1. Standard memberBosse de Nage
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    10 Mar '06 07:47
    Dao are you?
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    10 Mar '06 09:171 edit
    http://www.winningwriters.com/contests/war/2004/wa04_chuang.php

    Finalist - Angie Chuang

    TET LION DANCE

    Lunar New Year in Phu Lam, Vietnam

    I.

    We swept the village courtyard this morning,
    But now the tumbling dancers' white shirts
    Bear earthen prints. Dirt restoring
    Its rightful place on this day of rebirth.
    Years of low, determined sun have faded
    Our pagoda's saffron columns, but not
    The ecstatic cherry and gold lions-sated
    Only by their own extravagance, caught
    In the form of a child's cartoon. Giant,
    Gaping puppet head. Silken body trails,
    And two sets of human legs act
    A melodrama under a playful veil.
    From each child, laughter explodes.
    Unburden memory's graying load.

    II.

    Unburden memory's graying. Load
    The shrines with frail columns of incense.
    The dancers kneel, await a blessing bestowed
    By village ancestors. All is reverence,
    All is reference-to our past.
    War is not a cloud. It is not meant
    To pass over us. Ringing of cannon blasts,
    Corpses clogging the river: ever-present,
    Embedded into the dirt's memory.
    The dancers stand, their gold and red
    Lion legs lightened by a dusting of history.
    This earth spoken for, by the dead.
    Joss sticks burn down, smoke ribbons become
    Our ancestors' sigh. Finally, the drums.

    III.

    Our ancestors sigh: Finally, the drums
    Begin to sound, each strike against cowhide
    Ripples the still afternoon air. Sound rides
    A collective heartbeat. All thoughts succumb
    To rhythm, all purpose surrenders to the sum
    Of a child's abandon. Hands on either side
    Of his face, he swings his head in wide
    Arcs, like the lions. Beneath noise, joy hums.

    Now, the lions move for the bait:
    Red envelope tethered to a flagpole
    Flying Ho Chi Minh's yellow star.
    We don't look at this obligatory scar.
    Instead, cheers as the puppet mouth pulls
    The reward. The dance is complete.

    IV.

    The reward after the dance: Complete
    Abundance at the table, plates brim
    With sunny pearls of jackfruit, thin
    And creamy-fleshed slices of sacred meat.
    For Tet, all must be new and sweet.
    (Just this morning, she had been a plump hen.)
    Crisp, unworn clothes skim
    A surface over poverty. Today, we eat.

    Thirty-five years ago, we heard no warning.
    That day began with our world on fire.
    Cycles hence, each year we renew
    Our faith with velvet incense, a new
    Prayer cleansing the past's mire.
    We swept the village courtyard this morning.



    This poem was a finalist in the 2004 War Poetry Contest sponsored by Winning Writers. Copyright is reserved to the author.
  3. Standard memberBosse de Nage
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    10 Mar '06 09:23
    Originally posted by LemonJello
    http://www.winningwriters.com/contests/war/2004/wa04_chuang.php
    This poem was a finalist in the 2004 War Poetry Contest sponsored by Winning Writers. Copyright is reserved to the author.
    I hereby declare this strange attractor operational.
  4. Joined
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    12 Mar '06 09:13
    Originally posted by Bosse de Nage
    I hereby declare this strange attractor operational.
    I have only a vague idea of what that means, which is why I rec'd it. But I thought the above was a beautiful little poem. If you hadn't started this thread, I may never have found it!!!

    BTW, I like your avatar right now (you seem to change it often).
  5. Standard memberBosse de Nage
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    13 Mar '06 09:45
    Originally posted by LemonJello
    I have only a vague idea of what that means, which is why I rec'd it. But I thought the above was a beautiful little poem. If you hadn't started this thread, I may never have found it!!!

    BTW, I like your avatar right now (you seem to change it often).
    Ha ha ha. "Tet Lion" is an anagram of "no title". Strange attractors occur in chaos theory (I might have confused it with a singularity though). The avatar is a reworked chaos cross, originally a sticker for the group Coil, whose music was steeped in similar.
  6. Standard memberBosse de Nage
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    14 Mar '06 17:50
    Originally posted by Bosse de Nage
    Ha ha ha. "Tet Lion" is an anagram of "no title". Strange attractors occur in chaos theory (I might have confused it with a singularity though). The avatar is a reworked chaos cross, originally a sticker for the group Coil, whose music was steeped in similar.
    Explanations ruin everything.
  7. Standard memberfrogstomp
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    14 Mar '06 23:572 edits
    Originally posted by Bosse de Nage
    Ha ha ha. "Tet Lion" is an anagram of "no title". Strange attractors occur in chaos theory (I might have confused it with a singularity though). The avatar is a reworked chaos cross, originally a sticker for the group Coil, whose music was steeped in similar.
    In an effort to help out a fellow Revenger, here's a singularity:

    >>>>>>>>> .
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    15 Mar '06 00:30
    Originally posted by Bosse de Nage
    Explanations ruin everything.
    Only contingently. But this has been a great thread. Interestingly, 'Tet Lion' is also an anagram for 'Lone Tit' -- a singular boob, as it were.
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    15 Mar '06 00:56
    Originally posted by frogstomp
    In an effort to help out a fellow Revenger, here's a singularity:

    >>>>>>>>> .
    Speaking of great avatars...
  10. Standard memberfrogstomp
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    15 Mar '06 02:25
    Originally posted by LemonJello
    Speaking of great avatars...
    I was lucky I found it in that hot place where I spent my last vacation.
  11. Standard memberfrogstomp
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    15 Mar '06 02:261 edit
    heyyyyyyy
    edit jeez what a dumb test that was
  12. Standard memberBosse de Nage
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    15 Mar '06 07:461 edit
    Originally posted by LemonJello
    Only contingently. But this has been a great thread. Interestingly, 'Tet Lion' is also an anagram for 'Lone Tit' -- a singular boob, as it were.
    A solitary boob with a can of lube
    Waiting in the corner of the beer stube
    For chance and circumstance to collude:
    Right on the beat, there's my rube

    Hey mister do you wanna see something really special
    Take a look at this picture of the back of your head
    Move a little closer something's moving in the bristles
    The fingers of the left hand are talking to the dead

    Counting all the money in the backyard of the temple
    I whistle through my teeth at the greying of the sun
    Somewhere in the city there's a man whose pocket's lighter
    Heart jingling with the small change of the lines I spun
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    15 Mar '06 09:12
    Originally posted by Bosse de Nage
    A solitary boob with a can of lube
    Waiting in the corner of the beer stube
    For chance and circumstance to collude:
    Right on the beat, there's my rube

    Hey mister do you wanna see something really special
    Take a look at this picture of the back of your head
    Move a little closer something's moving in the bristles
    The fingers of the left hand are ...[text shortened]... ere's a man whose pocket's lighter
    Heart jingling with the small change of the lines I spun
    That's lovely. My spiritual D-cup runneth over.
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