Don't fall for me
Don't fall in love with me
When you love me
you also love my
mishaps
flaws
mistakes
demons
I will over-analyze you
and every word you say
and every move you make
You'll see that I'm a mess
and majority of the time
I don't know what the hell is
going on
I'm a clutz and trip over my own
two feet
I'm needy and I'll often ask you if you seriously do
love me
My emotions are so big and wide that I have enough to go
around for everyone who doesn't give a ****
but if you decide to fall in love with me
regardless of all this
I'll write you poems so sweet
that they'll sound like melodies
I'll love you like the sun loves the moon
I'll care for you in a way that is so gentle and delicate
I will always be there
I'll be your rock
I'll love all the things you swear you hate about yourself
I'll make constellations out of your freckles
and a new galaxy will be found in your eyes
I'll find beauty in your flaws
and you'll wonder why you never loved yourself
in the way that
I love you
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
I am peace and purity.
I am the sky,
I am the sun,
I am the moon,
I am the earth.
King Gojong proclaimed my birthday to be March 6, 1883.
I am spring,
I am summer,
I am autumn,
I am the winter.
I died in the year 1910
The winter of Japan.
I was born again on October 15, 1949.
I am the father,
I am the daughter,
I am the son,
I am a lonely mother.
I was torn in half in the year 1950.
So much pain so many tears I have seen.
I am some bad.
I am some good.
I've seen so many miracles and other amazing things.
It's all about balance!
I am beautiful, and I am loved.
Do you know my name?
© 2013 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
1
You said 'The world is going back to Paganism'.
Oh bright Vision! I saw our dynasty in the bar of the House
Spill from their tumblers a libation to the Erinyes,
And Leavis with Lord Russell wreathed in flowers, heralded with flutes,
Leading white bulls to the cathedral of the solemn Muses
To pay where due the glory of their latest theorem.
Hestia's fire in every flat, rekindled, burned before
The Lardergods. Unmarried daughters with obedient hands
Tended it By the hearth the white-armd venerable mother
Domum servabat, lanam faciebat. at the hour
Of sacrifice their brothers came, silent, corrected, grave
Before their elders; on their downy cheeks easily the blush
Arose (it is the mark of freemen's children) as they trooped,
Gleaming with oil, demurely home from the palaestra or the dance.
Walk carefully, do not wake the envy of the happy gods,
Shun Hubris. The middle of the road, the middle sort of men,
Are best. Aidos surpasses gold. Reverence for the aged
Is wholesome as seasonable rain, and for a man to die
Defending the city in battle is a harmonious thing.
Thus with magistral hand the Puritan Sophrosune
Cooled and schooled and tempered our uneasy motions;
Heathendom came again, the circumspection and the holy fears ...
You said it. Did you mean it? Oh inordinate liar, stop.
2
Or did you mean another kind of heathenry?
Think, then, that under heaven-roof the little disc of the earth,
Fortified Midgard, lies encircled by the ravening Worm.
Over its icy bastions faces of giant and troll
Look in, ready to invade it. The Wolf, admittedly, is bound;
But the bond wil1 break, the Beast run free. The weary gods,
Scarred with old wounds the one-eyed Odin, Tyr who has lost a hand,
Will limp to their stations for the Last defence. Make it your hope
To be counted worthy on that day to stand beside them;
For the end of man is to partake of their defeat and die
His second, final death in good company. The stupid, strong
Unteachable monsters are certain to be victorious at last,
And every man of decent blood is on the losing side.
Take as your model the tall women with yellow hair in plaits
Who walked back into burning houses to die with men,
Or him who as the death spear entered into his vitals
Made critical comments on its workmanship and aim.
Are these the Pagans you spoke of? Know your betters and crouch, dogs;
You that have Vichy water in your veins and worship the event
Your goddess History (whom your fathers called the strumpet Fortune).
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
Lead us, Evolution, lead us
Up the future's endless stair;
Chop us, change us, **** us, **** us.
For stagnation is despair:
Groping, guessing, yet progressing,
Lead us nobody knows where.
Wrong or justice, joy or sorrow,
In the present what are they
while there's always jam-tomorrow,
While we tread the onward way?
Never knowing where we're going,
We can never go astray.
To whatever variation
Our posterity may turn
Hairy, squashy, or crustacean,
Bulbous-eyed or square of stern,
Tusked or toothless, mild or ruthless,
Towards that unknown god we yearn.
Ask not if it's god or devil,
Brethren, lest your words imply
Static norms of good and evil
(As in Plato) throned on high;
Such scholastic, inelastic,
Abstract yardsticks we deny.
Far too long have sages vainly
Glossed great Nature's simple text;
He who runs can read it plainly,
'Goodness = what comes next.'
By evolving, Life is solving
All the questions we perplexed.
Oh then! Value means survival-
Value. If our progeny
Spreads and spawns and licks each rival,
That will prove its deity
(Far from pleasant, by our present,
Standards, though it may well be).
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
Beautiful as faith!
Beautiful as hope!
Beautiful as your parents helping God bring an angel into this world.
Beautiful as brother and sister playing.
Beautiful as hearing children laughing.
Beautiful as warm sunshine though a window,
On a cold winter's day.
Beautiful as a garden of colorful roses.
Beautiful as a rainbow.
Beautiful as cotton clouds floating in a blue sky.
Beautiful when you look up to heaven with a bright smile.
Beautiful as happiness.
Beautiful when you play piano song.
Your piano song is so beautiful it makes me cry.
You are beautiful as...
(C) 2014 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
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?
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
Beloved,
In what other lives or lands
Have I known your lips
Your Hands
Your Laughter brave
Irreverent.
Those sweet excesses that
I do adore.
What surety is there
That we will meet again,
On other worlds some
Future time undated.
I defy my body's haste.
Without the promise
Of one more sweet encounter
I will not deign to die.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.
But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.
But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC