-
With every touch commingled as before,
And every breath and every aspiration,
-
How shall I serve a One who is all-wise?
Some greatest One? An oldest and most strong?
-
To whom we often plead, mischievous Gods:
These monuments of truth leave myth behind;
-
You've seen these skies under a different sun;
its rays caress the winds but not the same
-
You've seen these waters as the storm clouds stage
as the wild winds stream
-
How cold will my blood be before I die?
Before the frozen bones of friendship thin?
-
Nothing glows; her golden door is closed;
Her harbor's baited lamp has turned away.
-
To share... To share... Oh please don't make me share
the hurts and pains and loss of love remiss;
-
What superstition thrived within these hearts
To drag their tombs, as mountains in compare,
-
mist slips through weepy night
as spitter spatter sheens of spot
-
Oh Spring, I've seen your rising sphere, the dawn
In fertile fields of green, of copper bright;
-
I hear her as I breathe the evening calm,
And wonder as the million stars ascend;
-
Ode to a Belaboured Scientist,
Whose pithy words and brilliance o'er shines
-
"\We have found the weapons of mass destruction.\"
- President George W. Bush, May 29, 2003
-
Though you're not dead, you died so long ago,
When truth became a trick of entertainment;
-
For these and every mote of evidence;
For Freedom, Truth, for Law's most learned devout,
-
Most silence feels what wasn't sound;
each shrill and screeching cry a choice
-
Though looming night might ease my dread mistake,
(We each wear one, like passion Hushed away),
-
What is more dear to me, a sound or scene?
Acoustic resonance to shake and shudder,
-
If not for sense, then what does silence me,
-
-
The orbits of the spheres have wound to see
The rolling tides where Spring has swelled the moon;
-
Drawn from a wayward wind, dragged loathing slow
Across the moore, to scratch a frozen knife
-
An artist paints his life from mark to end,
from mix to finish, like the pigment oils
-
Unworthy us, Archaic verse, so heel below,
and lose from form the Modern prose:
-
Profess! In these give fortune seldom chance, when hearts aver with love's last whispered power,
-
If free, I would unmake love with a choice
that next to yours did tremble never near enough.
-
You should refuse me if the pain's too much when burning skies wreak ruin in the land.
-
Leave me where the snows will fall; I'll lay myself a bed beneath
-
A mortared prison, stained per my array,
no windows here to peer or look ahead,
-
Such timeless severances, though high the price
That calmest anguish (loneliness) endears,
-
And where the tide may lead, though reasons grasp,
they yield the course to delve where hopes take hold,
-
How high may spirits soar? How high is hope?
How high is happiness? How high the sky?
-
Find ye here your happiness!
Beyond the meadow o'er twisted dale:
-
Feel free to love, for none but pain and woe,
If loving me has brought you only this;
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