Saturday, October 27, 2007

LEARNING FOR ME AND LEARNING FOR YOU

The article below was published in THE TIMES OF INDIA- NIE edition of Hyderabad on 5th December 2007 with the tiltle: ALL WORK AND NO PLAY


(An article on the present ‘Learning Process’ at school level in Indian education system and its influence on learners)

“The difficult is that which can be done immediately; the impossible is that which takes a little longer.”

_GEORGE SANTAYANA

It’s not uncommon to witness on countless occasions pupils being referred to as dummies and duffers, slow learners and low scorers, buffoons and weak students(I am afraid it doesn’t mean physically weak for I have been a weak person since my school days.) and an immeasurable tail of tags and nomenclatures—in most of the cases, taking “ marks scored against the maximum marks” as the sole parameter.

On questioning the credibility of such an outdated yet reckoned as a neo-parameter; people come out with fashionably packed ready made reasons to justify as though they have excelled in the post-doctoral research on the theory of “The survival of the fittest” and “Score high to withstand the competitive world!”.

Teaching has become teaching per se (in Indian perspective). As long as the principles of evaluation in our education system continue to numerator/denominator kind of a thing, there is hardly any chance far progressive surge in this regard.

Let the child enjoy his learning and learning ambiance and let’s not condition the child to breathe in stress. Let their dreams be not haunted by loads of worksheets, homework or home assignments. I f the present day thirty plus folks are asked to speak about their childhood, they would narrate an endless enchanting stories of their reveries of childhood days. I have apprehensions on what would the present generation kids have to tell about their childhood after a decade or so. Whom would they curse for not having played “HIDE AND SEEK?”

Everyone is born with a working brain, let there be no doubt about it (leaving aside the exceptions). Why then they shouldn’t be given their share of freedom to prove their mettle and individuality? How long should they lament for their own birthright?

“Child is the father of the son..............” (altered)

The need of the hour is not the so-called teachers but facilitators or may be supporters. I wouldn’t mind referring them as cordial helpers. Thrust should be on enhancing inquisitiveness and creativity of the child, originality of thought, application of knowledge, process of reasoning and analysis and imbibing moral values.

Although the pedagogues have for ages hailed these objectives as crux of any education system, nevertheless systematic approach in deliverance and practicality especially in India has largely been unsatisfactory. We have been successfully able to ‘produce’ the sophisticated and techie brains for the global market but have scantily been able to bring down illiteracy in its real terms.

“ Something is rotten in the state of affairs…….!”

Where have we gone wrong? To answer this million-dollar question we need to get back to the rudimentary business of learning process.

How qualitative and productive is our learning process?

An unfenced convivial learning environment around the child opens up ample opportunities which would act as catalysts to bore and shape the multiple intelligences. The

By-product of this will be an optimistic and progressive social being. In juxtaposition to this a conditioned and dogmatic atmosphere of learning will only hatch either prototypes of parasitism or self –centered individuals. Both are uncalled for in this present world of civilization.


Taken the size of the “Y” generation population, ‘ India is the youngest nation in the world’.

Who should guide this bubbling sizeable population to a well-groomed future?

Here is list of some suggestive measures which any pragmatic thinker would come out with_

* Role of boardroom policy making and syllabus framing:

The big heads involved in policy making and syllabus framing are accountable for what the whole of a generation is being imparted.

It shouldn’t become a Byzantine complexity nor should it be influenced by political vendetta. It’s high time they frame syllabi which kindles and boosts the learners’ thought process not mere cramming culture.

* Teachers (The torch bearers) :

They are the one on whom the whole world bestows the responsibility of grooming the learners to build not only their careers but also better societies. Unlike the other services it’s not a thankless job. Aristotle of bygone centuries is still revered as the highly inspired teacher. What the teacher imbibes lasts forever in the minds of learners. Learners get molded the way she molds them. The service should not be a mere means of bread earning alternate. It ought to be accepted as passion and honour.

* Parents/guardians (Emotional link):


They should be open and communicative, soothing and caring. They should never be repulsive, should cultivate good traits in their children and heed to their problems and needs. Avoid comparing the child with neighbours’ child which might result in negativity. Parental pressure will put a child in trauma succeeded by worst repercussions of any scale, play the role of a friend for an open verbal ism and compassionate enough to bust out stress. Give the child freedom that it often craves for but with a tinge of caution sensibly communicated.

* Why not bank on individual talents:


Every individual is born with some talent.
Identifying and improvising such talents in a child at the right age and stage will render fruitful dividends and of course opens up a Pandora of alternate opportunities in the follow.
Painting, dancing, singing, creative writing, photography, acting, orating and debating, scientific and mathematical experimentations to list some of them are today part of the curriculum by de-fault. A child showing interest in a particular art/skill must be provided a platform with enough time and space to nurture and excel. It could be any of the arenas listed above.
These forms of art sprout aesthetic sense, creativity and spontaneity in a child and double the energy and spirit. There is absolutely nothing in concrete to lose as its germane to the process of learning.


* Art of expression (Magic of speaking skills):


teachers,parents and all other elders in the life of a child must motivate,encourage and facilitate it to express openly and fearlessly. help it to overcome inhibitions. the more one is coaxed to express, the higher his confidence grows. it's conspicuous that a confident child performs better than anything else. at school peer learning in the form of group discussions, debates and a variety of other techniques come in handy to enhance communicating skills.


* “I Can Do” attitude:

“Don’t mind your make up but make up your mind”

I Can Do (ICD) attitude should be implanted right from the inception of schooling. Let the child soar into an endless sky fluffing with confidence to embrace its DREAMS.

With an ICD factor,

If a pretty hocker called Dhiru Bhai Ambani from a small town in Gujarat could build one of the richest business establishments in the world,

If a middle class lad called APJ Abdul Kalam from a small island town Rameshwaram in Tamil Nadu could go on to become the highest citizen of India,

If a Ludwig Van Beethoven born in Bonn in Germany I\even after turning into complete deaf could become world famous pianist and music composer,

If an ordinary soldier in the French army could become an emperor to rule half of Europe,

Why can’t anyone else, YOU and ME, make a DIFFERENCE!!

Honing a child is not hatching chicks. It’s a complex, continuous and comprehensive process of bringing out the best in the child as well as morphosing its abilities into an all round development for a tranquil global society.

The saga of “Learning for me and learning for you” should go on in a contentious manner. The crowd encompassing around a child should sow the seeds and deliver the requisite goods and the transformation automatically takes place and the child reciprocates by standing high.



Sunday, September 23, 2007

FAITH
Pray they the sinking sun in its doom
Spreading on the barren lands of deserts in evening,
Like the sentenced satins;
Whiten they blotted arcs of hymns silly on the bricks powdered
My foot then they call him their mighty Almighty.

Pray they the rising moon in its gloom
Diving into the sinned waters of brooks east flowing,
Like the endangered dolphins;
Nail they framed portraits of spirits ghostly on the walls mudded
My foot then they call him their mighty Almighty.

to be continued...

ಮುಳುಗೋ ರವಿಯ ಪೂಜಿಸುವರವರು ಅವನ ಸಮಾಧಿ ಸೇರೋವಾಗ

ಮೈಚಾಚಿ ಮಲಗಿರಲು ಮರಳಿನ ಮಹಾಸಮುದ್ರದೊಳಗ

ಅಮ್ರುತದೊಳಗೆ ಮಧಹಸ್ತವಾದ ಮುನಿಬಲಾಗದ ಹಾಗೆ

ಚಪ್ಪರವೇ ಇಲ್ಲದ ಮನೆ ಗೋಡೆಗಳ ಸುಣ್ಣ ಬಡಿಯುತಿಹರವರ್ ಜಪಮಾದುತಲಿಹರವರು

ಹುಚು ಸಂತೆಯ ಹುಚ್ಚರಿವರು ಅವನ ಕರೆಯುವರು ಅಲ್ಲಮನೆಂದು!

Monday, September 17, 2007

THE FAKIR, THE QUEEN AND THE SHEEP

I am summoned by the mother of angels my Queen
She in her kitty has a thousand offers to make
You know She has descended here to heal every problem of problems
You know She hates to see her children sleep in the laps of hunger
You know She is concerned
Compassionate, affectionate,loving,soothing,caring,sharing
Yes She is everything
Everything that a Queen is destined to have
She is my Queen and your Queen and unquestionably every body's
You know she wants every child of hers to be crowned
Knows She even in her depths of clouded sights She can't fulfil that
But challenges She, She will have that realised one day, yes one fine day.
She has a husband smart and handsome
He rarely attends the court
He rarely comes out of that hilltop castle
He rarely travels countryside
Saw him I last time when the Queen bore her first son.
Next month her son is expected to be father if everything with his better half goes right.

I am summoned by the mother of angels my Queen
Our knight of the eastern province last Sunday was summoned too
A man of business,thought and doing
He had differences with different courtiers of the Queen
It was about the legal taxes and soaring prices groceries and dipping prices of automobiles
Sheep are we all, do we all as told we are to
Fields are ours, pastures are ours, crops are ours, seeds are ours
plough we, irrigate we, manure we, harvest we
Sacks eight out ten that every sheep grows is Royal tax!
That comes back to market sheds is costlier than loamy soil under our cracked feet
Plough we for food ploughed are our bellies taxes they call it for!
Our knight sought for mercy
And given he was plenty
Vultures of our eastern province are loyal too
they went on an indefinite hunger strike
they calmly rejected to dine on our knight
And then came the order
and
they were sent to heaven too
Not to deny the fact with all royal respects for being so loyal.

I am summoned by mother of angels my Queen
I am the knight now, knight of the sheep, sheep of the eastern province, province of my Queen
I am the knight now, of faith have they bestowed upon me an honour to yell
Vultures of the eastern province in Lords I pray
To reject to dine on my flesh of my sullen limbs
Assured my fleet to fight for the caged rights without any respite.

to be continued

Sunday, September 16, 2007

LOST IN MARRIAGE

I know da dead one never come back!
The living one are married!
The married one might hardly divorse!
The divorsed one will carry kids!
I dont like kids!
SO marriage is an IDIOTIC COMPROMISE!
That most of the folks get SUCKED in.

lIVE LION (moderator of www.inspirationpeak.com)from Canada has left the following criticism over my lines scribbled abive:
Posted: September 15, 2007, 8:28 pm

I have NEVER considered marriage a compromise. I love my spouse and my kids. I was not sucked into anything. I more than willingly gave myself to love and be loved. To grow, nurture and encourage side by side with my loved one. Faithfulness, honor, perseverance, wisdom, gratitude, understanding, emotional growth, fulfillment, enhanced, balance, loyalty, respect, security, joy, sensual bliss, gentleness, dignity and love understood in all its forms from the most gentle to the hardest to the ease of life. This is just a few words to describe what marriage has bestowed on me and mine!
Marriage when given 100% by 100% as much as one knows or becomes aware of along the journey together... is one of the most astounding of all the human relationships.

I would defend mine to my very own death! inlove

Marriage is fixed within the heart and that deep bond is one of the greatest that could be known... unfortunately we live in an imperfect world. Hurt people hurt people. That is why I believe I personally have the right and priviledge to find all the barriers within me that hinder my relationship with my own spouse... so I am the spouse that mine deserves! Funny how it has a give and take effect... because my spouse is also evolving more and more over the years into the man of my reality and not dreams!

I am sorry you have not had this embrace of love as the known example in your life Sanjeevdavinci... but please be assured... it does indeed exist! And I do believe that it is indeed the divine order that heaven did want established for all who partake of it. Again, it is people's brokeness and not the holiness of creation that has made so many marriages null and void.

Love Lion~*MaritalBlissCanHoldManyATwist
ButIfYouFocusAndUnwindYouCanHaveALifeLongGoodTimePaw

____________

I'm letting my soul sing ~.*.~ ~*

William Wordsworth:
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart...

Friday, September 14, 2007

missing soul

ಯಾವ ಗತಕಾಲದ ಪುಣ್ಯ ಕರ್ಮಕಾಂಡಗಳ ಪ್ರತಿಫಾಲಾವೋ
ಯಾವ ಯಕ್ಷ ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆಗಳಿಗೆ ತಪ್ಪುತ್ತರದ ದಂಡನೆಯೋ
ನಾನ್ ಈ ಭುವಿಗೆ ಧಬ ಅಂಥ ಬಂದು ಬಿದ್ದೆ
ಬಿದ್ದೆ ಬಿದ್ದು ಎದ್ದೆ
ಎದ್ದೆ ಎದ್ದು ಮತ್ತೆ ಬಿದ್ದೆ
ಬಿದ್ದೆದ್ದು ಎದ್ದು ಬೀಳುವುದುರಾಗ
ಅಂಬಿಕಾತನಯದತ್ತ ತನುವನ್ನ ಬಿಟ್ಟು ಮಣ್ಣಿಗೆ
ಮನವನ್ನ ಬಿಟ್ಟು ನಮಗೆ
ಕಾನೆಯಗಿದ್ದರು!!

Im what I am
An athiest they call me as I never pray them who they pray,
Barring my insanity I was never a great witty,
Yes they say
They say I was born to die and chronically cry,
In my endaevour to rosey hell of pre-historic talking apes
Zipped their skins off stand they cramming;
With the sound of cronches behind the curtains of Rangayana,
How far shall I walk on my weired bony arms?
She is not around to drudge me ahead.
I am born to die
So shall I die.
Send me a mail or female
But with something that keeps me alive till I die.

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

AND THERE ARE


There are commons fixing fences for us
There are gurus fermenting lives for us
There are hatchers cooking lives for us.
And there are
Those all whom you know
Those all who you know but recall not
Those all whom you crave not to recall at all.
And there are
Things that you loved to play with
Things that were of the finest gifts couriered to you
Things that you always wished to present to
Things that you loved to hate
Things that you hated to love.
And there are
Thoughts which squeezed your childhood
Thoughts which you shared on your fairy walks
Thoughts which ignited your dampness
Thoughts which you breathed out to change a hundred lives around
Thoughts which encroached into your id.
And there are
Theatres where characters chameleonise at every stroke of midnight
Theatres where bondages are bounded over decades and broken overnight
Theatres where wired clowns are baked on biddings
Theatres where mules are cloned and human skin tanned
Theatres where mediocre tangle with the bourgeois.
And there are
Thatches full of Somalian skeletons and Ugandan skulls hung all over
Thatches painted in African blood shades
Thatches ornamented with the oriental empty earthen hungry bowls
Thatches across euroamerica with reinforced steel and cemented beams,pillars and beams
Thatches with golden canopies down the stairs of world bank with civilized beggars.
And there are
Thinkers who really thought over their heads and difference they made
Thinkers who really didn’t boil their heads yet difference they made
Thinkers who were buried alive ‘coz though tugged for Utopian reality
Thinkers who sneaked, demolished and demised in the orbital pull
Thinkers who woke up erupted like Fujiyama under the scorching sun.
And there are
Thugs flicking and flicking and flicking and flicking
Thugs being caught and beaten up released and felicitated ‘gain
Thugs with empty bellies they go daintily raising arms for alms
Thugs baptized to be put into the gentleman’s list
Thugs licensed to ease inside parliaments, assemblies and august chairs.

CHE


Is born
Born in the thick greens of Bolivia
Beware! All the agents of the new world;
Che is born-
Born in the deserts of Atakama
Born in the jungles of Mississippi
Born in the Sahyadri hills
Born in the Siberian colds
Born in the skyscrapers of choicago
Born in the dark world,
Be ware! All the machine men;
Che is born-
Westerlies will retreat
Monsoons will retreat
Tornadoes will retreat
All shall assemble at Leningrad
Alight here till the bell rings
Disperse we shall
To the hamlets and megalopolis
To the huts and city heights
To the oil fields of gulf and Wall street
Soil troughs are borrowed to reverberate
Seeds are sprouting
And the sunflowers facing the east.
Che is born-
Beware the bulls!


RON ATCHISON from Sanfransisco has the following comments:


Ron Atchison
Inspiration Peak

Joined: Nov. 2001
Posts: 120
Location: San Francisco
Now Reading: The People's History of the World - by Howard Zinn

Posted: April 15, 2007, 8:15 pm

Hello Sanjeev....

I just wanted to comment on this poem 'Che'.... it's powerful and beautifully written... and most of all, I think it's the most 'readable' of all the poems you've shared with us. I think it's so important that poems be written in a way that the masses, the 'everyday joes', the working people can appreciate - especially poems of a political nature.

All my best to you friend!

Ron
Inspiration Peak


Edited by Ron Atchison on April 15, 2007, 8:29 pm.

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

BEING RULED


Gaudy with grotesque countenance
Roll calls uphilled for bricking mansions
Fisted the white and balck walling 'gainst
Lashing the star over the gigantic barrack awaits!

Black panther curled briskly ventures to crawl
Three billion rats will sneak in
Which skyscraper would sponsor the pidepipers,
How many might they bid for!

MUSINGS OFAN UNSOLICITED EARLY MORNING




Early morning sun is squeezed into my sleeping room
Through the daringly freaky window that keeps opening
Without prior consent,
Sleeping corpses I think could be woken up
Somehow, a cry, a bang or a kick
Difference hardly it ends in,
I don’t foresee any devils of that sort.

Cotton inside the mattress oppressed for years
It has been with to rescue
No one at the doors.

Perspired all through the chilly night of full moon day
Face I must this unholy gypsy
Standing right before my window in the lonely sky;
That rusty piece of plastic like thing
At first wake sneaks
At second wake shrieks.

These well-wishers so called
Find time enough to recall the high tides
In the accounts at the month ends,
Of course their bosses pay and they gay.

Heaviest are the young mornings
After sleepless nights starting from
Living room to study room and to kitchen
Then ‘gain to study and then to balcony thrice
Then to bed and then to dining and then to bed,
At last into solitary darkness!
Back! Black! Black! Black!

A five odd pairs of seducing moonlight
Through those black holes in my roof,
May have been,
Popping in and dancing on to the snores of Tommy under the cot;
Then like cathedral candle burning to melt down a while later,
Like deceiving venalities of poignant human life,
Vanish the moony beams
By the trumpets of leisurely waking sun
With a slippery yawn
Ingratiating smile
Woke me up!
You unfaithful mongrel of the dishonest skies!

Monday, April 2, 2007

IN THE WOODS OF SHANTINIKETAN: AUTUMN 1999


Slender thy forefingers nimble their faces are dude afar
You in divinity ditched my million wishes at the altar
Thee shall ever rever thy esteemed stature
Foreseen thou mine is the cursed stupidity.

He a dozen tales about sermoned to me
Occasionally how thee were stormy,
Damn the glimpse per se
Stars shall shy away be crushed.

Aparno Dutta
The wrong pseudonym may be mistake it was of mine to Christine you so
How shall I but had the name dreamt of
Light of the darkness
Music of the woods
Strolls of evening
Call of the breaths
Petals half dead showered from the skies above
Boughs kneeling down to ease chastity;
You smiled, smiled ‘gain
Dr. Herman Heck passed by smiling like a child in the cradle
Tenth day was it friends they had been
Wonderful autumn really is
Aquarians crawling hand in hand.
Reds, yellows, blues,
Splashed all over the virgin canvass
That little dimple in the right cheek
Reminds me of you unto the last limp
Ohff!
That falling smile is mesmerizing me doll, don’t smile now please!
Vibrant shades to welcome all here forth
All have been solicited I think, at least it looks so,
We both have together are here uninvited
Somebody is to marry today
At the house behind that Bolpur station
Officially every friend and every relative has been
Informed and cordially solicited, ‘gain it seems so Sohan said,
Some come for music
Some for food
Some for a match
Some for fun
Some for a show
Some for especially those rasgullas,
Some for something unknown to none.
After the death of the first year
The neighbours, if parents are alive they may too
Come for a piece of unevenly cut cake to eat
On the occasion of maiden birthday celebrations,
If you call and if they feel so to come its all vice-versa.

Relationships are of need, or it may not be exactly
Feeling for is just a perspired traveler misguided
Cruising lethargically over the calms waters
Of evening breeze went we to the chaywalla for tea two cupsfull.
You are if you think you are
You aren’t if you think you aren’t
So, we thought we were
So we were what we wished to be of a good company to the solitude autumn!


comments by RATCHISON


Ron Atchison
Inspiration Peak

Joined: Nov. 2001
Posts: 120
Location: San Francisco
Now Reading: The People's History of the World - by Howard Zinn

Posted: April 11, 2007, 1:48 am

Hello Sanjeev!!!

Once again it's very interesting to see the world through your eyes...

I especially like the way your words tease each other and dance off the tongue in every direction.... kind of like a T.S. Eliot poem.

How many years have you been writing poetry?

Thursday, January 11, 2007

continuation to SCOUNDRELS of ganges


All the sands of Sahara,waters of Pacific,pines of Alpine,yens of Japan,scents of Arabia,guns of America,ribs of Somalia,widows of Iraq,orphans of Afghan,
On the ramps of Ankara land
Can they match the prostitutes of democracy
And
Bastards of politics and Brutus and their balderdash?
He scissors into bellies
Gopes for the rib cages
To play the tunes of sarangi
One by one asserting to announce the exact number
Counts again and again the viscous ribs
Pulls out intestines to curl around his arms and does the shakira,
Demands for recompense
Then licks the bowl full of dust and fungus.
On the front page Laxman's cartoon sings the song unto the grave for the day's burial.
Subcontinental rivers are meandering,
Thames is willing to offer its clutches but the Queen is unwilling.
Ganges is thirsty so is she sobbing,
Mississippi is ready to quench her thirst ,
But Yankees are unwilling.
In the corridors of haunted castle behind the lunatic Gothic pillars
Government and its clowns are joking,
Opposition is opposing,
Kudos to comrades! under their asses are they sleeping?

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

continuation to SCOUNDRELS of ganges


I opened the door,
Smog has taken the throne of this murky morning
Only thing visible to my dry eyes through this summer smog is a long-long thick blanket of of smog all around,
Thick smog,thin smog,dark smog,black smog,crouching smog,choking smog,howling smog,butcherig smog,
I broke into the smoggy ravines
Rubbed my dusty eye balls stood I'
Down on the pavement, at that corner,
Yes that very corner
Stood Tughlak with a pair of eyes in dispair
But commanded his men, his children thirsty,hungry,exhausted and naked
To shape that invinsible fort, treacherous and venomous,
Sultan was exulted, He blessed them all as a client of Prophet.
They thanked him and said amien!
Really! at times
Madness has sense and sense has madness
Here stands Sultan's creation
Off the veins of pampered His own children.
On the pavements of dalal streets
Little hands alongwith stray dogs are on their diarnal duty
Both in the wastebins and heaps of waste
Plummaging to remonstrate against starvation.
Obnoxious worlds borne by Brahma are being squeezed into the bottles of rot champegne bottles and tightened with spanish corks.

Monday, January 8, 2007

continuation of SCOUNDRELS of ganges


There are folks who always smile at their party's penalty
Have you ever not been party to it my friend
Every morning and every evening
Before the dawns and dusks
We had the pain at heart and mercy at will on credit basis
Searching for one last panacea for this jejune Homosapien life
Pentagon weather and Yellow stone national park swirls and twisters
Breezing and blowing aside and beside and all around
Millions and millions my friend may be billions
A whole generation of misanthropes
There are bulls,bitches,foxes,jackals,owls,hyenas,hawks and what not
'Coz of this,'coz of that
Have morphed me those scoundrels of ganges numb
What am I craving for machcha?
Is it self mortification of the bloody bohemian inside my own den of thoughts!
Alas! she is the most believable creature on this beautiful earth not to be believed
Entrepreneur of
Jerking,kindling,drowning,seducing,breaking,hovering slice of smile!
At whose capacity
At whose cost
At whose throat
I am a no novice today, neither was yesteryears;
One with a pair of drooping shoulders and heavy head
Thy bosses waiting to alight on my head and dine to their belly,
In the scroll of maps one I've for my comrade
If you wish you can have it in full
If you want you can have it in pieces
If you wish you can have it in soups
All at your will and risk.
Wait, somebody I think is at the door
...Doorbell isn't ringing for a few years
So is that knocking of course irritating;
Who could it be?
Doodhwala,chaywala,bill collectorwala,taxiwala,policewala,boss,boss ka p.a.,neighbourwaleka Wife,his daughter,no. I don't have an affair with,friend-which one?,Tommy-how can a dog?
Who knows they are no less smart,
Pizzas and burgers they also have added to their diet.
Then who could it be........?

to be continued..................

Sunday, January 7, 2007

SCOUNDRELS of ganges


WAIT! let me take a break
My neighbour is barking at my bedroom window and me
Listen, I havw never been a scuffler
Oh! yes struggler is not a lie may be
"You bloody scoundrel"
What's that he's shouting 'gain
No, this fellow is not going to let me to slumber thi morning,
Wait, what did he call me-"scoundrel"
Never,never did me try to change my name
I still own the name my father it seems gave me
Atleast, I swear by that empty Officers Choice bottle
Ya atleast half of my barrowed name still I breathe on...
What could I do if the breath has puffs and puffs of my buddy Gold Flake smoke
Tell me dears could you ever betray your buddies?
No. Isn't it. So did I.
Let me see what my samaritan streetmates snag is.

to be continued...............