#Login Register


  • 5 Vote(s) - 3 Average
Home 


before yous die , ya gotta read this poem
05-22-2015, 08:57 AM #1
ocker1 Member
Posts:2,028 Threads:789 Joined:Mar 2011
WAITING

Please go through to the waiting room.’
The uniformed angel said;
'Only the Victorians are still taking tea,
And the twentieth century is dead.'

I walked through the door
Marked 'Waiting-Room'
And could not believe my eyes.
Thousands it appeared were before me;
And some I seemed to recognize.

Not much room I'm afraid!'
Said a man who stood by the door.
I turned and looked into a face
That I felt I had seen before.

'Quite a runcible crowd, in fact!'
He whispered in my ear.
The hair stirred on the back of my neck.
Could he really be Edward Lear?

'I see you're a writer;' he said;
'Of ridiculous nonsense, like me!
Charmed to meet you, I'm sure;
I do hope you are successful,- like me!

He left before I could answer,
And another stepped into his place;
This was a little old lady,
Grey haired and wizened of face.

'You don't want to listen to him!'
She said; 'He is sicker than most;
'He thinks he's the King from Shakespeare
And tells limericks when he's a ghost.

He's a tragic case I'm afraid;
There's a war going on in his head,
And like many in here who must wait,
He cannot accept that he's dead.

A chill ran down my spine.
I stared at the old womans face;
I don't understand!' I said;
'Where am I? What is this place?'

Her wrinkled face cracked in laughter;
'You mean that you do not know?
Why, this is the Final Waiting-Room;
Where we wait before we can go.'

'Go where!' I cried; 'What do you mean?
Where can we go from here?'
'Who knows?' the old woman replied;
'We must await the results my dear,

Of that great debate between men
As to whether or not there's a God,
And if Heaven will open,- and when.'
I thought; 'I must be dreaming this!'

(Perhaps it was something I ate).
I looked again at the old womans face
And said; 'I don't think I need to wait.
I'm only here because of dizzy spells

And occasional pains in my head.'
She smiled; 'Not another who thinks he is mad
Before he can accept that he's dead!

'Let me introduce myself;
She said in an impish way;
'My name is Mrs. Mallowan;
(A writer myself in my day).

Allow me to give you the guided tour,
And introduce you to others who wait.
I am sure there are some you'll love to meet
Amongst those you are bound to hate.

That tall man there with spectacles
And the very loud Irish voice;
Well, he is arguing with Bernard-Shaw,
And his name, of course, is Joyce.

They, and Yeats and Oscar Wilde
Have been at it like dogs for years;
It's like having the Irish Rebellion
Continually storming your ears.

And over there in the corner
Is one you may recognize;
It's dear old Samuel Beckett;
Still clutching his Nobel Prize.'

Mrs. Mallowan took my hand
An led me into the crowd.
I felt somehow dazed and distant;
'I AM DREAMING!' I said aloud.

Mrs. Mallowan turned to me quickly
And in a sharp whisper she said;
'You really must not say that dear;
We don't want to waken the dead.'

As we slowly made our way through
The throng of so many voices'
I was amazed at the contrast of all
The clothing and echoing noises.

'Of course, this is the literary quarter!'
Mrs. Mallowan had to shout;
'Dickens is around here somewhere,
And Shakespeare is often about!'

I was feeling claustrophobic,
And as I glanced from left to right,
My senses were sent reeling
At each uncanny sight.

Here was Percy Shelley
With Nietzshe, affably chatting;
And there stood Great Tom Eliot,
Aloof and quietly waiting.

Rumbustuous Samuel Johnson;
Large and puffing and red,
Stood holding forth so loudly
Over Thomas Hardy's head.

And wasn't that Charlotte Bronte
Laughing and flirting between
A flamboyant Salvadore Dali
And a conservative Grahame Greene?

Mrs. Mallowan Took my arm;
'Philosophers congregate here' she said;
And over there the artists
Are always at loggerheads.'

I glimpsed one who looked like Rembrandt
With his hands around the neck
Of a screaming diminutive Frenchman
Who was surely Toulouse Lautrec.

'I say! Are'nt you a new arrival?'
Said a man suddenly blocking my way.
He wore a frock coat and pince-nez,
And a wig that had seen better days.

'Is there any news from the Vatican?
A statement, perchance from the Pope?
Has anything been said in Parliament?
Does Canterbury hold any hope?'

Mrs. Mallowan returned into view;
'Oh it's you Mr. Pepys!' she smiled;
'No, sorry;- we've heard nothing new.
He frowned like a petulant child;

'Must we tarry here for eternity?'
He cried, stamping a buckled shoe;
'Hast thou heard of these new-fangled physics?
Such balderdash cannot be true?

'But surely;' Mrs Mallowan said;
'When you were a famed London resident,
Did not the Royal Society
Give you honour by electing you President?

And were you not a major sponsor
Of Sir Isaac Newton's research?
Why, you must be as at home with science
As you are with the Holy Church!'

'But that was different!' Pepys replied;
'Newton kept Holy our Trinity.
There's a weird fellow here called Einstein
Who has renamed it - Relativity!'

Mrs. Mallowan shrieked with laughter
And, pushing me on before,
Manoeuvred me out of his company
Into the crowd once more.

'Aha! The famed Mrs. Mallowan!'
A stentorian voice rang aloud,
As a tall bespectacled man
Emerged from the jostling crowd.

'Why Carl! How are you my dear?'
Mrs. Mallowan said, taking his hand.
'I am vell.' he laughed; 'But still vaiting
To enter ze promised land!'

I stared in vague recognition,
Then suddenly all the bells rung;
This was the great psychoanalyst:
Carl Gustav Jung!

'Vot an interesting place!' he said;
'And ze people I enjoy immensly.
Just now I vas talking vith Van Gogh,
And an American who vas called Presley!'

'Oh yes;' smiled Mrs. Mallowan;
I can see that you are having a ball.
For you this is Heaven already;-
The greatest case-history of all!'

I was feeling dizzy again,
And Jung stared closely at me;
'And vot is your name may I ask?'
He bellowed ferociously.

Mrs. Mallowan gripped my arm;
'Yes!' she said, causing me pain;
'Who are you? You never did say.'
I opened my mouth in vain;

I tried to speak but nothing came out
And I felt very weak at the knees.
'I think he is sick!' I heard Jung say;
'Vill somebody help here please?'

I felt myself spiralling down
Beneath a sea of anxious faces.
An overwhelming swell of the dead;
All colours, creeds and races.

Rasputin and Mrs. Beeton,
Nero and Kandinsky;
Ghenghis Khan and Rupert Brooke,
Darwin and Nijinsky.

Virginia Woolf and Plato,
Stalin and Sir Francis Drake;
Marie Antoinette and Gandhi,
Walt Disney and William Blake.

Caligula and Bing Crosby,
Doctor Crippen and Bernini;
George the Third and Hemingway,
John Wayne and Toscanini.

All watched as I sunk into the void;
All merged into one single head.
The head of Mrs. Mallowan!
`How are you feeling?' she said.

The mists lifted and I saw her clear,
She was wearing a uniform now,
And standing beside her in a white coat
Stood Jung with his hand to his brow;

As I focused, Mrs. Mallowan grew younger
and said; 'I think he's coming round.'
The doctor peered over her shoulder,
And his voice lost its Jungian sound;

'You gave us quite a turn.' he said;
'You collapsed;- spark out on the floor.'
'Yes!' said the uniformed angel;
Just by the Waiting-Room door.

• Mallowan was the married name of Agatha Christie.
05-22-2015, 03:17 PM #2
Accidental Stoner Member
Posts:8,803 Threads:70 Joined:Feb 2011
Rather entertaining, actually.

cheers.gif
05-22-2015, 05:45 PM #3
Wicked Oblivion Member
Posts:10,776 Threads:720 Joined:Oct 2012
This poem "Son" was written by the Russian Jewish poet Pavel Antokolsky,a year after the death of his 18 year old son Lieutenant Vladimir Antokolovsky,killed in action on June 6th,1942...

I think its the saddest peom ever written and the most profound and haunting poem i've ever read and the word "Daughter" could be used in place of "Son" and would be just as meaningful and effective...

Quote:"Do not call me,father,do not seek me,
Do not call me,do not wish me back"

"We’re on a route uncharted,fire and blood erase our tracks.
On we fly,on wings of thunder,never more to sheath our swords.
All of us in battle fallen not to be brought back by words"

"Will there be a rendezvous? i know not,i only know we still must fight.
We are sand grains in infinity,never to meet,never more see light"

"Farewell"

"Farewell then my son,farewell then my conscience.
My youth and my solace my one and my only"

"And let this farewell be the end of a story,
Of solitude vast and which none is more lonely.
In which you remain,barred forever and ever,
From light and from air,with your death pangs untold.
Untold and unsoothed,not to be resurrected.
Forever and ever an eighteen year old"

"Farewell then,no trains ever come from those regions,
Unscheduled or scheduled no aeroplanes fly there.
Farewell then my son,for no miracles happen,
As in this world dreams do not come true"

"Farewell"

"I will dream of you still as a baby,
Treading the earth with little strong toes,
The earth where already so many lie buried.
This song to my son is come to its close"
05-22-2015, 05:47 PM #4
US nli Incognito Anonymous
 
Very entertaining, thanks Ocker for a writer's fantastical view of purgatory.


İmage
05-22-2015, 05:47 PM #5
Wicked Oblivion Member
Posts:10,776 Threads:720 Joined:Oct 2012
Quote:Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?


Edgar Allan Poe - 1809 - 1849
05-22-2015, 05:57 PM #6
US nli Incognito Anonymous
 
İmage

Oh yeah, a lending library will make the time fly by.

Hey AS, that was one grievous poem.
05-26-2015, 02:40 PM #7
Wicked Oblivion Member
Posts:10,776 Threads:720 Joined:Oct 2012
Planet earth might actually be a materialistic prison for condemned life forms helplessly hurled into malevolent purgatory, where constant war is waged between good and evil, like some holographic spiritual battleground for human souls trapped within corruptible and punishable temporary flesh and if our eternal reincarnation is real, as we are hurled into birth and forced through life and suffering and into death, only to be reborn and live and suffer and die all over again and again and maybe forever, then lets remove our delusional rose colored glasses and face the horrible truth of realizing without denial that we are damned and doomed in hell and benevolent heaven is a vain blind faith dream hopelessly transformed into a never ending nightmare of sinister pain and disease and diabolical war and genocide, thats designed and orchestrated and unleashed upon us and within us and all around us by evil aliens originating from another dimension of reality, who think and act with far more vile and wicked superior intelligence than you and i can ever imagine...
05-27-2015, 04:29 AM #8
ocker1 Member
Posts:2,028 Threads:789 Joined:Mar 2011
(05-26-2015, 02:40 PM)Acoustic Sleigh Wrote:  Planet earth might actually be a materialistic prison for condemned life forms helplessly hurled into malevolent purgatory, where constant war is waged between good and evil, like some holographic spiritual battleground for human souls trapped within corruptible and punishable temporary flesh and if our eternal reincarnation is real, as we are hurled into birth and forced through life and suffering and into death, only to be reborn and live and suffer and die all over again and again and maybe forever, then lets remove our delusional rose colored glasses and face the horrible truth of realizing without denial that we are damned and doomed in hell and benevolent heaven is a vain blind faith dream hopelessly transformed into a never ending nightmare of sinister pain and disease and diabolical war and genocide, thats designed and orchestrated and unleashed upon us and within us and all around us by evil aliens originating from another dimension of reality, who think and act with far more vile and wicked superior intelligence than you and i can ever imagine...

So thats who these POLITICIANS are scream.gif



Home 




 



DISCLAIMER / Terms of Service (TOS):
Kritterbox.com - Socialize anonymously, commentary, discussion, oddities, technology, music and more!  This website is provided "as is" without warranty of any kind, either expressed or implied. kritterbox.com shall not be liable for any damages whatsoever, including, without limitation, those resulting from loss of use, data or profits, whether or not advised of the possibility of damage, and on any theory of liability, arising out of or in connection with the use or performance of this site or other documents which are referenced by or linked to this site.
This website exists solely for the purposes of exchange of information, communication and general entertainment. Opinions from posters are in no way endorsed by kritterbox.com. All posts on this website are the opinion of the authors and are not to be taken as statements of fact on behalf of kritterbox.com. This site may contain coarse language or other material that kritterbox.com is in no way responsible for. Material deemed to be offensive or pornographic at the discretion of kritterbox.com shall be removed. kritterbox.com reserves the right to modify, or remove posts and user accounts on this website at our discretion. kritterbox.com disclaims all liability for damages incurred directly or indirectly as a result of any material on this website. Fictitious posts and any similarity to any person living or dead is coincidental.
All users shall limit the insertion of any and all copyrighted material to portions of the article that are relevant to the point being made, with no more than 50%, and preferably less of the original source material. A link shall be visible in text format, embedded directly to the original source material without exception.
No third party links, i.e. blogs or forums will be accepted under any circumstances, and will be edited by staff in order to reflect the original source of copyrighted material, or be removed at the sole discretion of kritterbox.com.
Fair Use Notice:
This site may contain copyrighted material the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. Users may make such material available in an effort to advance awareness and understanding of issues relating to economics, individual rights, international affairs, liberty, science, and technology. This constitutes a 'fair use' of any such copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright Law. In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C.Section 107, the material on this site is distributed without profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in receiving the included information for educational and/or research purposes.
This Disclaimer is subject to change at any time at our discretion.
Copyright © 2011 - 2017 kritterbox.com