Greenwich Village RMB

WA Delegate: None.

Founder: The Giant Blue Coffee-House of Beat Poets and Artists

World Factbook Entry

"The Earth is an Indian thing." - Kerouac

Okay, it's maybe 1958 or 1962, or some other time, because a calendar is just a map of time, you know? The Village is a community of poets, artists, musicians, writers and thinkers.

So find your place and make yourself a home here.
Come to Greenwich Village

Embassies: Woodstock, desert, Bohemian Grove, The Internationale, The Hill, The Isle of Wight, California, Alliance of Socialist States, Leninist Russia, Callington, The SOP, and Lower Canada.

Tags: Independent, Anti-Fascist, Socialist, Anarchist, and Minuscule.

Greenwich Village contains 4 nations.


Today's World Census Report

The Largest Mining Sector in Greenwich Village

As a region, Greenwich Village is ranked 16,300th in the world for Largest Mining Sector.

#NationWA CategoryMotto
1.The Republic of City CamelLeft-Leaning College State“City life”
2.The Community of Bleeker Street BardsLeft-wing Utopia“Peace is free verse poetry”
3.The Giant Blue Coffee-House of Beat Poets and ArtistsLeft-wing Utopia“Everything belongs to me because I am poor.”
4.The Commonwealth of UreyzyqIron Fist Consumerists“He who is transplanted still sustains”

Regional Happenings


Greenwich Village Regional Message Board

Hope you all had a cool Christmas. Happy New Year when it gets here.

Happy 2014!

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

Sleep Well

Sleep well,
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

Sleep well,
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
pleasant dreams
your workers will not
turn on you
they live within their means

Sleep well,
oh broker of the world
a canapé of gold above you
you and your family are safe
the passive masses love you

Sleep well,
my master of the mansion
as our dreams gently burn
the guillotine is gone you know
and never will return

Sleep well,
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

Sleep well,
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

I need espresso. A lot of espresso. Then I'll think about poetry.



Subtle vibrations.
Exquisite sensations.
A near perfect nirvana.
Cleansing us like a sauna.

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by Max Barry

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