China Attacks Dalai Lama, Poems About Tibet, ” To Conquer Is To Float “

To Conquer Is To Float

Ref: China Attacks Dalai Lama
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/25/world/asia/china-attacks-dalai-lama-in-online-burst.html

To Conquer Is To Float

There is a split with heaven like
splinters in the floor of the ocean

The tsunami of Han Chinese rise;
yet, a glorious ignorance
enlightens floating corpses
in the mountains of Tibet

Worry for the victor
who reigns on mountains:
the tears of rivers
overflowing with
Tibetan spirits

Does the wave
claim to be grounded in honor
if it destroys

Can it split mountains
and not be in the crack of Hell

Vicious are victors
afraid of ghosts

There is a Lama in the house
and a question of where
rain reigns, where
a split with heaven will

let tyrants name themselves
gods at roll call, let little names
be engraved on their tombstones

let dragons be afraid of
ghosts flooding graveyards, spirits
doing splits and acrobatics, afraid of
death and

legs of two worlds splayed across lost faces
spirits sitting on victors ingloriously soiled

— Douglas Gilbert

My Three Cousins Pass The Torch

*{this is the 3 cousins version of “Olympics In China”. I changed the title, but had to re-post this, because editing makes for too many complications…}*

The tale of tails wagging:
my three cousins, fallen

cousins driven on edges
of cynicism, bravely
continuing to pass
the torch of
symbolism

One’s traveling by Sudan,
a UN worker who

just wanted
to survive her gambit
into humanitarianism,
come home intact
to her husband, see
the Olympics as
honored guest, perhaps
but

Janjaweed’s fleeing victims
stopped in a camp
for a chat

She, a peacekeeper
listened for awhile
to tales of genocide
from refugees of Darfur

Slaughters on memory pause
too starved to indulge grief for
the dignitary just yet,
a Darfur drudgery one
asked why the worker cried

Bad news through Khartoum —
my child watching cartoons
sends e-mail that
the dog died

Melamine* from China
supporter of Sudan
did the canine in

Don’t they eat dogs in China
the Darfur woman of dead child says

She is insulted,
has lost her appetite for politics

Oil for China
and a veto of sanctions.
Khartoum is happy, and
flies in weapons
for the final solution,
but politely, because diplomacy

is of utmost importance
to China, market dream
for every company
drooling over
billions of customers

She tells her husband
who has a distant cousin
with Chinese roots
to, for God’s sake,
be discreet

Her Mother is from Panama,
hates her husband’s
(as she imagines it)
asian eyes, though
he speaks fluent Spanish
(Chinese, English, Tagalog),
quite a bungee linguist is he

Darfur intrudes:
“Will UN troops
protect us”,
a woman wants to know.
Srbrenica she thinks
to herself, but won’t
dare say

Maybe, safety in Chad,
she demurs, but
even here
another message for her

Leave me alone, she screams,
I’m doing good work

Your Mother had
cough medicine,
diethylene glycol
from China
it says,
a minor counterfeit
resulting in death

Not now,
I’m doing good work

Cousin Jinyan
is under house arrest
for protest

Not now. Get us
tickets for
2008 Summer Games

Her Hubby told me
she’s not to worry —
sending flowers,
has tickets, but

hearing the torch would
travel through Tibet,
I called cousin Molly
the Tibetan trapped in China.

She’s worried
called home to Aba
Sichuan Province, China
to hear the brooding

from monks in the teahouse —
many dead in Tibet, from Lhasa
protests spreading

mad Han hegemony awry
with soldiers and
agent provocateurs
uniforms and robes
plainclothes

Molly doubts the torch is coming.
Thinks runners in Peru.

Odd call
home. She sells
Buddhist statues still,
swears she doesn’t know
the Dalai Lama

I’m confused, heard
she wants to
go to Peru

Odd call home. She
speaks in riddles.

She seems to know Tibet
is not Peru

Not a Westerner
she’s a Tibetan, yet
with biblical aspirations

Speaks of forty days and forty nights
140 dead, and
it seems she seeks
to go to Peru

Odd call home. She

will not peruse the news
from Lhasa,
or even Aba
or Luhuo.
Sichuan food for thought.

She’s singing sweetly
on the phone in English
an old Irish song,
“cockles and mussels
are dead in Peru.”
An odd call is this. Arresting…

Seems she
might be going to
a re-education camp for torture
to learn spelling and about
Szechuan Restaurants in Peru

News of spring colors and flights.
Aba green with
a flood of soldiers.
Whirlybirds hover.

In China
she sells
Buddhist statues still
with cockles and mussels
alive in Peru

No calls,
merry or odd. I
wonder
how is Peru?

Tell me if

a llama died
on the high road
sweet and narrow

greeting Molly of Lhasa
in spirit alive
with a torch
and a ticket to heaven

*Melamine, a chemical derived from coal was found in pet food that killed dogs and cats. It is used in China as a make-believe protein that has no nutritional value. See: “In China, Additive To Animals’ Food Is An Open Secret,” New York Times, April 30, 2007, pp. A1, A8, by David Barboza and Alexei Barrionuevo.

“Poisoned Toothpaste in Panama Is Believed to Be From China,” New York Times, May 19, 2007, p.A3

“2 Activists Are Under House Arrest and Barred From Leaving China,” New York Times, May 19, 2007, p. A3.

“At Shuttered Gateway to Tibet, Unrest Simmers Against Chinese Rule,” New York Times, March 26,2008. p. A7
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert

Olympics In China

The tale of tails wagging:
my three cousins, fallen

cousins driven on edges
of cynicism, bravely
continuing to pass
the torch of
symbolism

One’s traveling by Sudan,
a UN worker who

just wanted
to survive her gambit
into humanitarianism,
come home intact
to her husband, see
the Olympics as
honored guest, perhaps
but

Janjaweed’s fleeing victims
stopped in a camp
for a chat

She, a peacekeeper
listened for awhile
to tales of genocide
from refugees of Darfur

Slaughters on memory pause
too starved to indulge grief for
the dignitary just yet,
a Darfur drudgery one
asked why the worker cried

Bad news through Khartoum —
my child watching cartoons
sends e-mail that
the dog died

Melamine* from China
supporter of Sudan
did the canine in

Don’t they eat dogs in China
the Darfur woman of dead child says

She is insulted,
has lost her appetite for politics

Oil for China
and a veto of sanctions.
Khartoum is happy, and
flies in weapons
for the final solution,
but politely, because diplomacy

is of utmost importance
to China, market dream
for every company
drooling over
billions of customers

She tells her husband
who has a distant cousin
with Chinese roots
to, for God’s sake,
be discreet

Her Mother is from Panama,
hates her husband’s
(as she imagines it)
asian eyes, though
he speaks fluent Spanish
(Chinese, English, Tagalog),
quite a bungee linguist is he

Darfur intrudes:
“Will UN troops
protect us”,
a woman wants to know.
Srbrenica she thinks
to herself, but won’t
dare say

Maybe, safety in Chad,
she demurs, but
even here
another message for her

Leave me alone, she screams,
I’m doing good work

Your Mother had
cough medicine,
diethylene glycol
from China
it says,
a minor counterfeit
resulting in death

Not now,
I’m doing good work

Cousin Jinyan
is under house arrest
for protest

Not now. Get us
tickets for
2008 Summer Games

Her Hubby told me
she’s not to worry —
sending flowers,
has tickets, but

hearing the torch would
travel through Tibet,
I called cousin Molly
the Tibetan trapped in China.

She’s worried
called home to Aba
Sichuan Province, China
to hear the brooding

from monks in the teahouse —
many dead in Tibet, from Lhasa
protests spreading

mad Han hegemony awry
with soldiers and
agent provocateurs
uniforms and robes
plainclothes

Molly doubts the torch is coming.
Thinks runners in Peru.

Odd call
home. She sells
Buddhist statues still,
swears she doesn’t know
the Dalai Lama

I’m confused, heard
she wants to
go to Peru

Odd call home. She
speaks in riddles.

She seems to know Tibet
is not Peru

Not a Westerner
she’s a Tibetan, yet
with biblical aspirations

Speaks of forty days and forty nights
140 dead, and
it seems she seeks
to go to Peru

Odd call home. She

will not peruse the news
from Lhasa,
or even Aba
or Luhuo.
Sichuan food for thought.

She’s singing sweetly
on the phone in English
an old Irish song,
“cockles and mussels
are dead in Peru.”
An odd call is this. Arresting…

Seems she
might be going to
a re-education camp for torture
to learn spelling and about
Szechuan Restaurants in Peru

News of spring colors and flights.
Aba green with
a flood of soldiers.
Whirlybirds hover.

In China
she sells
Buddhist statues still
with cockles and mussels
alive in Peru

No calls,
merry or odd. I
wonder
how is Peru?

Tell me if

a llama died
on the high road
sweet and narrow

greeting Molly of Lhasa
in spirit alive
with a torch
and a ticket to heaven

*Melamine, a chemical derived from coal was found in pet food that killed dogs and cats. It is used in China as a make-believe protein that has no nutritional value. See: “In China, Additive To Animals’ Food Is An Open Secret,” New York Times, April 30, 2007, pp. A1, A8, by David Barboza and Alexei Barrionuevo.

“Poisoned Toothpaste in Panama Is Believed to Be From China,” New York Times, May 19, 2007, p.A3

“2 Activists Are Under House Arrest and Barred From Leaving China,” New York Times, May 19, 2007, p. A3.

“At Shuttered Gateway to Tibet, Unrest Simmers Against Chinese Rule,” New York Times, March 26,2008. p. A7
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert

Tibet Collection

  Tibet Is Not In Peru

She calls home to Aba
Sichuan Province, China
to hear the brooding

from monks in the teahouse —
many dead in Tibet, from Lhasa
protests spread

mad Han hegemony awry
with soldiers and
agent provocateurs
uniforms and robes
plainclothes

Odd call
home. She sells
Buddhist statues still,
swears she doesn’t know
the Dalai Lama

I’m confused, heard
she wants to
go to Peru

Odd call home. She
speaks in riddles.

She seems to know Tibet
is not Peru

Not a Westerner
she’s a Tibetan, yet
with biblical aspirations

Speaks of forty days and forty nights
140 dead, and
it seems she seeks
to go to Peru

Odd call home. She

will not peruse the news
from Lhasa,
or even Aba
or Luhuo.
Sichuan food for thought.

She’s singing sweetly
on the phone in English
an old Irish song,
“cockles and mussels
are dead in Peru.”
An odd call is this. Arresting…

Seems she
might be going to
a re-education camp for torture
to learn spelling and about
Szechuan Restaurants in Peru

News of spring colors and flights.
Aba green with
a flood of soldiers.
Whirlybirds hover.

In China
she sells
Buddhist statues still
with cockles and mussels
alive in Peru

No calls,
merry or odd. I
wonder
how is Peru?

Tell me if

a llama died
on the high road
sweet and narrow

greeting Molly of Lhasa
in spirit alive

  Tibet Is Detached

My cherished Lhasa Apso
my culture’s watchdog,
you are dead by Chinese
poison dog food
imported, trade imposed
stirring the air
with political pollutions
javelins

spearing Tibet
to teãr a tear
from fallen monks
shot in cultural genocide

Compassionate ones,
we are the only true
clique for justice

A gamble on diplomacy
is failing
like a kidney
on Chinese heparin

A dialysis is
to bet Tibet
in a card game
with Artists of War
and propaganda
an atheistic clique
with bullets

For the tourists’ amusement
let them people
the autonomous puppet government
with the buffoonery of their claque

But let us be
the only true clique
left alone
for our prayers
and daily walk

Why would the world
be a lap dog

  The Autonomous Evil Of China

While some are wise enough
to search for the next
reincarnation of the Dalai Lama,
I am not, but

I have found Mao
as a fly in a spider web

Must I speak to
Tse Tung, or indulge
the tongue of my hatred
by laughing at he
who teachers mocked,
the angry secularist who
revenged himself by
collecting grievances, in
confusion, hate for relics,
for Religion, for Buddhism,
who is caught
in a spider web?

Han shopkeepers in Lhasa
speak with condescension
of Tibetans they call
unworthy and lazy
ungrateful for smokestacks

Wang Zhongyong
calls us
“white-eyed wolves”

Yuan Qinghai
a Lhasa taxi driver
calls us filthy
not clean
like Han on their high tanks,
we on our horses

The science of the missile,
the rocket, entices
the Han jackals to embrace
the harmony and unity
of delusion

I know nothing of Lhasa
while plainclothes police lurk

I know Tibetans
have died

Maybe I have strayed, but
how would I know —
all my elders are dead, and
in ignorance of my faith I cry
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert

Tibet Is Not In Peru

She calls home to Aba
Sichuan Province, China
to hear the brooding

from monks in the teahouse —
many dead in Tibet, from Lhasa
protests spread

mad Han hegemony awry
with soldiers and
agent provocateurs
uniforms and robes
plainclothes

Odd call
home. She sells
Buddhist statues still,
swears she doesn’t know
the Dalai Lama

I’m confused, heard
she wants to
go to Peru

Odd call home. She
speaks in riddles.

She seems to know Tibet
is not Peru

Not a Westerner
she’s a Tibetan, yet
with biblical aspirations

Speaks of forty days and forty nights
140 dead, and
it seems she seeks
to go to Peru

Odd call home. She

will not peruse the news
from Lhasa,
or even Aba
or Luhuo.
Sichuan food for thought.

She’s singing sweetly
on the phone in English
an old Irish song,
“cockles and mussels
are dead in Peru.”
An odd call is this. Arresting…

Seems she
might be going to
a re-education camp for torture
to learn spelling and about
Szechuan Restaurants in Peru

News of spring colors and flights.
Aba green with
a flood of soldiers.
Whirlybirds hover.

In China
she sells
Buddhist statues still
with cockles and mussels
alive in Peru

No calls,
merry or odd. I
wonder
how is Peru?

Tell me if

a llama died
on the high road
sweet and narrow

greeting Molly of Lhasa
in spirit alive
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert

The Autonomous Evil Of China

While some are wise enough
to search for the next
reincarnation of the Dalai Lama,
I am not, but

I have found Mao
as a fly in a spider web

Must I speak to
Tse Tung, or indulge
the tongue of my hatred
by laughing at he
who teachers mocked,
the angry secularist who
revenged himself by
collecting grievances, in
confusion, hate for relics,
for Religion, for Buddhism,
who is caught
in a spider web?

Han shopkeepers in Lhasa
speak with condescension
of Tibetans they call
unworthy and lazy
ungrateful for smokestacks

Wang Zhongyong
calls us
“white-eyed wolves”

Yuan Qinghai
a Lhasa taxi driver
calls us filthy
not clean
like Han on their high tanks,
we on our horses

The science of the missile,
the rocket, entices
the Han jackals to embrace
the harmony and unity
of delusion

I know nothing of Lhasa
while plainclothes police lurk

I know Tibetans
have died

Maybe I have strayed, but
how would I know —
all my elders are dead, and
in ignorance of my faith I cry
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert

Tibet Is Detached

My cherished Lhasa Apso
my culture’s watchdog,
you are dead by Chinese
poison dog food
imported, trade imposed
stirring the air
with political pollutions
javelins

spearing Tibet
to teãr a tear
from fallen monks
shot in cultural genocide

Compassionate ones,
we are the only true
clique for justice

A gamble on diplomacy
is failing
like a kidney
on Chinese heparin

A dialysis is
to bet Tibet
in a card game
with Artists of War
and propaganda
an atheistic clique
with bullets

For the tourists’ amusement
let them people
the autonomous puppet government
with the buffoonery of their claque

But let us be
the only true clique
left alone
for our prayers
and daily walk

Why would the world
be a lap dog
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert