Monday, 27 October 2014

Black Men Ski lyrics

black men go to Aspen and rent colorful chalets
giggle at the questions their mere presence seems to raise
get taken for men we don’t resemble in the least(are you?…)(no)
it’s a winter wonderland in the belly of the beast
and black men ski
black men ski


black men send back sushi with a scorned Yakuza’s flair
we make postmodern art with bacon grease and hot combed hair
we secretly play beethonven inside our bass-mobiles
we can tell you how cool looks, but cannot show you how it feels
when black men ski
when black men ski


black men now are students of gay sensibility
we wear ironic t-shirts drenched in code unknown to thee
we get baptized in Walden pond amongst a searing mob
because the cleansing blood of Jesus could not do a Thoreau job
black men ski
black men ski


Chinese guys can jump real high and Germans cook soul food
white boys rap and hippies nap up their dreads to look rude
jazz is now suburban, it’s Marsalis-ly clean
and now we’ve got Viagra everyone’s a sex machine
so black men ski(what else can we do?)
black men ski
black men ski
black men ski


some kids i’ll describe as friends say i am race-obsessed
the luxury of your opinion shows you that you are blessed
i have poems about sunsets, flowers and the rain
i’ve read them to policemen, but it was all in vain
so black men ski
black men ski
elegantly
black men ski
black men ski

Friday, 17 January 2014

The Welsh corgi

The Welsh corgi is a small type of herding dog that started off in Wales. Two specific breeds are identified: the Pembroke Welsh corgi and the Cardigan Welsh corgi, with the Pembroke being the more frequent. The differences between the two breeds include bone structure, body length, and size.

Cardigans are the bigger of the two breeds, with big rounded ears and a 12-inch-long foxy, flowing tail set in line with the body. Although the Cardigan is allowed more colors than the Pembroke, white must not rule in its coat. The Cardigan is a double-coated dog where the outer coat is thick, a little unkind in texture, and of medium length. The dog's undercoat is small, soft, and thick. The breed stands about 12 inches (30 cm) at the shoulder, and weighs about 30 pounds (14 kg). The Cardigan is strong, mobile, alert, active, intelligent, steady, and neither shy nor violent.

Pembrokes feature sharp ears, and are fairly smaller in build than the Cardigan. Considered a practical dog, they are low-set, clever, strong and well-built with stamina sufficient to work a day on the farm. The dog's head is fox-like and the tail small, which can be accomplished through breeding or docking. In the past, the Pembroke was a breed with a natural bob tail (a very short tail), and these days, if the Pembroke has a tail at all, it is generally curly. Due to the arrival of tail docking in dogs, the bob tail was not aggressively pursued, with breeders focusing instead on other characters, and the tail artificially shortened if need be. Given that some countries now ban docking, breeders are again trying to choose dogs with the genes for natural bob tails. Pembrokes stand from 10 inches (25 cm) to 12 inches (30 cm), and weigh roughly 28 pounds (13 kg).

Wednesday, 6 March 2013

Corgi

The Pembroke Welsh Corgi is a herding dog breed, which originated in Pembrokeshire, Wales. It is one of two breeds known as Welsh corgi: the other is the Cardigan Welsh Corgi. The Pembroke Welsh Corgi is the younger of the two Corgi breeds and is a separate and distinct breed from the Cardigan. The corgi is one of the smallest dogs in the Herding Group. Pembroke Welsh Corgis are famed for being the preferred breed of Queen Elizabeth II, who has owned more than 30 during her reign. These dogs have been favoured by British royalty for more than seventy years.

The Pembroke Welsh Corgi has been ranked at #11 in Stanley Coren's The Intelligence of Dogs, and is thus considered an excellent working dog. The Pembroke Welsh Corgi was ranked as the 25th most popular dog in 2011.

Monday, 4 June 2012

Zantedeschia

Zantedeschia ( /ˌzæntɨˈdɛskiə/) is a genus of herbaceous flowering plants in the family Araceae, native to southern Africa from South Africa north to Malawi. The name of the genus was given as a tribute to Italian botanist Giovanni Zantedeschi (1773–1846) by the German botanist Kurt Sprengel (1766–1833). Common names include arum lily for Z. aethiopica, calla, and calla lily for Z. elliottiana and Z. rehmannii although it is neither a true lily (Liliaceae), nor Arum or Calla (related genera in Araceae). It is also often erroneously spelled as "cala lily". It has often been used in many paintings, and is visible in many of Diego Rivera's works of art (see The Flower Vendor, amongst others).

The Zantedeschia are rhizomatous herbaceous perennial plants growing to 1-2.5 m tall with leaves 15–45 cm long. The inflorescence is a showy white, yellow or pink spathe shaped like a funnel with a yellow, central, finger-like spadix.

The Zantedeschia species are poisonous due to the presence of calcium oxalate. "All parts of the plant are toxic, and produce irritation and swelling of the mouth and throat, acute vomiting and diarrhea."[3] However leaves are sometimes cooked and eaten.

Monday, 14 May 2012

The Rhodora - by Ralph Waldo Emerson

On Being Asked, Whence Is The Flower?

In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,
I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,
Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook,
To please the desert and the sluggish brook.
The purple petals, fallen in the pool,
Made the black water with their beauty gay;
Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool,
And court the flower that cheapens his array.
Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why
This charm is wasted on the earth and sky,
Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing,
Then Beauty is its own excuse for being:
Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose!
I never thought to ask, I never knew:
But, in my simple ignorance, suppose
The self-same Power that brought me there brought you.

Monday, 2 July 2007

Let America Be America Again - by Langston Hughes

Let America Be America Again - by Langston Hughes


Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!

Friday, 1 June 2007

Dharma

The way the dog trots out the front door
every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her doghouse
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.

Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance—
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?

Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose,
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.

If only she did not shove the cat aside
every morning
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she
would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.

Billy Collins