Thursday, March 25, 2010

A Poem about the English

some scattered notes
on the settling
of the colonies
by the english
of the English
it was Gosnald-
was one of the first
-report on habits
disposition of the native
and mostly- products
-what products to be had
Pring  was in it
traded for  sassafras and fur
Waymouth on his ship
Archangel mapped
explored the Maine coast
taking back five -
five Indians back
back to England where...
well, 
it was
that they should speak of riches -
riches to be had
this
so money might be raised -
money to be used
to build the colonies.
      Capt Challons made the mistake
took the southern route
his ship,  taken by Spanish
never reached Virginia
Jamestown was holding
but Sagadahoc less than a year
lasted -
the death of George Popham
fire in the storehouse
no gold found
for hope
or inspiration
.......................
Harlow had it in mind
did it -
kidnapped five natives
off Martha’s Vineyard
brought them back to England
and Hunt
he took 24 to  Malago
and there
sold them
one of them Squanto
the Wampanoag
who was in later years
valuable help to the Puritans
until going too far
Massasoit asked for his head
Jamestown still held
but there was
of course
growing hostility towards
and mistrust
of
of course
the English -
the  plague was there
in 1616 - 1617
making it easier for English
interpreted by Puritan
as God
making room for His people
...................................
Wampanoag
unseen
silent at Plymouth
when Puritan came
watching
listening
seeing the English at work
Nauset
set ambush to English
in December
with no success
                         in December
it was found -
English settlement
built on the site
of Pawtuxet -
old Wampanoag village
decimated during the plague
English named this as Plymouth
by 1628
    300 at Salem
    ( Naumkeag then in name
white at Charlestown
more and more into Watertown,
Boston,
Boston growing fast -
fast because of harbor
expansion inland
in forms of trading post
trade at Matianuck    ( now as Windsor
settlement at Pyquag -
the start of Dorchester
   Saukiog became as Hartford for the white men
.............................
what started it was -
was Stone and the seven of his crew
the ones the Pequot killed
many
including Puritan
said he deserved it -
this death
but not the seven -
the dead being English
was enough
and it was revenge
that was wanted
scattered raids
as, like at Saybrook
or, say, at Wethersfield
where
after the ambush
Pequot paddled
up to Fort Saybrook
hoisting the shirts
and skirts
of the dead
as if they were English sails -
raids gave way  to war
war between Pequot and English
Mohegan in it
in it for the English
to prove loyalty
came to Saybrook
with four Pequot heads
and one -
living warrior
for him
living warrior
it was for one leg to be tied to the post
to the other, rope -
and like this
to be torn apart -
by  English
   Capt Underhill says the body
   was roasted and eaten by Mohegan
in a half hour
Mason’s  army killed
six hundred
Pequot men women and children
- this at Fort
    on Mystic River
Mason
in Puritan fashion
took not the credit
played it down
putting it -
the credit
to his god
this -
for judging the heathen
and filling the place with their bodies
Stoughten landed at Pequot Harbor
rounded up natives that remained
thirty-three women and children
given to the Narragansetts
three went to the Massachusetts
fifty-four kept for the Bay Colony itself
- the twenty - two warriors -
executed
.......................
Quinnipiac   ( New Haven
was site of battle
women children and old men
allowed to leave the swamp
warriors tried
in vain
to escape
lay huddled together to die
....................................
muskets loaded with ten to twelve balls
fired at close range
Sassacus and forty warriors
later
found by Mohegan
their heads and hands
arrived at Hartford
presentd for the English
Sassacus
       sachem was dead.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

STILL NOT DEAD YET

So, once again i'm fighting MRSA.
Once more my immune system has decided
it couldn't care less about me.  Foreign bodies,
assorted virus', and unlimited vaguely threatening
entities? Come on in!!! We've just about got
this guy set up for the kill!

So, I get to go to the hospital for 7-10 days
to sit in a chair and get a bunch of Vancomycin
pumped into my poor little veins.
But, and this is the Good Part, I get to come home
every night! That's right ... spend three hours
with the wretched ugly mob of sick people
who insist on some kind of emergency care
when they crack up their Camaros and Hummers!

Why, just today, a fine strapping young man was parading
around the IV area showing of his smacked up fist,
gaily recounting how he had gotten likkered up
and punched a Wall!!!! And Guess What!!!!
The Wall won!!!!  Jesus, Mary and Mailer, help me.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Winter Sick - Tired

Not writing much.
I've been getting terrible joint pain and chills and temperatures up to 102.5.
Maybe once a week - or two weeks. I can't remember - I remember from my past ( and from a glimpse into the future ) having MRSA; a very, very bad thing to have had. Isolated Hospital rooms and gowned up Candy Stripers pushing bad trayed-up hospital food at me as if i'd wolf it down like some bedraggled old, well, wolf.

I'm seeing a Foot Doc who is trying to close the last of my wounds; a stubborn open thing on the bottom of my foot. I've had plastic surgery twice on this thing; semi-successful in that the procedures managed to get ass graft  skin to stick and grow. Last summer I managed my wood lots in person. On the ground, on my own two feet. The wound re-opened and somewhere, had a boogaloo party with something rank and rotten. (Maybe a back room Health Care boondoggle! )

So the Good Doc took a culture and sure enough, MRSA is back. That's what we expected. It's like walking around with a sinus infection, chill popping head cold while being beaten by little Mark McQuires. So i'm trying to hang on and will be probably getting wired up for in home IV therapy.  TIED to the MACHINES again! Little buzzy intrusive things..... Five times a day, I get to have an IV Liquid Diet through a PICT line. This is not a great way to live.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Town, Gown and Remorse in equal Measure





I'm guessing that what the individual wants out of life, how he wishes to spend his working hours and leisure hours counts for a lot. Without getting in to DOB land, i'd say that the people who have been educated at Elite schools and move in rarefied social circles, have an existential moment or two, where they realize, that indeed, "Is that All Their Is" is more than a Peggy Lee song.

After careful rumination, some of them go back to school at their Local Community College and study Beatnik Lit. Or Buddhism.
In other words, some realize they have taken the wrong path for them; and gotten lost on that Path to Boot. Others will never feel that heart pounding in the middle of the night I've wasted my life I should have joined Barbara Seagull in the tree house moment. They'll just go to work in the morning and summer at the Lake House with Cousin Edwards family. They'll ski at Vail. He'll die never knowing how much his wife actually, really did love him and what beautiful wonderful children he has left behind.

Others will be American cowboys; fiercely independent and proud, quite willing to sacrifice and delay satisfaction. He'll change his own oil and do his own brakes on his 6 year old American car. He'll be proud his wife holds an important job at the Hardware Store, even though she only went to the Community College for Upholstery. He'll attend his son's ball games and laugh and cry at all his heroics and miscues. He'll vote in every election and do his own taxes (wrong) explaining the importance of both actions to his disinterested family.

They'll spend a week down at the lake, the south side, with the slightly weedy, muddy and rocky beach. They'll ski on Fridays at the Kenwood Ski Tow.

He'll work overtime and his son will get into Boston University, a Jewel of a school, nestled in the Arms of Boston, surrounded by constant reminders of what made America, America. He'll hear 40 languages and find his love at an Abbott and Costello Revival at a small, bum laden theatre.

He'll go; probably the damn cigarettes his wife yelled at him about. He will be attended to by friends and family and possibly a shadow outline of Michael; a saintly presence during his entire
life.

But - who knows - such is the fate of those of us who pursue pieces of paper.......

ah .....sunshine ....

... you Jewels, you. 

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

VINYL ALBUMS





Back in the '60's you learned when Harvey was getting the new Beatles album in. You'd get in line on Central Street outside of Harvey's Book Land and wait for him to open. When he did, you'd enter and pay his daughter. He preferred that you pay with 3 singles as the price was $2.50 + .15 for tax. Teresa was standing on the right, with a stack of dimes and quarters, accepting the folding stock and handing you back your change. She'd have a five on the counter, close to the edge, in case some rich kid from Chelmsford had rolled in to town. She'd say "Thank you" and you'd shuffle ahead and when it was your turn, you'd spy Harvey half hidden amongst the plain brown boxes. You'd hold out your hand and Harvey would hand over the sacramental vinyl and you'd make a left turn and walk out into the grit and chop of Central Street, Lowell, Mass not knowing Kerouac, the great Beat Angel himself would right then, be up Back Central at Nicky's Bar regaling the regulars with stories of Old Angel Midnight.

It would take years of friendship with Harvey, before he would acknowledge the times Jack would slip in the back way and watch his flock running their hands over the spines and edges of the holy goof book classics stacked in haphazard order. How they'd sip from a bottle of wine and marvel at the will of the people to read, desire, consume.

That's gone. Harvey now running with Jack and Poe; chasing Lucy down Merrimack Street, threatening to dip her pig tails into the universal ink.


Saturday, January 2, 2010

Old Hippy & Young Mr. Wards Poster Art


Just got the "Ballad of John & Yoko from Sean Ward of Toronto (and the World), and hung it on the Far Wall of my Barking Dogs Recording Studio and Secret Hide Out. It's the first thing you see when you walk through the (open) door. It's colorful and Witty and draws attention. I want him to do a pencil sketch of me sitting next to Harry with both of us looking down at the floor and noticing it needs sweeping. Done in the style of that famous B.B. King-Eric Clapton, sitting on the Fender Amps photograph.

Check out seanward.net for Beatles art, comics and general all around nice guy stuff.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Mot & Mat Play Guitars Very Nicely

And sing , too.
If you are into New Hampshire and acoustic guitars and Bluesy electric snapping and popping; check these guys out!!!!!!

http://file313.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html