Dharam Khalsa

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Original text in yellow, anagram in pink.

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Winter in Albuquerque Zoo,
Hairy ibex and jackal on view;
The pygmy goats,
Still provided oats;
Iced giraffe manure seen too!

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A poem by the famous Carl Sandburg (and the subject of many recorded critiques)

I am the People, the Mob

I am the people--the mob--the crowd--the mass.
Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me?
I am the workingman, the inventor, the maker of the world's food and
clothes.
I am the audience that witnesses history. The Napoleons come from me
and the Lincolns. They die. And then I send forth more Napoleons
and Lincolns.
I am the seed ground. I am a prairie that will stand for much plowing.
Terrible storms pass over me. I forget. The best of me is sucked out
and wasted. I forget. Everything but Death comes to me and makes
me work and give up what I have. And I forget.
Sometimes I growl, shake myself and spatter a few red drops for history
to remember. Then--I forget.
When I, the People, learn to remember, when I, the People, use the
lessons of yesterday and no longer forget who robbed me last year,
who played me for a fool--then there will be no speaker in all the
world say the name: "The People," with any fleck of a sneer in his
voice or any far-off smile of derision.
The mob--the crowd--the mass--will arrive then.

Here's my weekly Internet or Blackberry theme:

Preamble to the Constitution of the United States of America, a pamphlet by forefather Gov. Morris.

"We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."

(See how the Preamble paragraph is somewhat limited? It has hardly ever decided a federal case.)

Every state government has its own constitution, for which hardworking lawmakers met to hammer freedoms. However, keywords then were feeble, weak, hollow, and all loopholes downplayed. Now, long hotheaded debates happen in the high hallowed halls, when malleable loopholes are hammered off permanently.

Hey, hotdog, handshaking, kowtowed to, hardwired congressmen; fashionable, shortsighted women--time to forge, hammer! Skip hemming, hawing, postponement, and offer fresh commitment, momentum! Anybody off the hook?

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Jab awoke my dozing nation,
Or maybe spiced the equation;
God's will, he'll survive,
Expected to arrive,
Safe for inauguration!

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As a Wakeup

Customize a design
For our best jet engine line,
More quietly heard,
That can expel a bird,
Or I vow to avoid flying!

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Heredity

I am the family face;
Flesh perishes, I live on,
Projecting trait and trace
Through time to times anon,
And leaping from place to place
Over oblivion.

The years-heired feature that can
In curve and voice and eye
Despise the human span
Of durance -- that is I;
The eternal thing in man,
That heeds no call to die

Thomas Hardy

Neil Ramsay, Ye overachiever,
'Man on a Rampage' has a fever;
He captures site participation
In the form of communication;
Hopes to hatch a clearheaded jingle,
Inviting all the authors to mingle.
He hunted every encyclopedia
Mindful in his harsh criteria;
Steadfast heart not yet defeated,
And his ninth bottle not depleted!

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Welcome

And suddenly
a fierce gust of wind surged into my room
unleashing a storm
The curtains flapped wildly, scattered
the glassware on the table
Its pages aflutter, a book hurriedly covered its face
The inkpot dived, festooned
blank sheets with colour
The pictures on the walls craned their necks in surprise
to cast a glance upon you

Come again
like this

and engulf
my room.

(Indian poet Gulzar)

March

March arrived
leapt up like the fierce lion on a rendevous
to tackle the agile gazelle
Winds sweep the sod desert cottages,
paint distant snowy mountain contours
Tiny daffodils spring up prematurely,
unaffected by thunderclouds
threatening to flood
Homing robins secure in dogwoods
study the area skies in delight
as each knows Nature's secret

March will
go out

peacefully
like a lamb.

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When all the trees have been cut down,
When all the animals have been hunted,
When all the waters are polluted,
When all the air is unsafe to breathe,
Only then will you discover you cannot eat money.

(Cree Prophecy)

When all currency's without a value,
When all home debts have been foreclosed,
When all bureaucracies are dishonest,
When even the healthy are unemployed,
Only then will we pay attention to the planet.

(Another)

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Updated: May 10, 2016


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