Fast rode the knight
With spurs, hot and reeking,
Ever waving an eager sword,
"To save my lady!"
Fast rode the knIght,
And leaped from saddle to war.
Men of steel flickered and gleamed
Like riot of silver lights,
And the gold of the knight's good banner
Still waved on a castle wall.
. . . . .
A horse,
Blowing, staggering, bloody thing,
Forgotten at foot of castle wall.
A horse
Dead at foot of castle wall.

by Stephen Crane

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or--
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!

by Shel Silverstein

The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast-
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

by Ezra Pound

There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!

by Emily Dickinson

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

by Edgar Allan Poe

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

by Robert Frost

 i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

by E. E. Cummings

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

by Pablo Neruda

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.

Some days when sorrow grows too large
To hide behind this mask I wear.
Please pretend you do not see.
And please try not to stare.
- Walter K. Henderson

Witing roses and Dieing willows,
My head is face down in the pillows.
Tears are running down my face,
My heart is running a race.
Im confused,hurt, and lost.
My parents made mistakes and I’m paying the cost.
My petals are wilting,
My heart it melting.
My tears are falling like rain,
Im filled with worry andpain.
The one thing that keeps me going?
No pain lasts forever, no matter how much is showing.

If I were Shakespeare…I’d write you a Sonnet
Allow me, alas to serenade you in a String Quartet
I’d play Shostakovich, Beethoven even Hayden
In soft vibrations of a cello, viola and violins,
Romancing…a love affair is in the air
Sweet Mistress I have Orchids and Marigolds to bare
Allow this Quartet to begin with Papa Hayden’s Melody
And fade in soft satins..we shall wait and see,
Gaze yonder at the stars and heavens above
My Sweet Mistress…yes O yes I’m in love
Listen to the music of this String Quartet
I shall be Shakespeare and write you a sonnet.

To run with The Lions one Must… be fast
The mold is made in strength when dye is “caste”
For in the hunt…there’s much is to dread
Yielding only the Quick and the Unwilling Dead!
Gazelles and Wilder Beasts are games of prey
Each must run faster to see yet another day
Hunger motivates cunning and speed
T’is only the successful who’s allow’d to feed,
Herein nature the strongest Survive
Only the sharpest minds will remain alive
The lame, weak and old are aims of the kill
One must run with Lions to have ones’ fill…

A stranger you were once.
Then, with a gentle look you took my hand.
As our lives engaged,
you lit my life and I held both your hands.
Now that decades have passed,
ours souls have indeed become one.
How fortunate we are
that we have found the love so true
that everyone dreams about.

The burdening anger we carry among us.
Enmity, a wall that’s growing by day,
Bounds come up, we are isolated now
With big shadows breaking us the more,
I wonder, why carry the heavy hearts?
Why do we seek war and never peace?
More misery not joy and happiness,
Death other than living as one man
Evil has eaten us up we are its accomplices
Our future I cannot tell for we are blinded
Blinded by this rage, a disease we have got
This that has destroyed us to be no more
With no sweet music to play in our ears,
But roars of red hot fires that await us
We are to blame for our own destruction.

Stranded in a corner cold, dark and pale.
Deprived of life, feeling old and stale.
Moonlight shining thru with its waning crest,
lies the ominous Bass Line Of Death.
Cold to the ear.
Dark and deep vibrations.
Pale as the strangest fear.
Old and stale without saturation.
The Bass Line Of Death is felt for centuries.
Harvestor of souls drifting thru time.
Humbly leaving behind only memories.
Go to sleep as The Bass Line Of Death sings his rhyme.
Cold is the years.
Dark and deep without limitations.
Pale as light held dear.
Old and stale with eternal damnation.
The Bass Line Of Death isn't felt at all.
The taker of life is embraced with rejoicement.
Never the life of this one will fall.
Fast asleep as life becomes yer deaths replacement.
Sing...Death...

An open drain- large, unrestrained;
Reeking of clamor unexpressed
I hear a woman’s cry
There is devastation and despair.

It is a time of birth
And an emerging murmur of an end

A new-born floats down the gutter
The residue of society’s sins
More blood, more death.
Does poverty justify it all?

Do you know who I want to be like?
It’s not Roosevelt, Reagan or Ike.
It’s my father.

Who taught me to drive and skate?
Who taught me to care and not hate?
It’s my father.

The man I’ll respect till I die,
Who taught me always to try,
It’s my father.

He was never too busy for me;
He’s my ideal man, totally.
My father!

Dad, I'm blessed to be your son
I knew it from the start.
You're a first-class father;
You're loving, kind, and smart.

You show me how to be a man
You help me, guide me, along the way.
You're strong, and yet you're gentle, too.
I hope I'm just like you, someday!

My dad is my role model for
Most everything I do.
I look to him to see what's right
He always gets me through.
(Repeat last two lines)

I hope my father knows how much
I love him and I care.
He is my hero and my rock,
My dad is always there.
(Repeat last two lines)

My father is essential to
My life and happiness.
My feelings are so strong for him,
My heart cannot express.
(Repeat last two lines)

There's so much more about my dad
That I would like to say,
But now I'll end by saying to you Dad,
Happy Father's Day.
(Repeat last two lines)

If everyone had a father
Who was more like you,
There'd be more laughing, joy and singing;
Fewer people would be blue.

There'd be much more understanding;
Crime and hate could not prevail.
We'd all be so contented,
We wouldn't need a jail.

If everyone had a father
Who was more like you,
The whole world would be blessed,
Just as I am blessed with you.

It’s not so common anymore
to have a dad who’s really there,
who is the provider for his family,
who comes home every night,
whose predictability
creates a sense of stability and security
in his household.
Your routine may not seem valuable to you,
but it’s worth a lot to me.
I’m thankful that I can depend on you
to always be you--
a real father,
responsible, trustworthy,
and a great role model.
I’ve learned a lot of good things
from watching you.
Thanks, Dad.

My daddy is the greatest;
The best dad there ever was.
He always brings me lots of joy;
He’s my very own Santa Claus.

My daddy can do anything;
He’s smart as smart can be.
I love to walk and hold his hand
To show he belongs to me.

I love my daddy!

Dad, you’re like the sun to me,
a sure thing, always there,
beaming light and warmth on my life.
Whatever is good in me today,
I owe to your wisdom, your patience,
your strength, your love.
You taught me by example,
as a role model,
how to be my own person,
how to believe in myself,
instructing me without controlling me.
Even when we disagreed,
you held us together,
so our bond was never broken.
I understand what you did for me,
and I am so grateful that I have you
as my solid foundation, my rock.
I respect you, I admire you, I love you,
my guiding light, my father.

I am glad you’re my father;
You’re really the best;
As a dad, you’re a fine one;
I’m so very blessed.

You’re smart, and you’re strong,
Just a perfect dad blend;
You’re my father, my counselor
And a really good friend.

I’m so glad that you’re my dad;
You’re one in a million, Pop!
When it comes to first-class fathers,
You’re the absolute cream of the crop.

You love me no matter what,
Whether I’m a goodie or baddie;
I really love you, Pa;
You’re a fine and fantabulous daddy!

I love you because you're my father,
But you're really so much more;
You're a guide and a companion;
You and I have great rapport.

You pay attention to me;
You listen to what I say.
You pass on words of wisdom,
Helping me along the way.

Whenever I'm in trouble,
You always have a plan.
You are the perfect father,
And I'm your biggest fan!

You're a dad, and you're doing great;
At fatherly duties you star;
You deserve to celebrate
The terrific father you are.

You're doing a wonderful job,
And so we'd like to convey
Our respect and admiration;
Happy Father's Day!

I love you, Dad, and want you to know,
I feel your love wherever I go.
Whenever I've problems, you're there to assist,
The ways you have helped me would make quite a list.

Your wisdom and knowledge have shown me the way,
And I'm thankful for you as I live day by day.
I don't tell you enough how important you are,
In my universe you're a bright shining star.

You are my hero, Dad
You're my secure foundation.
When I think of you, I'm filled with love
And fond appreciation.

You make me feel protected;
I'm sheltered by your care.
You're always my true friend; and Dad,
When I need you, you're always there.

You have a place of honor
Deep within my heart.
You've been my superhero, Dad,
Right from the very start.

You may have thought I didn't see,
Or that I hadn't heard,
Life lessons that you taught to me,
But I got every word.

Perhaps you thought I missed it all,
And that we'd grow apart,
But Dad, I picked up everything,
It's written on my heart.

Without you, Dad, I wouldn't be
The (woman)(man) I am today;
You built a strong foundation
No one can take away.

I've grown up with your values,
And I'm very glad I did;
So here's to you, dear father,
From your forever grateful kid.

I feel safe when you are with me;
You show me fun things to do;
You make my life much better;
The best father I know is you.

I’m happy you’re my Dad
And so I want to say
I love you, Dad, and wish you
A Happy Father’s Day!

There is a miracle called Friendship
that dwells within the heart
and you don't know how it happens
or when it even starts.

But the happiness it brings you
always gives a special lift
and you realize that Friendship
is God's most precious gift.

Standing by,
All the way.
Here to help you through your day.

Holding you up,
When you are weak,
Helping you find what it is you seek.

Catching your tears,
When you cry.
Pulling you through when the tide is high.

Just being there,
Through thick and thin,
All just to say, you are my friend.

I believe in angels,
The kind that heaven sends,
I am surrounded by angels,
But I call them friends.

A friend is someone we turn to
when our spirits need a lift.
A friend is someone we treasure
for our friendship is a gift.
A friend is someone who fills our lives
with beauty, joy, and grace.
And makes the whole world we live in
a better and happier place.

I love the way you look at me,
Your eyes so bright and blue.
I love the way you kiss me,
Your lips so soft and smooth.

I love the way you make me so happy,
And the ways you show you care.
I love the way you say, "I Love You,"
And the way you're always there.

I love the way you touch me,
Always sending chills down my spine.
I love that you are with me,
And glad that you are mine.

My love, I have tried with all my being
to grasp a form comparable to thine own,
but nothing seems worthy;

I know now why Shakespeare could not
compare his love to a summer’s day.
It would be a crime to denounce the beauty
of such a creature as thee,
to simply cast away the precision
God had placed in forging you.

Each facet of your being
whether it physical or spiritual
is an ensnarement
from which there is no release.
But I do not wish release.
I wish to stay entrapped forever.
With you for all eternity.
Our hearts, always as one.

A special world for you and me
A special bond one cannot see
It wraps us up in its cocoon
And holds us fiercely in its womb.

Its fingers spread like fine spun gold
Gently nestling us to the fold
Like silken thread it holds us fast
Bonds like this are meant to last.

And though at times a thread may break
A new one forms in its wake
To bind us closer and keep us strong
In a special world, where we belong.

NO,
Mother India is not the Golden Age
Of the remote past.
Mother India is the wisdom-light
Of Eternity's Here and Now.

INDIA'S SECRET WEAPONS:
The transcendental Vision-Light
Of the Vedic seers,
The universal Consciousness-Delight
From the Vedic code.

I dearly love my India
And its age-old silence-peace.
I dearly love my India
And its child-heart's beauty increase.

Mother, I bow to thee!
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
Bright with thy orchard gleams,
Cool with thy winds of delight,
Dark fields waving, Mother of might,
Mother free.

Glory of moonlight dreams
Over thy branches and lordly streams,
Clad in thy blossoming trees,
Mother, giver of ease,
Laughing low and sweet!
Mother, I kiss thy feet,
Speaker sweet and low!
Mother, to thee I bow.

Who hath said thou art weak in thy lands,
When the swords flash out in twice seventy million hands
And seventy millions voices roar
Thy dreadful name from shore to shore?
With many strengths who art mighty and stored,
To thee I call, Mother and Lord!
Thou who savest, arise and save!
To her I cry who ever her foemen drave
Back from plain and sea
And shook herself free.

Thou art wisdom, thou art law,
Thou our heart, our soul, our breath,
Thou the love divine, the awe
In our hearts that conquers death.
Thine the strength that nerves the arm,
Thine the beauty, thine the charm.
Every image made divine
In our temples is but thine.

Thou art Durga, Lady and Queen,
With her hands that strike and her swords of sheen,
Thou art Lakshmi lotus-throned,
Pure and perfect without peer,
Mother, lend thine ear.
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
Bright with thy orchard gleams,
Dark of hue, O candid-fair


In thy soul, with jewelled hair
And thy glorious smile divine,
Loveliest of all earthly lands,
Showering wealth from well-stored hands!
Mother, mother mine!
Mother sweet, I bow to thee,
Mother great and free.

India, my India, where first human eyes awoke to heavenly light!

All Asia's holy place of pilgrimage, great Motherland of might!

World-mother, first giver to humankind of philosophy and sacred lore,

Knowledge thou gav'st to man, God-love, works, art, religion's opened door.

O even with all that grandeur dwarfed or turned to bitter loss and maim,

How shall we mourn who are thy children and can vaunt thy mighty name?

Before us still there floats the ideal of those splendid days of gold;

A new world in our vision wakes, Love's India we shall rise to mould.

India, my India, who dare call thee a thing for pity's grace today?

Mother of wisdom, worship, works, nurse of the spirit's inward ray!

India is not just a people.
India is the celestial music,
And inside that music
Anybody from any corner of the globe
Can find the real significance of life.

A receptionist is a person (please note!),
Usually female, whose job is to receive.
Like her male cousin, the wide receiver,
She receives frequent passes from her own team
And abusive hits from visitors playing the field.
At times she is asked to do an end run
Around some office rival,
Or to execute a play
That is clearly out of bounds.
Should she complain,
She might find herself
Standing on the unemployment lines
Or sitting on the beach.
At times she is sorely tempted
To call a strike.
(But that's another sport!)

Daddy, I love you
For all that you do.
I'll kiss you and hug you
'Cause you love me, too.

You feed me and need me
To teach you to play,
So smile 'cause I love you
On this Father's Day.

A father and a dad are not the same:
One can be a dad and not a father,
Or one can be a father and not bother
To earn through love the more endearing name.
Some find fatherhood a bit too tame,
Leaving all the details to the mother,
Or dumping the sweet burden on another
Man with just a passing twinge of shame.
You have been our dad so many years
That you've become the landscape that is home,
The mountain that we look to from afar.
No matter where we go we're not alone,
For you remain within to still our fears
And be the word that tells us who we are.

Farewell, my friend and confidante!
As you go, so must I
Return upon the well-worn path
Each soul must travel by.
Wend where you will, my wanderer,
Even as you stay
Long-treasured in my lonely heart,
Loved well, though far away.

Charity is like an unsung anthem
Harmonizing everything we see.
A gift can be a work of silent witness,
Remembrance, reverence, unsought forgiveness,
Intention, labor, time, philanthropy.
The worth is measured only by redemption,
Yielding nothing but the grace to be.

Happy birthday, dearest one,
Sweet child of my heart!
We've become one family,
Of which you are a part.

And so I sing out equally
To all of those who are
Mine by blood or fortune blessed,
No more, no less my star!

We are one in love and joy,
In fondness and in worth,
And so as one we celebrate
This day, your day of birth!

Birthdays are an annual excuse,
A way of saying things we ought to say.
Relatively few can sing their love
Unless they do it on some special day.
Hearts are shy, and words of little use.

But now I want to tell you that I love you,
Open up my heart and say the things
Siblings seldom say to one another
'Cause of the embarrassment it brings.
However long we live, I'll be with you.

One

Your presence is requested at
A moment of transcendence.
The mystery of turning one
Requires your attendance.

You will accomplish something more
Than favor, fun, or duty
By witnessing the passage of
A moment of great beauty.

Two

Your presence is requested at
A moment of transcendence.
The mystery of turning two
Requires your attendance.

You will witness something more
Than monsters going wild:
The turning of a sweet young soul
From infant into child.

Fifty

Your presence is requested at
A moment of transcendence.
The mystery of fifty years
Requires your attendance.

We will accomplish something more
Than managing to dine:
We'll mark the turning of a soul
From juice to good red wine.

Eighty

Your presence is requested at
A moment of transcendence.
The mystery of eighty years
Requires your attendance.

We will manage something more
Than food and cake and brew:
We'll mark the turning of a soul
Towards islands rich and new.

Note: Please feel free to fit this invitation to other ages.

Aileen has reached the ripe old age of eighty!
In her there's been much music, song, and dance.
Love like wind on sand designed her life,
Early on a mother and a wife.
Even in late years she's had romance,
Nor has she followed else but love and beauty.

Is there ought you need that my hands withhold,
Rich gifts of raiment or grain or gold?
Lo ! I have flung to the East and the West
Priceless treasures torn from my breast,
And yielded the sons of my stricken womb
To the drum-beats of the duty, the sabers of doom.
Gathered like pearls in their alien graves
Silent they sleep by the Persian waves,
Scattered like shells on Egyptian sands,
They lie with pale brows and brave, broken hands,
they are strewn like blossoms mown down by chance
On the blood-brown meadows of Flanders and France.
Can ye measure the grief of the tears I weep
Or compass the woe of the watch I keep?
Or the pride that thrills thro' my heart's despair
And the hope that comforts the anguish of prayer?
And the far sad glorious vision I see
Of the torn red banners of victory?
when the terror and the tumult of hate shall cease
And life be refashioned on anvils of peace,
And your love shall offer memorial thanks
To the comrades who fought on the dauntless ranks,
And you honour the deeds of the dauntless ones,
Remember the blood of my martyred sons!

"Where the mind is without fear
and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been
broken up into fragments by
narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from
the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches
its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason
has not lost its way into the dreary
desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is lead forward by thee
into ever-widening thought and action-
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father,
let my country awake."

What is War

War is always
War is near
War is here
War is down the road
War is in the road
War is life
War is death
War is what drives some to
War is what drives some away
War is in the air
War is in my pear
War is fun to some
War is sorrow for others
War is always
War is all around us
War is the world in which we live in
I wonder does war last end in heaven

WAR MEANS death……,
WAR MEANS destruction……,
WAR MEANS fire……,
WAR MEANS bombing…..,
WAR MEANS sorrow…..
WAR MEANS turmoil…..,
WAR MEANS tears……,
WAR MEANS guns…..,
WAR MEANS blood…...,
WAR MEANS confusion….,
WAR MEANS explosions…..,
WAR MEANS mutilation……,
WAR MEANS sickness……,
WAR MEANS killing…..,
WAR MEANS occupation…..,
WAR MEANS loss……,
And lots more……,

But after one side…..,
Or the other side…..,
Has finally had enough….,
And lays down their arms
To surrender and give up…..,

WAR MEANS PEACE….! ! !

War is war with Nature’s peace:
Always has been – always will.
War is Man in Evil’s grease:
Never doubt his chronic ill.

War is begging a question: ‘Why? ’
War extracts a deafening cry:

‘Oh human nature in extremis –
Your evil sports its raging p*nis
To rape us with your lowest moment.

War aggressive; war perverse;
War oppressive; war of curse;
Honed with tension; not to mention
Pain to bear and stain to wear.
I do so love War’s ugly rhyme –
Now out of time.'

War created aberrant beauty;
Hypnotic awe of glorious Bomb:

Oh billowed bloom of mushroom head -
A tombstone groomed for thousands dead.

War in colour so demeaned:

Blood red - flash white -
Spattered hues of victims’ plight.

War now screams a victory!
'Hail the winners! Fail the losers! '
War is pitiful: there are no winners, sinners!
If winners though we must define,
It's only the side that suffered less,
No less - powerless, all!

‘War’ - sounds almost onomatopoeic:
War; gore; implore; score (to settle) : floor -
On which you lie when dying; crying; spying; putrefying:
Petrifying…

War breeds childhood fantasies:

Toy soldiers for young boys,
Computers now with games,
Destroy with click of mouse:
‘I shoot you down in flames! ’

War is educational:

Jane’s Infantry Weapons: hip-hip-hooray!
For now I have a great idea -
A Christmas present with a sneer!

War is shame with Man to blame:

Shame on you! Shame on Man!
Damn your bomb and battle plan!
Ban all war!
But no - oh no!
For if you do, then Man must go.

Alone! ' I cried again.
'Alone I am with me!
Lonely in a world of mist
Alone, I reach to touch your wrist
And see if I am thee.’

To be alone beside a soul
Afloat, adrift; an empty ghoul
Alone in woe; the yearning flesh
To fill a thin, contorted mesh
Diffuse atop an icy floor, alone.

So much alone in fact, I lack
The tonal vibrancy of life:

I am a song without a tune
alone;
A greying sky in June
alone;

The blueness of a sullen moon
– waning in a starless night–
alone;

Coasting down a weedy pass
alone;
The only image in the glass
alone;

To meet a certain heavy fate
– to turn and shut the knurly gate–

…alone.

Alone to cry
Alone to laugh
Alone to smile
Alone to frown
Alone to live
Alone to die
Alone to wander
Alone to discover
Alone to learn
Alone to live
Alone in pain
Alone in hurt
Alone in joy
Alone in the morning
Alone in the night
Alone in the afternoon
Alone in this life
Alone in this world
Alone in boredom
Alone in knowledge
Alone in this state
Alone with people
Alone at work
Alone right now
Alone when I was born
And alone when I will die
Alone walking through life
Without any pride
How can you be satisfied
Living your life like you do
When you know there is some one out there
Who could really use a friend like you
No one will know how I live
No one will know who I am
No one will ever get to know me
Because I am destined to spend my life alone
I am always alone.
It’s no fun to be alone
To do everything on your own
To live with no recognition
To share my pride with no one
Wanting to have someone
To live my life with
But for now
I will continue alone
And all alone

So alone in my bed
Alone listening to nightly whispers
Alone in my thoughts
Alone standing in court
Alone I stand and fight
Alone I pray for rainbow lights

Alone in the morning I awake
Alone I celebrate my joys
Alone I cry out my sadness
Alone I voice out my fears
Alone in strenght

Alone in wealth
Alone in good health
Alone I try to understand
Alone I seek knowledge
Alone I share what is mine
Alone I try not to be alone
Alone when my time has come, I pass away

MY PERFECT SISTER
My perfect sister holds me tight
My perfect sister kisses me goodnight
My perfect sister knows when I’m mad
My perfect sister helps me when I’m sad
My perfect sister is so smart
My perfect sister has my heart
My perfect sister is good and nice
My perfect sister holds me at night
My perfect sister loves me lots
My perfect sister ties the knot
My perfect sister is here to stay
My perfect sister I have until this very day
My perfect sister I wish you well
My perfect sister yes I can tell
My perfect sister asked if I lied
My perfect sister knows if I’ve cried
My perfect sister has moved away
->My perfect sister is in my heart to and will always stay<-

My sister my sister,
Is not the best.
My sister my sister,
Oh give it a rest.

My sister my sister,
Stop with the drama.
My sister my sister,
Dumb as a llama.

My sister my sister,
I'm not supposed to see.
My sister my sister,
Dumb as can be.

My sister please dont cry
My sister dry your eyes
My sister don't end your life
My sister your not his wife
My sister he's cold as a snake
My sister he's just a fake
My sister everything will be better when you wake
My sister Ive seen the pills you take
My sister he's full of lies
My sister don't even try
My sister your the one everyone likes
My sister don't start a fight
My sister it ends tonight
My sister I need you, don't end your life

My sister holds me tight
My sister kisses me goodnight
My sister knows when I’m mad
My sister helps me when I’m sad
My sister is so smart
My sister has my heart
My sister loves me lots
My sister ties the knots
My sister is here to stay
My sister I have until this very day
My sister I wish you well
My sister yes I can tell
My sister asked if I lied
My sister knows if I’ve cried
My sister has moved away
My sister is in my heart to and will always stay

My sister holds me tight
My sister kisses me goodnight
My sister knows when I’m mad
My sister helps me when I’m sad
My sister is so smart
My sister has my heart
My sister loves me lots
My sister ties the knots
My sister is here to stay
My sister I have until this very day
My sister I wish you well
My sister yes I can tell
My sister asked if I lied
My sister knows if I’ve cried
My sister has moved away
My sister is in my heart to and will always stay

Sister, sister
save my soul
sister, sister
don't leave me alone.

Sister, sister
he is here
sister, sister
he grows near.

Sister, sister
hold me tight
sister, sister
put up a fight.

Sister, sister
don't let go
sister, sister
stay with me.

Sister, sister
don't please him
sister, sister
it's not worth it.

Sister, sister
tell him no
sister sister
please don't go.

Sister, sister
please come back
sister, sister
take off that sack.

Sister, sister
don't give in
sister, sister
have faith in Him.

Sister, sister
wipe your tears
sister, sister
fight your fears.

Sister, sister
please stay strong
sister, sister
you know this is wrong.

Sister, sister
please forgive me
sister, sister
don't try to save me.

Sister, sister
you are free
sister, sister
get off your knees.

sister, sister
please, don't forget me.

Im sorry i hurt you
Im sorry it had to end like this
Im sorry i cant be with you
Im sorry i'm not perfect
Im sorry i cant handle it
Im sorry i broke my promises
Im sorry i cant fix this!
This is over for good, no going back
even though i said i would i cant
Im sorry about breaking your heart
But this is it! !

Ive loved you for a long time,
but that time is over now
iver used and hurt alot of people
because i couldnt get over you.
Ive done alot of growing up and i can
see that its better if we are only friends
i didnt want to believe it before
but i can see it now so its safe
to say im ready to let you go.
Ive cried, ive lied, ive been hurt but i survived
These are the words i couldnt say but
its okay because i can now
because you've never really been mine
you've only ever been at the tip of my fingers.
But no matter what you'll always be in my heart, because
ill never be able to forget what we use to have
but all we have now is memories and friendship.

You make everything okay in my world even when its not
everytime i hug you your always so warm it feel so stupidly perfect
and when i put my head on your chest and silently listen to your heartbeat
i can feel the light touch of your finger tips that feels like angles
danceing on my back and in that split second the world disappears and its
just you and me and even if i do lose myself so stupidly in the love i have for you
i feel so safe and as i slowly drift off to sleep i think only if this could be
and as i wake in the morning thinking how perfect it is to have your arms around me
i no that it will never be

A desire to fly, but without wings,
Expect a voice, but just a cry to sing,
I came to a place, where I had a din to hear,
Left my mother, though with tears.

No language to speak, just new faces to see,
New hands to lift, new hands to pamper just for me,
An angel I saw, she asked my name,
Few teeth in mouth, what a shame.

She took me in her laps, to know my name,
As she had to see the child that she had to tame,
Gave me a seat, and a smile with a sweet,
Took a promise, 'tommorow to meet.'

Came home with joy with so much to tell,
That I had a summer not a hail,
To my mother I told with all the words I knew,
Promised not to fear, when she would leave.

When he asked will you marry me
I could only laugh at him

When I asked you sure want to spend your whole life with me
He said not just this one but every life

And when I said life is long and may turn weary some day
He said never mind, will take a break and re-marry after 40 years

When I asked how do you know I am the person
He said because I know who am I as a person

When people say marriages are made in heavens
We say our heavens are dispersed here around
On this earth, where our marriage was made
In our sorrows, in our laughters, in our love and our faith
In all the answers said and unsaid
In all the questions asked and unasked
In all the days and all the nights
In all the feelings interwoven together
To keep us alive till we die

And after death, as I said once
Our memories will enjoin us to our graves
And hopefully, we may crave
To reunite in another heaven of ours some day.....

Maybe...if you were taller
Maybe...if I were shorter
Maybe...if the years, statuses, and complications
dissapeared,
faded like smoke
until nothing was left
but our souls
welding together
in the purity and simplicity
that is
love.
Maybe...
If heearts were filled only of love
and tears were only of joy
and honesty was always right
and all days
ended in
perfect sunsets...
...maybe.

Two in the Afternoon
The minister's gray spitz
at the sacristy door.
Sparrows' wings scuffle in the dirt
in front of his sightless eyes.
Like memories to him:
the twine tying the brace of pheasants
that appeared as a crack in the cemetery wall;
the shaking of the gravestones
when the crippled caterpillar wriggles;
the discoloration of the bricks
in the scream of the dying mole.
Calmly he acknowledges
the report from the woods
that the gates of paradise are to be thrown open.
    (Text of the poem in the original German)

And
Fog fog fog,
hair
in my ears, a
noncommittal
friendliness
and
and
and Raissa's sweet laugh.
Experience tells
what belongs with what,
what belongs with and,
only with and,
no rationale.
It will last
so long as the and doesn't
slip my mind like the other words.
It's enough, thanks, it's plenty.
    (Text of the poem in the original German)

A tree divided. It grew like that—
Its slender trunk suddenly forking,
Lifting up from the crux in two Shiva arms—
As if it had come to a crossroads and split
The way twins unpeel from one another
In the womb. Two from one, it reached up
And flourished this way—it topped thirty feet
As its thick dark glossy leaves, half-folded like
Paper boats, kept the nubs of coming pears
Hidden then dangling. Avocado, avocado.
I held you in my hand as a big wrinkled pit,
Propped you (as I'd been taught once by a lover
Who was trouble) with four toothpicks over a glass
Filled with water—till the tiny white filament inside
Your worried seed slowly let itself down into the
Clear transparency, while sprouting above into a
Green feasible stem. I transplanted those floating roots,
The top-heavy shoot after weeks—then waited till it
Reached out at last—growing fast in both directions,
Down into dirt, up into the sky over the backyard. When
It twinned, climbing upward, I stopped my husband,
Standing hard by with shears, from pruning it back
Into one: The only way it would survive he said. But
It doubled skyward into the single tree at the top—
A hermaphrodite—as it had to be to make fruit. So
Many alligator pears, summer after L.A. summer! We
Filled baskets with the abundance of the you
And you: the fruit of two separate flowerings
From one quick hesitation. Till days after David died,
When clumsy workmen, digging a trench, severed your
Taproot. I saw the white exposed arteries they'd chopped clean
With their spades. I stood beside you weeping, trying to hold
Your heart together with my hands at the fork where you'd
Leaned apart, then towered. You were my love, conflict tree,—
Tough-skinned, the rich light-green flesh beneath. Avocado,
They killed you. When we sold the house, you were a cut stump.

The still small voice cleaves
like thin smoke from a bed
deep in arcadia; there is
an arrow true and straight
to her, not to be spoken
as though the jaws gobbling
up my life have had their
fill at last; as though
my own fast is broken
upon this note, my mother's
song a falling scale of bone.
Sinking so far into herself
she's no one, yet I hear it borne
upon the wind, ancient voices
of the child she was, marking
time to save herself from moaning.
She chews grapes, spits them.
They have landed on my skin
and turn it green, it is
green fire speaking upon me
a burn too fierce to see.
That was the bed, the island;
hands stray like crabs
to find the shoreline; there is
an expedition in this visit
though the nurse won't catch it.
I hold the receiver tight
use a lover's words to
fold her loose and too-wide
wish her back unto its own,
take out my hard-won stone
and sharpen up love's knife;
late now for feeble gestures
send my heart hot down the line
for chewing on, knowing it lands
but no geography, nothing of that
boundless offering left to see.
Too far out she is for any
contemplation; there are laws
it seems, beyond cognition, too
vast and tremulous not to obey her
nor submit this moment's grace to
                             things undone.

I ne'er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale.
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.

And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start --
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.

Are flowers the winter's choice?
Is love's bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love's appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more

The ostrich roams the great Sahara.
Its mouth is wide, its neck is narra.
It has such long and lofty legs,
I'm glad it sits to lay its eggs.

Tell me, O Octopus, I begs
Is those things arms, or is they legs?
I marvel at thee, Octopus;
If I were thou, I'd call me Us.

They tell me that euphoria is the feeling of feeling wonderful,
well, today I feel euphorian,
Today I have the agility of a Greek god and the appetitite of a
Victorian.
Yes, today I may even go forth without my galoshes,
Today I am a swashbuckler, would anybody like me to buckle
any swashes?
This is my euphorian day,
I will ring welkins and before anybody answers I will run away.
I will tame me a caribou
And bedeck it with marabou.
I will pen me my memoirs.
Ah youth, youth! What euphorian days them was!
I wasn't much of a hand for the boudoirs,
I was generally to be found where the food was.
Does anybody want any flotsam?
I've gotsam.
Does anybody want any jetsam?
I can getsam.
I can play chopsticks on the Wurlitzer,
I can speak Portuguese like a Berlitzer.
I can don or doff my shoes without tying or untying the laces because
I am wearing moccasins,
And I practically know the difference between serums and antitoccasins.
Kind people, don't think me purse-proud, don't set me down as
vainglorious,
I'm just a little euphorious.

  How wise I am to have instructed the butler
to instruct the first footman to instruct the second
footman to instruct the doorman to order my carriage;
I am about to volunteer a definition of marriage.
Just as I know that there are two Hagens, Walter and Copen,
I know that marriage is a legal and religious alliance entered
into by a man who can't sleep with the window shut and a
woman who can't sleep with the window open.
Moreover, just as I am unsure of the difference between
flora and fauna and flotsam and jetsam,
I am quite sure that marriage is the alliance of two people
one of whom never remembers birthdays and the other
never forgetsam,
And he refuses to believe there is a leak in the water pipe or
the gas pipe and she is convinced she is about to asphyxiate
or drown,
And she says Quick get up and get my hairbrushes off the
windowsill, it's raining in, and he replies Oh they're all right,

it's only raining straight down.
That is why marriage is so much more interesting than divorce,
Because it's the only known example of the happy meeting of
the immovable object and the irresistible force.
So I hope husbands and wives will continue to debate and
combat over everything debatable and combatable,
Because I believe a little incompatibility is the spice of life,
particularly if he has income and she is pattable.

A child need not be very clever
To learn that "Later, dear" means "Never."

FIRST

Be it a girl, or one of the boys,
It is scarlet all over its avoirdupois,
It is red, it is boiled; could the obstetrician
Have possibly been a lobstertrician?
His degrees and credentials were hunky-dory,
But how's for an infantile inventory?
Here's the prodigy, here's the miracle!
Whether its head is oval or spherical,
You rejoice to find it has only one,
Having dreaded a two-headed daughter or son;
Here's the phenomenon all complete,
It's got two hands, it's got two feet,
Only natural, but pleasing, because
For months you have dreamed of flippers or claws.
Furthermore, it is fully equipped:
Fingers and toes with nails are tipped;
It's even got eyes, and a mouth clear cut;
When the mouth comes open the eyes go shut,
When the eyes go shut, the breath is loosed
And the presence of lungs can be deduced.
Let the rockets flash and the cannon thunder,
This child is a marvel, a matchless wonder.
A staggering child, a child astounding,
Dazzling, diaperless, dumbfounding,
Stupendous, miraculous, unsurpassed,
A child to stagger and flabbergast,
Bright as a button, sharp as a thorn,
And the only perfect one ever born.


SECOND

Arrived this evening at half-past nine.
Everybody is doing fine.
Is it a boy, or quite the reverse?
You can call in the morning and ask the nurse.

  I find it very difficult to enthuse
Over the current news.
Just when you think that at least the outlook is so black that it can grow no blacker, it worsens,
And that is why I do not like the news, because there has never been an era when so many things were going so right for so many of the wrong persons.

Go hang yourself, you old M.D.!
You shall not sneer at me.
Pick up your hat and stethoscope,
Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;
I contemplate a joy exquisite
I'm not paying you for your visit.
I did not call you to be told
My malady is a common cold.

By pounding brow and swollen lip;
By fever's hot and scaly grip;
By those two red redundant eyes
That weep like woeful April skies;
By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff;
By handkerchief after handkerchief;
This cold you wave away as naught
Is the damnedest cold man ever caught!

Give ear, you scientific fossil!
Here is the genuine Cold Colossal;
The Cold of which researchers dream,
The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme.
This honored system humbly holds
The Super-cold to end all colds;
The Cold Crusading for Democracy;
The Führer of the Streptococcracy.

Bacilli swarm within my portals
Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals,
But bred by scientists wise and hoary
In some Olympic laboratory;
Bacteria as large as mice,
With feet of fire and heads of ice
Who never interrupt for slumber
Their stamping elephantine rumba.

A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth!
Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth;
Don Juan was a budding gallant,
And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent;
The Arctic winter is fairly coolish,
And your diagnosis is fairly foolish.
Oh what a derision history holds
For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds!

Celery, raw
Develops the jaw,
But celery, stewed,
Is more quietly chewed.

  A girl whose cheeks are covered with paint
Has an advantage with me over one whose ain't.

  This is a song to celebrate banks,
Because they are full of money and you go into them and all
you hear is clinks and clanks,
Or maybe a sound like the wind in the trees on the hills,
Which is the rustling of the thousand dollar bills.
Most bankers dwell in marble halls,
Which they get to dwell in because they encourage deposits
and discourage withdrawals,
And particularly because they all observe one rule which woe
betides the banker who fails to heed it,
Which is you must never lend any money to anybody unless
they don't need it.
I know you, you cautious conservative banks!
If people are worried about their rent it is your duty to deny
them the loan of one nickel, yes, even one copper engraving
of the martyred son of the late Nancy Hanks;
Yes, if they request fifty dollars to pay for a baby you must
look at them like Tarzan looking at an uppity ape in the
jungle,
And tell them what do they think a bank is, anyhow, they had
better go get the money from their wife's aunt or ungle.
But suppose people come in and they have a million and they
want another million to pile on top of it,
Why, you brim with the milk of human kindness and you
urge them to accept every drop of it,
And you lend them the million so then they have two million
and this gives them the idea that they would be better off
with four,
So they already have two million as security so you have no
hesitation in lending them two more,
And all the vice-presidents nod their heads in rhythm,
And the only question asked is do the borrowers want the
money sent or do they want to take it withm.
Because I think they deserve our appreciation and thanks,
the jackasses who go around saying that health and happi-
ness are everything and money isn't essential,
Because as soon as they have to borrow some unimportant
money to maintain their health and happiness they starve
to death so they can't go around any more sneering at good
old money, which is nothing short of providential.

  Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
April soft in flowered languor,
April cold with sudden anger,
Ever changing, ever true --
I love April, I love you.

  Isabel met an enormous bear,
Isabel, Isabel, didn't care;
The bear was hungry, the bear was ravenous,
The bear's big mouth was cruel and cavernous.
The bear said, Isabel, glad to meet you,
How do, Isabel, now I'll eat you!
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry.
Isabel didn't scream or scurry.
She washed her hands and she straightened her hair up,
Then Isabel quietly ate the bear up.
Once in a night as black as pitch
Isabel met a wicked old witch.
the witch's face was cross and wrinkled,
The witch's gums with teeth were sprinkled.
Ho, ho, Isabel! the old witch crowed,
I'll turn you into an ugly toad!
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry,
Isabel didn't scream or scurry,
She showed no rage and she showed no rancor,
But she turned the witch into milk and drank her.
Isabel met a hideous giant,
Isabel continued self reliant.
The giant was hairy, the giant was horrid,
He had one eye in the middle of his forhead.
Good morning, Isabel, the giant said,
I'll grind your bones to make my bread.
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry,
Isabel didn't scream or scurry.
She nibled the zwieback that she always fed off,
And when it was gone, she cut the giant's head off.
Isabel met a troublesome doctor,
He punched and he poked till he really shocked her.
The doctor's talk was of coughs and chills
And the doctor's satchel bulged with pills.
The doctor said unto Isabel,
Swallow this, it will make you well.
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry,
Isabel didn't scream or scurry.
She took those pills from the pill concocter,
And Isabel calmly cured the doctor.

To keep your marriage brimming
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you’re wrong, admit it;
Whenever you’re right, shut up.

The hands of the clock were reaching high
In an old midtown hotel;
I name no name, but its sordid fame
Is table talk in hell.
I name no name, but hell's own flame
Illumes the lobby garish,
A gilded snare just off Times Square
For the maidens of the parish.

The revolving door swept the grimy floor
Like a crinoline grotesque,
And a lowly bum from an ancient slum
Crept furtively past the desk.
His footsteps sift into the lift
As a knife in the sheath is slipped,
Stealthy and swift into the lift
As a vampire into a crypt.

Old Maxie, the elevator boy,
Was reading an ode by Shelley,
But he dropped the ode as it were a toad
When the gun jammed into his belly.
There came a whisper as soft as mud
In the bed of an old canal:
"Take me up to the suite of Pinball Pete,
The rat who betrayed my gal."

The lift doth rise with groans and sighs
Like a duchess for the waltz,
Then in middle shaft, like a duchess daft,
It changes its mind and halts.
The bum bites lip as the landlocked ship
Doth neither fall nor rise,
But Maxie the elevator boy
Regards him with burning eyes.
"First, to explore the thirteenth floor,"
Says Maxie, "would be wise."

Quoth the bum, "There is moss on your double cross,
I have been this way before,
I have cased the joint at every point,
And there is no thirteenth floor.
The architect he skipped direct
From twelve unto fourteen,
There is twelve below and fourteen above,
And nothing in between,
For the vermin who dwell in this hotel
Could never abide thirteen."

Said Max, "Thirteen, that floor obscene,
Is hidden from human sight;
But once a year it doth appear,
On this Walpurgis Night.
Ere you peril your soul in murderer's role,
Heed those who sinned of yore;
The path they trod led away from God,
And onto the thirteenth floor,
Where those they slew, a grisly crew,
Reproach them forevermore.

"We are higher than twelve and below fourteen,"
Said Maxie to the bum,
"And the sickening draft that taints the shaft
Is a whiff of kingdom come.
The sickening draft that taints the shaft
Blows through the devil's door!"
And he squashed the latch like a fungus patch,
And revealed the thirteenth floor.

It was cheap cigars like lurid scars
That glowed in the rancid gloom,
The murk was a-boil with fusel oil
And the reek of stale perfume.
And round and round there dragged and wound
A loathsome conga chain,
The square and the hep in slow lock step,
The slayer and the slain.
(For the souls of the victims ascend on high,
But their bodies below remain.)

The clean souls fly to their home in the sky,
But their bodies remain below
To pursue the Cain who each has slain
And harry him to and fro.
When life is extinct each corpse is linked
To its gibbering murderer,
As a chicken is bound with wire around
The neck of a killer cur.

Handcuffed to Hate come Doctor Waite
(He tastes the poison now),
And Ruth and Judd and a head of blood
With horns upon its brow.
Up sashays Nan with her feathery fan
From Floradora bright;
She never hung for Caesar Young
But she's dancing with him tonight.

Here's the bulging hip and the foam-flecked lip
Of the mad dog, Vincent Coll,
And over there that ill-met pair,
Becker and Rosenthal,
Here's Legs and Dutch and a dozen such
Of braggart bullies and brutes,
And each one bends 'neath the weight of friends
Who are wearing concrete suits.

Now the damned make way for the double-damned
Who emerge with shuffling pace
From the nightmare zone of persons unknown,
With neither name nor face.
And poor Dot King to one doth cling,
Joined in a ghastly jig,
While Elwell doth jape at a goblin shape
And tickle it with his wig.

See Rothstein pass like breath on a glass,
The original Black Sox kid;
He riffles the pack, riding piggyback
On the killer whose name he hid.
And smeared like brine on a slavering swine,
Starr Faithful, once so fair,
Drawn from the sea to her debauchee,
With the salt sand in her hair.

And still they come, and from the bum
The icy sweat doth spray;
His white lips scream as in a dream,
"For God's sake, let's away!
If ever I meet with Pinball Pete
I will not seek his gore,
Lest a treadmill grim I must trudge with him
On the hideous thirteenth floor."

"For you I rejoice," said Maxie's voice,
"And I bid you go in peace,
But I am late for a dancing date
That nevermore will cease.
So remember, friend, as your way you wend,
That it would have happened to you,
But I turned the heat on Pinball Pete;
You see - I had a daughter, too!"

The bum reached out and he tried to shout,
But the door in his face was slammed,
And silent as stone he rode down alone
From the floor of the double-damned.

Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun with terror,
One unwilling step she takes,
Shuddering to the mirror.

Miranda in Miranda's sight
Is old and gray and dirty;
Twenty-nine she was last night;
This morning she is thirty.

Shining like the morning star,
Like the twilight shining,
Haunted by a calendar,
Miranda is a-pining.

Silly girl, silver girl,
Draw the mirror toward you;
Time who makes the years to whirl
Adorned as he adored you.

Time is timelessness for you;
Calendars for the human;
What's a year, or thirty, to
Loveliness made woman?

Oh, Night will not see thirty again,
Yet soft her wing, Miranda;
Pick up your glass and tell me, then--
How old is Spring, Miranda?

  There is something about a Martini,
A tingle remarkably pleasant;
A yellow, a mellow Martini;
I wish I had one at present.
There is something about a Martini,
Ere the dining and dancing begin,
And to tell you the truth,
It is not the vermouth--
I think that perhaps it's the gin.

  Consider the auk;
Becoming extinct because he forgot how to fly, and could only walk.
Consider man, who may well become extinct
Because he forgot how to walk and learned how to fly before he thinked.

  My fellow man I do not care for.
I often ask me, What's he there for?
The only answer I can find
Is, Reproduction of his kind.
If I'm supposed to swallow that,
Winnetka is my habitat.
Isn't it time to carve Hic Jacet
Above that Reproduction racket?

To make the matter more succint:
Suppose my fellow man extinct.
Why, who would not approve the plan
Save possibly my fellow man?
Yet with a politician's voice
He names himself as Nature's choice.

The finest of the human race
Are bad in figure, worse in face.
Yet just because they have two legs
And come from storks instead of eggs
They count the spacious firmament
As something to be charged and sent.

Though man created cross-town traffic,
The Daily Mirror, News and Graphic,
The pastoral fight and fighting pastor,
And Queen Marie and Lady Astor,
He hails himself with drum and fife
And bullies lower forms of life.

Not that I think much depends
On how we treat our feathered friends,
Or hold the wrinkled elephant
A nobler creature than my aunt.
It's simply that I'm sure I can
Get on without my fellow man.

  If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

It was a long time ago.
I have almost forgotten my dream.
But it was there then,
In front of me,
Bright like a sun--
My dream.
And then the wall rose,
Rose slowly,
Slowly,
Between me and my dream.
Rose until it touched the sky--
The wall.
Shadow.
I am black.
I lie down in the shadow.
No longer the light of my dream before me,
Above me.
Only the thick wall.
Only the shadow.
My hands!
My dark hands!
Break through the wall!
Find my dream!
Help me to shatter this darkness,
To smash this night,
To break this shadow
Into a thousand lights of sun,
Into a thousand whirling dreams
Of sun!

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

It was a long time ago.
I have almost forgotten my dream.
But it was there then,
In front of me,
Bright like a sun--
My dream.
And then the wall rose,
Rose slowly,
Slowly,
Between me and my dream.
Rose until it touched the sky--
The wall.
Shadow.
I am black.
I lie down in the shadow.
No longer the light of my dream before me,
Above me.
Only the thick wall.
Only the shadow.
My hands!
My dark hands!
Break through the wall!
Find my dream!
Help me to shatter this darkness,
To smash this night,
To break this shadow
Into a thousand lights of sun,
Into a thousand whirling dreams
Of sun!

  Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

  If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school.
The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.
A crumb of cake would be a feast
And last you seven days at least,
A flea would be a frightening beast
If you were one inch tall.

If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door,
And it would take about a month to get down to the store.
A bit of fluff would be your bed,
You'd swing upon a spider's thread,
And wear a thimble on your head
If you were one inch tall.

You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum.
You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb.
You'd run from people's feet in fright,
To move a pen would take all night,
(This poem took fourteen years to write--
'Cause I'm just one inch tall).

The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rate and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

Dear Knife,
Infinite pain
Build up deep inside
I have to let these feelings out
But who can I confide?
Dark silver blade
The only one I trust
The one I turn to
When life becomes too much

Dear Knife,
A babbling brook red and warm
From lies, hate, and betrayal thick and strong
Trickling down my arm
A dirty little secret they call self harm
Dear Knife,
Long black sleeves
To cover my pain
To hide my shame
To cover my grief
And hide my relief
That’s what you did for me
Dear Knife,
I thought you were my friend
Oh how I was wrong
You ruined my life
With a body covered in scars
You beg me to use you
But I now I’m done
Done with the hurting…and disappointing
Done with a dirty little secret they call self harm
But oh beloved knife, I know I bide you gone
I still always think of you
Through the dark rainy nights all so long
I guess I’ll always love you even though you did me wrong
You evil damned little thing…I use to know as self harm

I tell myself, to rise and shine, every morning.
I look at you, wondering Why? every day.
I go to sleep, with tears in my eyes, every night.
I tell myself, to appreciate and smile, every time.

I think of you, and feel sorrow, every morning.
I go to school, knowing you are there, every day.
I see shadows, floating by my eyes, every night.
I tell myself, to forget, I failed, every time.
I wake up, sad and exhausted, every morning.
I look insanely at you, you are with her, every day.
I tell myself, to rest my mind, every night.
I ask myself, who was we? Was it just me?

The day that you left us
You didn’t say good-bye.
God was calling his angel home,
There was no time to ask why.
How we cried when you left
The pain was felt by all.
Memories now is all we have
And your pictures on the wall.
Though I cannot see you,
I know that your still here.
In my memories you will always live,
In my heart you’re always near.
Tears have fallen for you,
Some happy and some sad.
A man that I grew up to love,
A man I called my Grand-Dad.
We miss you very dearly,
You’re missed very much.
You will never be forgotten,
You’re in a child’s touch.

You lie everyday to make it easy
But who is it easy for?
You sulk everyday to resist the pain
But who feels it?
You think it’s me, you said.
But it’s you, it’s you. Don’t forget.
You lied everyday to make it easy
But who was it easy for?
You sulked everyday to resist the pain
But who felt it?
You thought it was me, you said.
But it’s you, it’s you. Don’t forget

Never at all have suspicion
Let clarification be sought
Bring among none any division
Against none make an evil plot
Be honest in your noble mission
For the World’s welfare work a lot
By being to the core sincere
Try your goals without fear
Dry via kindness World’s tear
Politely express what you feel
Heart of no one you must hurt
Always prayer will surely heal
It will wash off soul’s dirt
When before God you kneel
To help you, you make God alert.

1991-2009
Dashed with the history of her life
From 5 year old laughing running in her Sunday school dress
A 10 year old refusing to sit on her daddy’s lap
To a 14 year rebelling, coming home past 12
To that very night that leads to her demise
Grievers and mourners walking up and down
Kept treading until reality began breaking through all around
As they lift the sepulcher
A memory crept across all their souls
Eulogy echoing through the silent constrains
And as of the day the moon never rose
Without bringing the family dreams
Of their daughter, niece, cousin who was once alive
Oh how still she lies
Colors of here soul imprinting in their eyes
Suicidal premonitions murdered her heart
But what she failed to recognize was the permanent pain she’d put in their lives
The ones that loved her… day and night
This is what happens after suicide
You may think you’re alone but just look around
You are loved that’s what I’m told
You are loved that’s what I know
Don’t give in keep fighting each and every day
Maybe someday you will see
How much you are loved
and all that you can truly be

Some days when sorrow grows too large
To hide behind this mask I wear.
Please pretend you do not see.
And please try not to stare.

Moms are the ones who care
For our little treasures here.

They fix the cuts and mend the holes.
They dry the tears and calm the souls.

Nobody can read a bedtime story like mom can.
At games or events, no one else is your child’s biggest fan.

You nurture and teach from the time of birth.
You give them consequences and hope they will understand what its worth.

With all the lessons that you hope they learned,
Will help them succeed and become a better person when they’re grown.

They might not always say thanks for all the little things you do,
But when I hear them speak about you, I would like to say, “Thank You.”

For all the time and effort you make,
And the twist and turns you take.

To get them everything their little hearts desire,
No matter how hard it may be to acquire.

You make ways when roads are blocked.
And give them time even when it seems like it’s no more left on the clock.

You do a great job and I see your results everyday.
So I will like to wish you a HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!!!

Enjoy today because you deserve it.
Take mommy-time because you’re ALWAYS WORTH IT!!!