense,
Celebrating Columbus Day, do they have any conscience?
Outrageous organisations occupying oil fields,
Double dealing leaders involved in shady deals.
Pitiful pessimists publishing pointless propaganda,
While aids and malaria increases in Uganda.
Quality over quantity or quantity over quality,
An overused phrase that’s used too commonly.
Radicals rallying, ready for revolution,
Air, water, soil and radioactive pollution.
Sick, sadistic sinners selfishly selling slaves,
Fredrick Douglass must be turning in his grave.
Terrible terrorists taking over territories,
Religious beliefs still creating enemies.
Unconscious unkind useless United Nations,
CNN plus Fox News equals bias news stations.
Various victims viciously victimised,
Deadly missiles falling from the skies.
Wars, weapons, whistles blowers on the World Wide Web,
While others sell their souls just to become a celeb.
I had just set my headphones
down when the intercom
buzzed and Ruben O’s
voice asked urgently:
“you ready man?”
I’m standing before the
multi-slide mixing board
in a studio dreamily
streaked in amber from
the track lights.
“Eagles Lyin’ Eyes man,
all six minutes and eleven
seconds. let’s go!” was
my reply.
this is a conversation
between two radio deejays
at two radio stations
in the same building
in San Antonio in the eighties.
it’s nearly three
in the morning and were
both bored and wanting
a “bump” to make it
through our night owl
radio shifts.
I crank up the monitor
in the control room
and swing the studio door
open and lock it back
so I can hear the song
play from thirty feet away.
Ruben O’ does the same
to his door across the hall.
this is what is happening
on the other side
of the microphone
as the
listening public
in four southern states
tunes in to hear
the Eagles on KTSA
and “Karma Chameleon”
by Boy George on KTFM.
sister stations in a
clay colored building
at the end
of a 200 yard
driveway off
Eisenhower Road
in San Antonio, Texas.
I’m already waiting outside
the back door where the
jocks park. my foot holding
the door open.
it’s a balmy summer night
and lightning silently shimmers
in the tall clouds to the north
of the Alamo City.
You can’t hide your lyin’ eyes…
You come and go, you come and go…
our dueling aired songs play
loudly and the sound
crashes through the
still air and echoes
boomingly off the
residential neighborhood
two blocks away.
we each take hurried hits
off the moistened roach.
holding the smoke in the
lungs for a few seconds.
two hits is all I need.
I’m already feeling a little
fuzzy. Ruben O’s ready
to go too.
“screw it man, that’s good
enough”
we both sprint back
down the hallway
to our respective
broadcast studios.
such is another night
as an all-night radio
deejay at twin stations
in south Texas
on a summer night
in the eighties.