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There is also a kind of song called Trivata, which consists of nonsense words extemporized by the singer.  It is a song beloved of boatment and dhooly bearers, as they take the sahib to his destination.  Every alternate line is some improvization telling of the sahib's supposed generosity, followed by a line of meaningless collection of mere words.

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nobody knows shit nobody lives anywhere hello dust! poetry's ridiculous write it feel proud strut look in the mirror believe you know this donkey stumbles blind over stones into walls ditches no words for grief or joy no words for his ruined heart Ikkyu.  Crow With No Mouth.  Copper Canyon Press.  Port Townsend, WA.  1989
When you see a crowd come home quickly, it will carry you into a burning nation, it will suppress your breath, make you a prisoner of your helplessness, open the shops of hearts.  At home anti-communism is waiting for you, a pantry full of winter supplies.  Neither to the left, nor to the right, warns grandfather, who has been through two wars and knows what he's saying. Actually, if people are dying in some town you happen to be visiting on a vacation, you can peacefully sit down to a democratic lunch and wait and see.  If necessary declare a hunger strike. Julian Kornhauser, When you see a crowd come home quickly , ed. by John McBride and Paul Vangelisti, Humps and Wings Polish poetry since '68, Los Angeles, New York, Invisible City / Red Hill Press, 1982