Shall I compare thee to a midsummer’s day?
No I shall not
For thou is nothing like it
Thou’st temperance is nothing short of fair
A summer’s day is hot and vicious
But thou’st soul is of utmost gentility
A sweet cool temperance is thous heart
Thou is more like an autumn afternoon
With eyes the color of the clear blue sky
And temper of the soft cooling breeze
Thous beauty’s only competitor is the changing leaves
Unique and changing
Vibrant reds, greens and yellows that each tree holds
The warmth of the sun is thous love
A love that only I receive
That warms my own soul to the heat of the burning hearth
Where we lay in passion and love
For if I were to compare thou to a midsummers day
It would be an insult
Thou is more beautiful
Far more fair
Thou is like an autumn afternoon
With eyes like the sky in the clear afternoon

What use is it truly
To Wallow in dusty Words?
******* up those grey Clouds of Skin
Stuck upon those anachronistic Syllables
Lifting those Sounds upon your Tongue
And heaving them artlessly into the Air
To leave Brows Knitted
And Bowels Trembling
With confused Shock upon their Cheeks
From the hearing.

These are not Those without Whose would not be Could
Ever since you had that Choice
A Thing you should not have been given
And should not be given again.

Beowulf the hier of nothing of rot
Mother  he know not
Raised in shame banished wroght
Returned to his village to seek wrothgar a father he yet sought
News of death the sorrow he fought
Till the night trouble it brought

Grendal at night did strike
Killing thous from wicked and strife
None but Beowulf saw the **** of the fight
Guards did come, and saw a false sight
Beowulf they thought the killer that night
Sentenced to death but never to suffer that blight

Beowulf escaped and rode at dawn, Off to seek golem and where he lurk
Off to the woods there they found Grendal
With much haste golem charged Beowulf dirk was drawn
Hacking off the fingers of golem was hurt

Grendal roared and ran
Holding tightly to his wounded hand
Beowulf returned with trophy in bag gasps where made across the land
Guards double watch patrolling village to make a stand
Night came and blood was shed
Grendal made way to the mead hall all the way warriors bled
Beowulf was ready and calmly said
I have his fingers how about his arm instead
Attacking the creatures buckled arm ripping it off golem then ran and fled
Beowulf grabbed arms and said fingers now arm soon his head

They reassembled on horses arms ready and raged
Gave chase
All fell but Beowulf by accord golem laid dead he lead deeper around bend
mother by him seducing Beowulf of power and ***** by all that was said

Beowulf accepted the fouls bargain
But all was not well in thee end
Dragon flew to the sky warriors of King Beowulf Fend
Beowulf killed his son of the dervish deal the dragon
But deadly wounds of were not on dragon alone Beowulf had fallen both a killing blow send

Beowulf funeral ceremony of fire and water below the deep the foul was spotted to be burned alive with Beowulf lover in arms
Blasphemy and Treacherous woes for all of she slaughtered
Now known Beowulf deed leading men like fodder

Against them knowing deal he had waged
Too be written and sung in the latter days
Beowulf the hero king the liar the cheat they called
Beowulf the man flawed as all that ultimately brought his downfall

I can say my ABC’s
(As long as you hum the tune)
I can pick out my own clothes
I can count to one-thous-and
I can scrape my knee
And only cry a little
Hey, look at me, riding my bike
With no extra wheels;
I can go faster than sound, faster
Than I can think, faster than
I can realize,
This isn’t a good idea

I can sit silent
I can bite my tongue until it bleeds
I can talk to much
(Or not at all)
I can go to school every day
Feeling like going too fast down a tall hill
Faster, faster than
My legs can carry my body
Sliding and
Falling
Staring at my own ****** knee--
I guess we ran out of band-aids

I can see the strings behind the system
And I can cut them, too
Veins behind bible-paper skin
I can swear to God
(Or swear at God)
I can feel the ground beneath
My feet shifting, tidal pools
From sadness to hate
My best friend says,  just us against the world
And I’m not sure if I agree, but
I can always nod along.

I can be a king
For about fifty minutes on a
Tuesday morning
I can control your whole world
(Never was any good with my own)
I can find the skeletons in your closet
And the guns there, too
Hey, look at me
Front page again, promising
New insights to my
Motivations, manifesto
I can reduce your whole life
To your death
I can
I can
I can
I swear to God I can--

I can say my ABC’s
(As long as you hum the tune)
I can pick out my own clothes
I can count to one-thous-and.

I have always found trigonometry helpful,especially when boiling eggs,my maths teacher who was himself somewhat of an egg head,said,'it's all about angles,I read it as Angels and ever since then have been trying to plot a course to heaven.

I found Geography extremely useful,although I can't find my way back home on a Saturday night after a few pints of beer at the local inn,my tutors words come back to me,follow the spot on the end of your nose and you'll always go in the direction you are heading in.


Religious instruction was fascinating, who would have guessed there were so many thees and thous and sacred cows don't get a mention at all.Idols and idle men and prophets who preach for no profit at all,seas that part and fishermen and romans who rule are they the rowmen?

Sports was good.the physical exertion of training,the rugby field in the pouring rain,and the medicine ball..which we used if we needed no medicine at all. I climbed up the ropes in the gymnasium and expected to disappear,like some fakir in the backstreets of Bombay.it never happened and I'm still climbing

#English lessons. why is the language of my fathers all greek to me,past imperfect,present tense,commas and the colon,what a bleedin' carry on,Keats and Shelly and what the hell is poetry,my English teacher who was called Gupta Singh taught me all I ever knew.

Music, food for the gods and food for the cats and the piano never played in key.teacher said it was me who couldn't carry the tune,the oboe,bassoon,the flute,lute,triangle,the jingle jangle of mediocrity is everything that music means to me.

Art,the only lesson in which I really took part..loved the splashing of colours and the butter of words on the sheets,loved the wisdom of wordsworth,the delicacy of picasso and then,in the factory when I left school there was art in the furnace,in the pig iron and ingots,the melting of iron the fire and the bellows...but I saw none of it because work took it away from me,artists are only ever free when they're painting or writing and not working to stave off starvation.

yes school taught me so much but now it's all gone, as the headmaster told me....'you'll never be anything if you don't make something of your life' or is it that the headmasters gone and life goes on,...

Philosophy was good too.

Biology taught me that we come from eggs and we could have been ducks or platypii..and pi is not a platypus but a mathematical equation..education may help us to learn but it can be very confusing.

History..it's always good to know that we walk on the bones of the dead as we wander through The battlefield of history.and that Mesopotamia which is historical is also biblical, two lessons in one,

education on the cheap.

the legions of your
       laughter march
across the bread of dawn

eated of eyes the
        savory crumbs
ofthy disheveled breaths

trampling of thous sinuous
          colours broaching clasp of
sudden cannons of silence booming

the fair article of your poppies
(          bashful flocks of cords
.... sifting mercury of doves feathers

exploding against the dark
             i bastioned in thy infinite
plait, onyx detonating softly of
             thy pale scalp

glory my excellent lavender
              no sweeter scent
has sweated in the air as thou's ephemeral

dainty river cleaving the clean night
              in exact twain of pallor
wet seconds blushing on the purple cheeks of nocturne

she is a fair lady
               but homely against thy
visage.
                 .
                     .  O night

The whys or where's
nor the for art thous
or the perhaps now
I know not
the love me nows
nor loved me then
or even the when
I know not
the cerulean sky
nor the indigo goodbye
or the softest sigh...
I know not
when words tried
nor when the rhythm died
or Poetry became a lie
I know not
the how's or wherefores
or keeping score
but
I know when
love of something
begins to end
bleeding from lacerations
bashed against rocks...
*I know then...

The doors open.

Engines roar and wind howls
The smell of exhaust fills the space
Here stand, weighted down, with clenched bowels
The line moves forward at a dizzying pace
I make eye contact with JM and hand him my line
I pivot and jump and for a moment I'm flying
All I see is blue sky, my feet feet point at the horizon

One thousand, two thousand, three thous.....ahhh!

The chute opens with a thundering snap
Check the risers, check the canopy, watch the plane fly away
Look down at the world, spread out below like a map
Taste the air, feel the wind, get control of my sway
Undo the ties holding the weapon case on my side
Give a whoop!  
No, be quiet  
Professional pride

Look at how the sun reflects off the stream below me in the woods and turns it into a molten golden serpent.

Right now, if someone saw my eyes tear up I'd blame it on the wind
Oh, how long until I can do this again?

How harmonious the amber creeks,
Rocking smoothly from mine chair,
Sipping wormwood, mercury and jupiter tea,
Ambrosial be the air watched from west the shores

Found I, him when my years be only few,
Brooding, betwixt toil and melancholy curses,
One whispers, the other answers,
But, knowing not the suffering be here

‘And, I struck deep his heart fitting proper a jester,
Secrets mine loyal is laughter,
O’ how sweet the mind on Elysian Fields,
Yet divine his despair, so sad, so fresh

O love, I die in your star filled skies,
A sun jewel sinking on velvet drapes,
Dulcet my lonely vapoured song,
Dying, dying, dying

A kiss after death, rotting upward from the netherworld,
O Death, O sweet, wilt thous know immortal passion,
Before pocket and pride?
Drunk of absinth, through hazed did ye love thee?

Mercury sparkles in pools below the chair,
And mine fancies be sky glow worms pulsing near,
Cave hulled labyrinths of memories time passed,
His soul rose into mine blood

I loved thee weaving golden in rocking chair,
Dancing with warm Nile winds,
Flanking sky dragons after sun sparkles,
O he thought heart diseased of loves adoration

Improper the vex was touted, time precious before thee
Of fifty I must be, with magick death and lust I shall be,
And thine so effect lives on in me, a mere trifle ye,
His pastime, dreaming of the skies to be

And still a secret dreaming sweetness in the sea,
He looked upon mine crown of Tao and gold in glee,
Mystics glory in a bed of moonlight death,
Found I, an angel mused he, to call thee fooled

Dreamed I, none be spring, and summer neither more,
And thorned a new crown, the fool his winter dawn,
His claw deep a finger bled, his glory shadowy form,
So, dearest, thou art thy likeness wise dead cold

His darkness uttering shadows, beautiful with thee,
My darkened ways, take Ravens wings ascend yee who read,
Love be, no single tear, yet binds mercuries silver rivers near,
The old amber chair rocked to and fro, grey her hair,

Mortal hands weaved, love runs silver

── whence ever death be near

© Arnay Rumens 2015

i was is my hands drugs)!
         evaporating splendorous
      sugar canes
                            the ruby of muscled
hell
             and discharge of sinuous
      marvels

                when the fat skinny
is in vulnerable propagation
       a cloud
                       gilded
    and spake "
                             you are sweat and pain and tenuous ,
  meet thy shall i when thous tedious crumb
        is spent human shell by the ground
          resting in loose solid soil
            bath and"
                                             thus
      rattled the increment of
                                                   lovely      and kind

         death      whom
                                              i       argue
          upon daily
                                    and

                                                      make

in the extremity of my ladies passionate jib
          my current cells
              speak loudly the name
                                                     of life
             in her vambrace
                                           of muddled pink
intoxication. my ex cellent fauld

Rough Pine Boxes
For six foot drops.

Dance hall twirling
Till music stops.

Love triangles
Hard to balance

Music plays on
We blew our chance.

Today's heartbreak
Is not new news.

Fools will rush in
The cool stay cool.

Seek salvation
On bended knees.

Whisper softly
In thous and thees.

Cannot undo
Our written past.

Rough pine boxes
Cry free at last.

By: Cedric McClester

Ya know it’s forbidden
And yet you’ve tarried
You’re livin together
But you ain’t married
Why buy the cow
When the milk is for free
Ya know what I’m sayin
Are you listenin to me

A sin is a sin
You can’t wish it away
Morality changes
But what did God say
A sin is a sin
Just like it was then
All I wanna know
Is are you listenin'

Now let’s talk about
This modern day drama
Where is the father
Who slept with the mama
And who’s gonna take
Responsibility
For the family breakdown
We see frequently

A sin is a sin
You can’t wish it away
Morality changes
But what did God say
A sin is a sin
Just like it was then
All I wanna know
Is are you listenin'

A sin is a sin
Like it was before
It won’t go away
Because you ignore
The fact that it is
As it always was
It’s still measured by
What one does

Can we be forgiven
No doubt that we can
But now is the time
To take a stand
If you believe in God
Then follow His word
Over anything else
You might have preferred

A sin is a sin
You can’t wish it away
Morality changes
But what did God say
A sin is a sin
Just like it was then
All I wanna know
Is are you listenin'

A sin is a sin
Like it was before
It won’t go away
Because you ignore
The fact that it is
As it always was
It’s still measured by
What a person does

Thous Shalt not ****
But we’re droppin' like flies
Isn’t it time
That we open our eyes
There is a cost
And a price we must pay
If not right now
It's coming some day

A sin is a sin
You can’t wish it away
Morality changes
But what did God say
A sin is a sin
Just like it was then
All I wanna know
Is are you listenin'

A sin is a sin
Like it was before
It won’t go away
Because you ignore
The fact that it is
As it always was
It’s still measured by
What a person does

A sin is a sin
You can’t wish it away
Morality changes
But what did God say
A sin is a sin
Just like it was then
All I wanna know
Is are you listenin


(c) Copyright, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.

I take my gun and walk out that door to welcome hell 1.2.3.4.5.6 rounds hit me. I am still stand and i give them back 30 rounds of ammo as i bleed out i and killing all of thous basters that took my love. 1000 of them and 1 of me. I am hell on wheels and I will not stop till you r all dead. 1. 2 .3 .4 .5 .6 .7.8. eight rounds eight dead. A another bullet hits me. As i keep standing i can see my friends be hind them they open fire they are 100 strong. we will fight till we r all dead we will keep you safe. get that r.p.g over her. take that ******* ****** out. You OK. crap you are bleeding out.  I am not going to make it. help me up. lets finish this. aaaaaaaaaaaa. 1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10...............20. rounds hit me. as i lie there i can see my life flash right be fore my eyes. i am coming my love. i will be there soon.

All around me are loved ones but even closer is you. You mad me happy ever since we met but now u love some one else i am a man of god. I lost that when you told me how felt. I here the voices yelling talking won ting me to heart thous who i love. i heart you meany times i have felled you my love. i am sorry. will you love me back

The brake room is a minefield,
filled with factless options,
readily being shouted across the room.

"Man I can stand thous ****."
Clams one boy,
to young to already have his judgement clouded by the hatred in this world.

"It's like all of a sudden this world is loosing it's morals..."
mumbles another,
quietly,
ever so quietly I sit,
surrounded by people who,
though they don't know it,
hate me.

"Those Democrats think they can strip this of all it stands for."

Finally the loudest of them,
turns to me,
and dares to ask,
"What's your option in all this little lady?"

I look at the faces of these men,
all but one are far past there prime,
and I,
the small new girl,
feel like a gazelle surrounded by lions.

They already know my option,
they've assumed,
"You have to be liberal with blue hair like that, no to mention the ****** piercings..."

"Well, I'll put it this way,"
I say when I finally find it in me to speak,
"If I can't cry at my best friends wedding because some,
close minded,
self centered,
*******,
are to discussed by the fact that she is not marrying someone who fits there standers,
but instead is marrying for love,
we're gonna have a problem."

They sit there for a minute,
ether pondering my words,
or out of sheer shock that I spoke at all,
and I use that moment to take my leave.

When one shouts after me,
"Eh, your young, your option doesn't even really matter yet."

To which I have no choose but to point out that,
"My option is one of the future, that is where where heading, and it doesn't matter if you like it cuz you have you head to far up your *** to see it anyways."

And with this,
I finally am freed from this accursed room,
from now on I'll take me lunches in my office.

The overflowing sadness,
that courses through thy vein.
Thy heavy mask,
that thou places upon thy face,
for thous never-ending show.
But thou always ask is it worth it?
for is it really worth it?.

"M'APPARI TUTT' AMOR..."

Here in the church
of my father's carpentry

the incense is
of pine

sunlight genuflects
through the window

wood curls
in religious ecstasy

a blue bottle
preaches an  iridescent  sermon

a choir of dust motes
make this a heaven

as my father hums
"M'appari tutt' amor.."

this my epiphany
of the ordinary

this the everyday
prayer

I bow my head to
the saw as it sings

"....bella si che il mio cor ..."

*

"M'APPARI TUTT' AMOR..."Lionel's aria from from Flotow's Martha

You can see this sung as a charming serenade in the film BREAKING AWAY ! and in the soapuds episode from ***** WONKA AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY and used here and there in Hitchcock's REAR WINDOW.

There are also two swing versions.

My Da didn't know any of this and it was just a passing air on the radio that got stuck in his head and he would hum or la la la it every now and then as he hammered or sawed without knowing anything about it! It was only years later when he was 90 that I was able to tell him what it was and get him a recording of Domingo singing it.

Of course it features highly in a certain Mr. Joyce book as well. Caruso had made it popular and Joyce always a big Caruso fan( he had hoped to do an interview with the great man when he came to Dublin but that came to nothing.)

‘Singing. Waiting she sang. I turned her music. Full voice of perfume of what perfume does your lilactrees. ***** I saw, both full, throat warbling. First I saw. She thanked me. Why did she me? Fate. Spanishy eyes. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Delores shedolores. At me. Luring. Ah, alluring.

—Martha! Ah, Martha!
Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in cry of passion dominant to love to return with deepening yet with rising chords of harmony. In cry of lionel loneliness that she should know, must martha feel. For only her he waited. Where? Here there try there here all try where. Somewhere.
—Co-ome, thous lost one!
Co-ome, thou dear one!
Alone. One love. One hope. One comfort me. Martha, chestnote, return!
—Come …!
It soared, a bird, it held its flight, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to come, don’t spin it out too long long breath he breath long life, soaring high, high resplendent, aflame, crowned high in the effulgence symbolistic, high, of the etherial *****, high, of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the all, the endlessnessnessness …….
—To me!
Siopold!
Consumed.’

The Last Rose of Summer was inserted into the opera as well. Caruso made both popular. I only came across it by my Da whistling it with nails clasped in his teeth. Took me about 30 years to find out what it was. Just the opening bars would get to me always. Then it started turning up in Joyce and everywhere. Strange the ways of the world.

What is this putrid and
vile creature
rapping at my door?

In mangles, borne-
stricken with
a sore decay.

festered arms reaching
thin as blades in winter-
pocked skin draped.

Clawing at gowns
and masks
to no avail.

From such weakened stature
upon the floor
sprawled and lying.

Were ever you proud?

Are you of what John Donne
spoke when he boasted
“Death, be not...”?

Tubes tethered slack
Keep thous poison
from thy veins.

And dance on-
Lo! The broken glory;
rapping still in pain.

Whats all the ******* about having a secret
It's never been before in history or time a sin..
Who ever said one has to tell everyone everything
It's your own business what you know of to begin..

To hell with the nosey gossipers and others in life
A secret is something that you alone only knows..
The rest can go climb back up their lonely trees
You to know stuff the rest that's simply how it goes..

There's no rules that having a secret is any kind of a crime
What's in and in your mind for you alone to know..
The entire rest can try at best to get a life with zest
All the self rightious the gossipers holier than thous it's so..

Everyone has their share of secrets never told in life
Only they want to know yours not you their very own..
Secrets are the little bits of life that's known alone by you
To hell with all who don't have one and have never grown..

Adds a little bit that only belongs to you alone in life
Secrets make life worth living gives a soul a little fire..
Adds a little bit that only belongs to you alone in life..
Not having a secret turns negative imagination into a lier..

Keep your secrets make sure you have got some good one's
Make them romantic as can possibly be loving to say the least..
Have them really worth keeping for a smile later on in life
As to on a bad days give your soul with memory a feast..

Share your secret with one that as well can keep one too
If they are a part of a most beautiful moment just with you..
Giving magic moments all you have to offer at any time
And as a secret they'll come back with a smile in time it's true..

Secrets are beautiful memories of pure gold to remember
But keep them as secrets forever within you alone to know..
If you have not any go make as many that will have you smile
In distant times to come but make them magic if possible it's so..

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018