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Have you ever stopped to think
how much of your own Anguish
you've brought upon yourself?

Externalizing the source in a narcissistic tantrum,
One tends to find a scapegoat for One's own Shadow
and in turn disrespects the external Realm
almost as much as the internal.

Humility, Self-Discipline and Patience
are necessary for One to realize the truest sources of One's problems,
for many of One's problems originate within Oneself
and One then proceeds to socially pressurize others just to blow off One's own steam.

I am not immune;
I am my closest reference:
I reflect upon patterns in myself
which in turn help me to see them in others.

Although I am but my own case study,
I find it only reasonable that similar patterns would arise elsewhere as well.
When all the ships
Have gone to sea
And no one’s left
On shore but me,
Will you forget
My golden hair;
Forsake me for
The salty air?
When winds, they blow
And storms, they rage,
In thoughts of me
Will you engage?
And when the mist,
It coats your face,
Is it my breath
That you will taste?
1997
I have to get out now.
I have to find the door.
I have to know there is a different place.
I have to know there is more.
~
I have to keep going.
I have to keep my head.
I have to climb higher than this valley.
I have to believe that I'm not dead.
~
I have to sleep alone.
I have to live awake.
I have got to wake the ugly monster.
I have to give what I can't take.
~
I have to rise up now.
I have to walk away.
I have to trust-all defenses down
I have to see another day.
2007
It holds no water, my water bed, where metal crumbles at my breath.
The powders hard the needles soft if I have lost you then I have lost.
A hobo needs his *****, blues and shoes.
A country reflecting on its past is no country at all but a country bound to run into a wall.
Rain was washing the money clean and the river washed it all down the stream.
When lightning struck the house last night it didn’t **** anybody just scared them right.
I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,
  As being pass’d away.—Vain sympathies!
  For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
I see what was, and is, and will abide;
Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide;
  The Form remains, the Function never dies;
  While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
We Men, who in our morn of youth defied
The elements, must vanish;—be it so!
  Enough, if something from our hands have power
  To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
  Through love, through hope, and faith’s transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.
O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm.
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.
Ah! she did depart!

Soon after she was gone from me,
A traveller came by,
Silently, invisibly:
He took her with a sigh.
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