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It is raised a corpulent Spirit,
dangling it legs suggestively,
over the abyss of national identity,
an ideological state apparatus, BANG!

Mind the gap of danger when boarding and alighting trains.
Blake, Althusser, Cuchulainn, the Oxford Comma, and Me.
WHO ARE YOU?
I am he.
WHO ARE YOU?
I am he.
WHO ARE YOU?
I am he.
WHO ARE YOU?
I am he.
WHO ARE YOU?
......
WHO ARE YOU?
I am he.
To escape for a moment the flagrant mediocrity of hummdrummcommutertaxreturnquiltedjacketfilingcabinetcivilservants­pellcheckingcontractsigninghandshaking, oppressively banal, repetitive, shitness of everyday (notomittingthedayindayoutsuburbanlivingwiththeparentssingleprete­nsiousartsstudentdogpissinginthevegetablegarden blandness of this awfulcrapshortanddissapointing) life?
So, Mr Nimoy,
Your time has finally come,
Your long and prosperous life is done,
And now your being typecast in a better place.
Nomore will you voyage through space,
Or sing those silly songs on youtube.
It was always your tube, Nimoy,
When you paced the bridge of the Enterprise.  
Now you've been beamed up for good,
And your first officer's log is closed.
Obituary poem for Leonard Nimoy (1931-2015).
Fills you with majesty it does, this ****** place –
a few stars above.  
When light left this one, Napoleon walked the earth.  
This other, Julius Caesar.  
Wonderful -  The whole dreadful lot of it.  
A train approaches  – headlights and what have you,
colouring the sky pink, like everything else around here –
this strip of crust, this bay, these obscure designs of a people,
moralisers and chastisers and spell checkers breathing temperate breaths.  in and out all day for 160 ka, or there about.  
haughty on pretence – out there on July 26th 1807, the Rochdale sank with a pop, a bang and a glug,
The Prince of Wales wouldn’t be left behind. GLUG GLUG GLUG.  
and the night came over all funny just then,
fizzled into something else for a short while and returned to its current state.  
NOBODY NOTICED
Venting my irritation at myself and all the rest of it.  This is what Wordsworth would have written like if he used public transport.
Oh ye men of Greece and Rome,
Too long have ye laboured,
Feel you not what is to come,
the grass by the wall of the ruin?  

Leave ye down your tools, ancient peoples,
know you not what is to come?  
See you not the pass of many years,
the grass through pavements old?

Great enterprise never sprung from a fertile land,
Go ye into the desert, and there build your temples,
Amongst the sands and beneath the sun,
where grass can never grow.  

Here the  lines and here the verse,
Here the vaults and chimneys,
Hark the turning of the days,
eek the tall and terrible days.  

Lo, the falling of a chimney,
Lo, the crack of stones to splinter,
Lo, the old oak tree stands yawning.
better to build from bushes and thorn.  

Have at your lawnmowers, ye council men,
And see what good it does you,
Think ye can halt the rise and fall,
of strong towers left to ruin?

Have at your anoraks, and have at your coats,
Clouds gather above and rankle the parapet,
Here stood a roof, here a joist, here a beam,
blackened in the soot and flames –  here falls the rain.  

Have at your sickles, and have at your hammers,
Go back to steppe and sod from whence ye came,
And never more disturb the sepulchral vaults,
where lie long dead men of Greece and Rome.
I suppose this comes close to a cheap imitation of something Coledridge might have written - general romanticism, splashes of the gothic, and plenty of blunt apathy - all it needs is a screeching owl and some auld sailor bloke.  Look, its still better than anything Michael D. Higgins ever wrote.  

Middle English Glossary: eek - also/additionally/besides.
Early Modern English Glossary: Lo - an exclamation.  
Whence - where from (dative form of 'where').

These are not deliberate archaicisms for the sake of it, I just think they sound nice.  The word 'ye' is used because it is just as good as 'you'.

And yes, sliding in and out of blank verse is intentional.  Doesn't sound nice - good, it's not meant to.  God I love formalism.
Erstens:

Muss ich denn?
Du musst.

Soll ich denn?
Du sollst.

Willst ich denn?
Du willst.  

Zweitens:

Liebst du?
Ein Bischen.

Lebst du?
Ein Bischen.  

Schlafst du?  
Wenn es klingelt, schlafe ich -  
wenn der Himmel brennt, und die grosse Götter lacheln.  
Funken und Hörner, sozusagen.  

Ich schlafe meistens nicht.

Verwundert?
Anyone here speak German?
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