The lily’s withered chalice falls
Around its rod of dusty gold,
And from the beech-trees on the wold
The last wood-pigeon coos and calls.
The gaudy leonine sunflower
Hangs black and barren on its stalk,
And down the windy garden walk
The dead leaves scatter,—hour by hour.
Pale privet-petals white as milk
Are blown into a snowy mass:
The roses lie upon the grass
Like little shreds of crimson silk.
Like labour-laden moonclouds faint to flee
From winds that sweep the winter-bitten wold,—
Like multiform circumfluence manifold
Of night’s flood-tide,—like terrors that agree
Of hoarse-tongued fire and inarticulate sea,—
Even such, within some glass dimmed by our breath,
Our hearts discern wild images of Death,
Shadows and shoals that edge eternity.
Howbeit athwart Death’s imminent shade doth soar
One Power, than flow of stream or flight of dove
Sweeter to glide around, to brood above.
Tell me, my heart;—what angel-greeted door
Or threshold of wing-winnowed threshing-floor
Hath guest fire-fledged as thine, whose lord is Love?
there were ways
you could let yourself out;
slip little bits of your soul
back into the wold
free it from your vessel,
let it no longer anchor you.
the cracks in my skin:
be the gateway to
you will be buffeted by the winds
you will sail far over the seas,
skimming its surfaces;
the hot winds in the desert might parch you.
and you will have lived
as long as you think you did.
she popped a few pills
and closed her eyes
going for a trip
experiencing a wild ride
she was tired of living
trapped in the grey
she fell down a hole
and gained a few shades
the wold was spinning
she felt upside down
she flew up too high
and got spun around
with weary limbs she
came back to earth
her tired feet found
balance in the dirt
her aching throat
whispered a sigh
she now saw the world
through kaleidoscope eyes
I remember that day i wept into your arms.
im not sure why i did,
but i cried and cried.
i think it was because i wanted to kill myself.
a reason why i didn't go through with it is because i didn't want to have to live in a world without you.
well, i have to now.
i live in a separate wold than you,
and that was one of my biggest fears,
and now i have to face it.
i tried to sleep but i drank wayyy too much coffee today.
also i wanna see the sun rise so i guess its whatever.
im not really concerned about punctuation or capitalization right now lol
me no spit English, me no no Englis, OK?
me barbarrrian, why u one me speak Englis?
u teach me inglish then u want me slave, ya?
u teach me englis and mik mee go from nuture,
from da trees and de lakes and hum of me ancesdors, ya?
and you teach me englis
glive me your stinkin additudes
mik me pollute wold and kill wold like you, yes?
I del u, me spit no englis but sdill u offer skolarsips
and mik me shange name, and then tick on Englis name, ya?
then peeple call me englis name like tom, prick, hairy
or my wife become susan or margate
and me become kristian, yeah?
why I say no englis still u want to tich me englsi
and give me book and mi say, mi say,
luk at my nikid bady laik da die I was born
liiiv me one
don't tiich me englis
or wan day I will kurs and swera in inglis
like who, who, who, like that monster I hard play story
is he nime Caliban, yeah?
me barbarrbaian, dun't mike i civilized like u;
me no no inglis;
me happi with me lunguge and me hum
and my trees and likes and annncesdral places¦
I no wants to spit engilsi and khanges my name and culturte!
and un I no wan to go fom humen!
leave me lone wan, I say! me no spit englis!
or I put u in pot if you no go!
I would bathe myself in strangeness:
These comforts heaped upon me, smother me!
I burn, I scald so for the new,
New friends, new faces,
Oh to be out of this,
This that is all I wanted
—save the new.
Love, you the much, the more desired!
Do I not loathe all walls, streets, stones,
All mire, mist, all fog,
All ways of traffic?
You, I wold have flow over me like water,
Oh, but far out of this!
Grass, and low fields, and hills,
Oh, sun enough!
Out, and alone, among some
I stood still and was a tree amid the wood,
Knowing the truth of things unseen before;
Of Daphne and the laurel bow
And that god-feasting couple old
that grew elm-oak amid the wold.
’Twas not until the gods had been
Kindly entreated, and been brought within
Unto the hearth of their heart’s home
That they might do this wonder thing;
Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood
And many a new thing understood
That was rank folly to my head before.
I wanted to say i'm sorry
for the way my hands shake
i can not control it
they say my little brother can not either
but he is different
hes autistic and he
but his words will shake
this wold someday
and i can not wait
to see who shakes then
this is to the kid
who pushed him down today
and to the girl
who laughed when he said
she was pretty
we all have our quirks
we just shake
There is snow on the ground,
And the valleys are cold,
And a midnight profound
Blackly squats o'er the wold;
But a light on the hilltops half-seen hints of feastings un-hallowed and old.
There is death in the clouds,
There is fear in the night,
For the dead in their shrouds
Hail the sin's turning flight.
And chant wild in the woods as they dance round a Yule- altar fungous and white.
To no gale of Earth's kind
Sways the forest of oak,
Where the sick boughs entwined
By mad mistletoes choke,
For these pow'rs are the pow'rs of the dark, from the graves of the lost Druid-folk.