I don’t suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it.

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The Gundagai Times and Tumut, Adelong and Murrumbidgee District Advertiser (NSW : 1868 – 1931), Friday 21 September 1917

1 1 1 1 1 The Gundagai Times and Tumut, Adelong and Murrumbidgee District Advertiser (NSW - 1868 - 1931), Friday 21 September 19171 1 1 1 1 co5ntesdulitclosr00botr_0006_Fotor

white stucco dreaming
and snakes that morphed into nylon hoses at the terror
of Mum’s scorn
snakes whose cool venom we sprayed onto the white stucco,
temporarily blushing it pink
amid an atmosphere of Saturday morning grass cuttings
and flirtatious melodies of ice-cream trucks
that echoed through little black minds
and sent the labrador insane

White stucco dreaming by Samuel Wagan Watson

 http://ozpoemaday.wordpress.com/category/aboriginal/

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The mirror is the worst judge of true beauty. Sophia Nam

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The perfect man uses his mind as a mirror.It grasps nothing. It regrets nothing.It receives but does not keep.

Chuang Tzu

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IN DOUBLE MIRRORS

In double mirrors

                true and false

we are frangible

                skin’s visible default

bony anchors

                loosening ligaments

the moment of meiosis.

                How negligibly begun

but no less purposeful

                zygotes, chiasmic.

As slow doors open

http://redroomcompany.org/poem/angela-gardner/double-mirrors/

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It is only God that saves a cow that has no tail from flies.

 

 

http://www.squidoo.com/african-quotes-proverbs-and-sayings

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Me come yah fe drink milk, me noh come yah fe count cow

I came here to drink milk, not to count cows.

Mind your own business. Enjoy what you are entitled to. Don’t worry about details which do not concern you.

 https://www.nlj.gov.jm/?q=jamaican-proverbs#cow

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The Cows on Killing Day

BY LES MURRAY

All me are standing on feed. The sky is shining.
All me have just been milked. Teats all tingling still
from that dry toothless sucking by the chilly mouths
that gasp loudly in in in, and never breathe out.
All me standing on feed, move the feed inside me.
One me smells of needing the bull, that heavy urgent me,
the back-climber, who leaves me humped, straining, but light
and peaceful again, with crystalline moving inside me.
Standing on wet rock, being milked, assuages the calf-sorrow in me.
Now the me who needs mounts on me, hopping, to signal the bull.
The tractor comes trotting in its grumble; the heifer human
bounces on top of it, and cud comes with the tractor,
big rolls of tight dry feed: lucerne, clovers, buttercup, grass,
that’s been bitten but never swallowed, yet is cud.
She walks up over the tractor and down it comes, roll on roll
and all me following, eating it, and dropping the good pats.
The heifer human smells of needing the bull human
and is angry. All me look nervously at her
as she chases the dog me dream of horning dead: our enemy
of the light loose tongue. Me’d jam him in his squeals.
Me, facing every way, spreading out over feed.
One me is still in the yard, the place skinned of feed.
Me, old and sore-boned, little milk in that me now,
licks at the wood. The oldest bull human is coming.
Me in the peed yard. A stick goes out from the human
and cracks, like the whip. Me shivers and falls down
with the terrible, the blood of me, coming out behind an ear.
Me, that other me, down and dreaming in the bare yard.
All me come running. It’s like the Hot Part of the sky
that’s hard to look at, this that now happens behind wood
in the raw yard. A shining leaf, like off the bitter gum tree
is with the human. It works in the neck of me
and the terrible floods out, swamped and frothy. All me make the Roar,
some leaping stiff-kneed, trying to horn that worst horror.
The wolf-at-the-calves is the bull human. Horn the bull human!
But the dog and the heifer human drive away all me.
Looking back, the glistening leaf is still moving.
All of dry old me is crumpled, like the hills of feed,
and a slick me like a huge calf is coming out of me.
The carrion-stinking dog, who is calf of human and wolf,
is chasing and eating little blood things the humans scatter,
and all me run away, over smells, toward the sky.

Les Murray, “The Cows on Killing Day” from Subhuman Redneck Poems. Copyright © 1997 by Les Murray

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/178026

When the head rope of a net is pulled up, all the meshes open. Chinese original: 纲举目张

When a key problem is solved, the rest of the issues relating to it will also be unknotted.

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Mother, Mother
Mother, Mother, I am ill

Call for the doctor over the hill.

In came the doctor,
In came the nurse,
In came the lady with the alligator purse.
Measles, said the doctor.
Mumps, said the nurse.
Nothing, said the lady with the alligator purse.
Out goes the doctor, out goes the nurse,
Out goes the lady with the alligator purse.

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The Argus (Melbourne, Vic. : 1848 – 1957), Saturday 12 November 1910,

A SUPPRESSED POEM BY TENNYSON

1 1 1 1 1 The Argus (Melbourne, Vic

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Every rope gat two ends.

Guyana.

http://www.guyana.org/proverbs.html

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Rope Rhyme

Get set, ready now, jump right in
Bounce and kick and giggle and spin
Listen to the rope when it hits the ground
Listen to that clappedy-slappedy sound
Jump right up when it tells you to Come back down, whenever you do
Count to a hundred, count by ten
Start to count all over again
That’s what jumping is all about
Get set, ready now,
jump
right
out!

Eloise Greenfield

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Franklin D Roosevelt

When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.

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Not Last Night but the night before.
Twenty-four robbers came knocking at my door,
They called me out for the world to see,
And this is what they said to me–
‘Spanish dancer turn around,
Spanish dancer touch the ground,
Spanish dancer do the kicks,
Spanish dancer do the splits!

http://www.homeschool.co.uk/jump-rope-songs-and-skipping-rope-rhymes/

O Humpty! O Humpty! You’ve had a fearful spill

If Walt Whitman Had Written Humpty Dumpty
By Frank Jacobs

O Humpty!  O Humpty! You’ve had a fearful spill,
You’ve tumbled from the stoney height,
your’re lying cold and still;
Your shell is cracked, your yolk runs out,
your breath is faint and wheezy;
You landed as a scambled egg, instead of over easy;
The king has sent his steeds and men
To mend you if they can;
I pray that they did not forget
To bring a frying pan.

http://www.brownielocks.com/kidpoems.html

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Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall:
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty in his place again.

‘That last line is much too long for the poetry,’ she added, almost out loud, forgetting that Humpty Dumpty would hear her.

‘Don’t stand chattering to yourself like that,’ Humpty Dumpty said, looking at her for the first time, ‘but tell me your name and your business.’

‘My name is Alice, but —’

‘It’s a stupid name enough!’ Humpty Dumpty interrupted impatiently. ‘What does it mean?’

Must a name mean something?’ Alice asked doubtfully.

‘Of course it must,’ Humpty Dumpty said with a short laugh: ‘my name means the shape I am — and a good handsome shape it is, too. With a name like yours, you might be any shape, almost.’

‘Why do you sit out here all alone?’ said Alice, not wishing to begin an argument.

‘Why, because there’s nobody with me!’ cried Humpty Dumpty. ‘Did you think I didn’t know the answer to that? Ask another.’

‘Don’t you think you’d be safer down on the ground?’ Alice went on, not with any idea of making another riddle, but simply in her good-natured anxiety for the queer creature. ‘That wall is so very narrow!’

‘What tremendously easy riddles you ask!’ Humpty Dumpty growled out. ‘Of course I don’t think so! Why, if ever I did fall off — which there’s no chance of — but if I did —’ Here he pursed up his lips, and looked so solemn and grand that Alice could hardly help laughing. ‘Ifdid fall,’ he went on, ‘the King has promised me — ah, you may turn pale, if you like! You didn’t think I was going to say that, did you? The King has promised me — with his very own mouth — to — to —’

‘To send all his horses and all his men,’ Alice interrupted, rather unwisely.

‘Now I declare that’s too bad!’ Humpty Dumpty cried, breaking into a sudden passion. ‘You’ve been listening at doors — and behind trees — and down chimneys — or you couldn’t have known it!’

http://sabian.org/looking_glass6.php