As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say
The breath goes now, and some say, No:
So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move,
’Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.
Moving of th’ earth brings harms and fears,
Men reckon what it did and meant,
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.
Dull sublunary lovers’ love
(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
Those things which elemented it.
But we by a love so much refined
That our selves know not what it is,
Inter-assurèd of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.
Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two;
Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th’ other do.
And though it in the centre sit,
Yet when the other far doth roam,
It leans and hearkens after it,
And grows ***** as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must
Like th’ other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.
Dec 10, 2024
Dec 10, 2024 at 6:09 PM UTC
No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manner of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
Dec 10, 2024
Dec 10, 2024 at 6:09 PM UTC
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou **** me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy'or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Dec 10, 2024
Dec 10, 2024 at 6:09 PM UTC
You didn’t know you found your very own Icarus.
She seeks the sky
Full of pride
Full of belief
—she can do better than those who came before her.
She has spent years fawning over those wings of wax—
Denying realities of
Gravity’s fatal pull,
Rejecting effects of
Scorching heat.
She doesn’t want you to stop her
(Though she loves you because she knows you’ll try).
Just like those who came before her,
She understands there is but one moment to
Feel the sun,
The gilded air,
Before burning up
Or crashing into eternal shade.
Apr 18, 2023
Apr 18, 2023 at 11:43 PM UTC
I’m writing tonight.
It’s been awhile; I’ve been quiet,
Like I had nothing to say.
Apr 18, 2023
Apr 18, 2023 at 11:15 PM UTC
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 9:49 PM UTC
alone, at midnight,
a glutton, i writhe with shame —
mac ‘n’ cheese my bane.
Jan 22, 2020
Jan 22, 2020 at 1:22 AM UTC
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Dec 2, 2019
Dec 2, 2019 at 10:52 PM UTC
Tonight, this **** dog
Keeps farting himself awake.
Sleep seems quite futile.
Dec 2, 2019
Dec 2, 2019 at 10:48 PM UTC
boys
the way you try to look away in time
the way your hair falls in your face
or the way you hide under that hat or that band shirt
the way you pull me close
the way you smell my hair
and the way you throw me away
the way you lay your head on my chest
the way you talk like love
but the way you act like lust
the way you pick you pants up off my floor
the way you tie your shoes
and the way you walk out the door
men
the way your hands hold
like you’ve never seen something so precious
the way your nose is sweet
and the way your face is kind
the way you close your eyes when you smile
the way you sigh when my hands are in your hair
the way you ask me what i think
and the way you like who i am
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 12:48 PM UTC