WA Delegate: None.
Greenwich Village contains 4 nations.
Today's World Census Report
The Shortest Average Lifespan in Greenwich Village
Citizens of nations ranked highly tend to die earlier, whether from poor health, crime, accident, or government encouragement.
As a region, Greenwich Village is ranked 15,324th in the world for Shortest Average Lifespan.
|1.||The Republic of City Camel||Left-Leaning College State||“City life”|
|2.||The Community of Bleeker Street Bards||Left-wing Utopia||“Peace is free verse poetry”|
|3.||The Giant Blue Coffee-House of Beat Poets and Artists||Left-wing Utopia||“Everything belongs to me because I am poor.”|
|4.||The Commonwealth of Ureyzyq||Iron Fist Consumerists||“He who is transplanted still sustains”|
- 2 days 6 hours ago: Embassy cancelled between Kolaskyva and Greenwich Village.
- 26 days ago: The Bastard of Godsgrace of the region Alliance of Socialist States cancelled the closure of its embassy in Greenwich Village.
- 26 days ago: The Badlands Beyond the Brink of The Bizarre of the region The Illuminati proposed constructing embassies.
- 28 days ago: The Red Burning Vomit of War Dragon of the region Alliance of Socialist States ordered the closure of its embassy in Greenwich Village.
- 35 days ago: Embassy cancelled between The World and Greenwich Village.
- 38 days ago: The Commonwealth of My Left Mouse Click of the region The World ordered the closure of its embassy in Greenwich Village.
- 47 days ago: The Most Serene Republic of E G Smith of the region Libcom proposed constructing embassies.
- 75 days ago: The Technocratic Theocracy of Atelia of the region Kolaskyva cancelled the closure of its embassy in Greenwich Village.
- 75 days ago: The Holy Atheist God of Jaggezstiner of the region Kolaskyva ordered the closure of its embassy in Greenwich Village.
- 78 days ago: Embassy established between Lower Canada and Greenwich Village.
Greenwich Village Regional Message Board
It has been busy with the approaching holidays. this poem used to make me think of snowy forest perhaps at christmas time ... Im not sure why as the words depict fall and summer
O-Jazz-O is a sad and yet uplifting poem
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Nice one Camel. The older I get the more that poem feels like my life and the more Frost sounds like the voice in my own head. Thanks.
Well, speaking of Robert Frost, it's almost the right time to have this one:
The city had withdrawn into itself
And left at last the country to the country;
When between whirls of snow not come to lie
And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove
A stranger to our yard, who looked the city,
Yet did in country fashion in that there
He sat and waited till he drew us out
A-buttoning coats, to ask him who he was.
He proved to be the city come again
To look for something it had left behind
And could not do without and keep its Christmas.
He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees;
My woods -- the young fir balsams like a place
Where houses all are churches and have spires.
I hadn't thought of them as Christmas Trees.
I doubt if I was tempted for a moment
To sell them off their feet to go in cars
And leave the slope behind the house all bare,
Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon.
I'd hate to have them know it if I was.
Yet more I'd hate to hold my trees, except
As others hold theirs or refuse for them,
Beyond the time of profitable growth
The trial by market everything must come to.
I dallied so much with the thought of selling.
Then whether from mistaken courtesy
And fear of seeming short of speech, or whether
From hope of hearing good of what was mine,
I said, "There aren't enough to be worth while."
"I could soon tell how many they would cut,
You let me look them over."
"You could look.
But don't expect I'm going to let you have them."
Pasture they spring in, some in clumps too close
That lop each other of boughs, but not a few
Quite solitary and having equal boughs
All round and round. The latter he nodded "Yes" to,
Or paused to say beneath some lovelier one,
With a buyer's moderation, That would do.
I thought so too, but wasn't there to say so.
We climbed the pasture on the south, crossed over,
And came down on the north.
He said, "A thousand."
"A thousand Christmas trees! -- at what apiece?"
He felt some need of softening that to me:
"A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars."
Then I was certain I had never meant
To let him have them. Never show surprise!
But thirty dollars seemed so small beside
The extent of pasture I should strip, three cents
(For that was all they figured out apiece)__
Three cents so small beside the dollar friends
I should be writing to within the hour
Would pay in cities for good trees like those,
Regular vestry-trees whole Sunday Schools
Could hang enough on to pick off enough.
A thousand Christmas trees I didn't know I had!
Worth three cents more to give away than sell,
As may be shown by a simple calculation.
Too bad I couldn't lay one in a letter.
I can't help wishing I could send you one,
In wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas.
Hope you all had a cool Christmas. Happy New Year when it gets here.
At the Entering of the New Year
I (OLD STYLE) Our songs went up and out the chimney, And roused the home-gone husbandmen; Our allemands, our heys, poussettings, Our hands-across and back again, Sent rhythmic throbbings through the casements On to the white highway, Where nighted farers paused and muttered, "Keep it up well, do they!" The contrabasso's measured booming Sped at each bar to the parish bounds, To shepherds at their midnight lambings, To stealthy poachers on their rounds; And everybody caught full duly The notes of our delight, As Time unrobed the Youth of Promise Hailed by our sanguine sight. II (NEW STYLE) We stand in the dusk of a pine-tree limb, As if to give ear to the muffled peal, Brought or withheld at the breeze's whim; But our truest heed is to words that steal From the mantled ghost that looms in the gray, And seems, so far as our sense can see, To feature bereaved Humanity, As it sighs to the imminent year its say:— "O stay without, O stay without, Calm comely Youth, untasked, untired; Though stars irradiate thee about Thy entrance here is undesired. Open the gate not, mystic one; Must we avow what we would close confine? With thee, good friend, we would have converse none, Albeit the fault may not be thine."
I'm not sure that poem is as cheerful as I thought it might be, upon reading
Christmas was okay, tired from a lot of traveling though
City Camel, that was good reading! It was just cheerful enough; after all, maybe we ought to stand on the threshhold of every new year with some trepidation and awe. Sounds like you need to sit down and rest a spell. Grab a table and make yourself comfortable.
I've been thinking about Bob Kaufman a lot since I stumbled on his poem in my notebook, and now here's another one I really like, called "On":
On yardbird corners of embryonic hopes, drowned in a heroin tear.
On yardbird corners of parkerflights to sound filled pockets in space.
On neuro-corners of striped brains & desperate electro-surgeons.
On alcohol corners of pointless discussion & historical hangovers.
On television corners of cornflakes & rockwells impotent America.
On university corners of tailored intellect & greek letter openers.
On military corners of megathon deaths & universal anesthesia.
On religious corners of theological limericks and
On radio corners of century-long records & static events.
On advertising corners of filter-tipped ice-cream & instant instants
On teen-age corners of comic book seduction and corrupted guitars,
On political corners of wanted candidates & ritual lies.
On motion picture corners of lassie & other symbols.
On intellectual corners of conversational therapy & analyzed fear.
On newspaper corners of sexy headlines & scholarly comics.
On love divided corners of die now pay later mortuaries.
On philosophical corners of semantic desperadoes & idea-mongers.
On middle class corners of private school puberty & anatomical revolts
On ultra-real corners of love on abandoned roller-coasters
On lonely poet corners of low lying leaves & moist prophet eyes.
Not exactly perky and happy I know, but it always made me think.
And speaking of "perky", the espresso machine is being fixed so I put on my old-fashioned percolator to keep the coffee flowing while the repairman replaces a broken part. So rest after your travels CC, and let me get you some coffee.
thank you for the espresso its helped with the faster pace of life! *sips quietly in thought before continuing*
Poetry that makes one think is very good I agree. The poem you wrote is one of those too, to take aspects and say the characteristics of each in a wide array of subjects
This next one is a bit revolutionary
oh baron of industry
do not worry, do sleep well
nobody will hurt you, banker my friend
this truth to you I gently tell
Sleep well, master of currency
on your silk sheets do rest
nothing will happen to you today
enjoy the very best
oh man of influence
your guards you pay enough
they will not turn on you, I'm sure
their life is not that tough
Sleep well, my politician
keep strong in your belief
your driver will not lock your door
and roll you down a cliff
Sleep well, my rich industrialist
dream soft and
your workers will not
turn on you
they live within their means
oh broker of the world
a canapé of gold above you
you and your family are safe
the passive masses love you
my master of the mansion
as our dreams gently burn
the guillotine is gone you know
and never will return
the lobbyist of death
on pillow soft and pure
no one thinks
that you're a curse
and hanging is the cure
Sleep well and know
within your heart
that you are safe and sound
we love our role
in your sick game
no harm to you will come
Sleep well, enjoy the lullaby
I sing for you today
you know that you
are good and strong
we just long to obey
Sleep well and close
your botox eyes
dream of the things
you buy and sell
your future is as pure as gold
we'll never rise and yell
sleep well and know
that all is fine
your order will never fall
don’t look behind
your back today
there's no one there at all
be safe be sure and strong
that we are not that smart
no sword of justice,
true and sharp,
is aimed right at your heart
Sleep well, my friend,
it's all okay
my lullaby will keep you numb
do not fear, enjoy your wealth
as silently we come