Tag Archives | poetry

Stalin

A sincere diplomat is like dry water
or wooden iron.
I trust no one, not even myself.
I believe in one thing only,
the power of human will.

We would not let our enemies have guns,
why should we let them have ideas?
We don’t let them have ideas,
why would we let them have guns?

Death is the solution to all problems.
No man – no problem.
One death is a tragedy;
one million is a statistic.
You cannot make a revolution with silk gloves.
Everyone imposes his own system
as far as his army can reach.
The Pope? How many divisions has he got?

Gratitude is a sickness suffered by dogs.
And gaiety is the most outstanding feature
of the Soviet Union.

 

                                    From the words of Joseph Stalin

 

Linda Frye Burnham 2012

Stalin

Stalin, 1902

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Tennessee Williams

Brutal Desire,
that rattle-trap streetcar
banging through the Quarter,
up one narrow street
and down another.
They told me, Take a streetcar named Desire,
then transfer to the one called Cemetery,
ride six blocks and get off at Elysian Fields.

But how about cutting the re-bop?

I feel like a cat on a hot tin roof.

We all live in a house on fire.
Time rushes toward us with its hospital tray
of infinitely varied narcotics,
even while it prepares us for
the fatal operation.

Luxury is the wolf at the door.
Rhinestones are next door to glass.
A high station in life is earned by
the gallantry with which
appalling experiences are survived with grace.

Oh, you beautiful, weak people
who give up with such grace.
Grown-ups don’t hang up on life!
Life is no damn football game.
Life isn’t just a bunch of high spots.
To be free is to have achieved your life.
You got pain, at least
you know you are alive.

I tell what ought to be truth.
Nothing is more powerful
than the odor of mendacity!
Mendacity’s a system that we live in.
Liquor’s one way out and death’s the other.
And booze goes fast in hot weather.
Truth is the one thing
I never have resisted.

But all cruel people describe themselves
as paragons of frankness.

Oh look, we have created enchantment!
And you?
You’re gonna miss me.

 

                                    From the words of Tennessee Williams

Linda Frye Burnham 2012

t williams

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Marilyn

Being a sex symbol is a heavy load
when you’re tired and hurt,
bewildered.
They treat you like a machine.
They’ll pay you for a kiss  —
a thousand dollars.
And a nickel for your soul.

I just hate to be a thing.
I want to be wonderful.
I’m trying to prove
that I’m a person.
All I demand is
my right to twinkle.

Fame will go by
and, so long, I’ve had you, fame.
I always knew that you were fickle,
but that’s not where I live.

I guess I am a fantasy.
But I have feelings too.
I am still human.
And I know from life that
one can’t love another,
ever,
really.

What do I wear in bed?
Chanel No. 5,
of course.

 

                                    From the words of Marilyn Monroe

 monroe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Linda Frye Burnham, 2012

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Kerouac

Scribble secret notebooks for your own joy,
blowing deep as you want to blow.
Write to those visionary tics,
unspeakable,
shivering inside yr chest.

Be a dumbsaint of the mind,
an old teahead of time,
no fear or shame
in yr experience,
its dignity.

Keep track of every day,
accepting loss forever:
the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
of the individual,
the bottomless true story of the world,
the eye within the eye.

Love the holy contour of yr life,
the jewel center of interest
emblazoned in yr morning.

Submit to everything in tranced fixation,
dreaming upon the object before you.

Work from the pithy middle eye,
swimming in the language sea.

The crazier the better.

Try never to get drunk
outside your own house.

                                                From the words of Jack Kerouac

 

 

 

 

 

Linda Frye Burnham, 2012

 

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