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 Oct 2019 Caroline
TW
I spoke to you on January 6th,
Staff party at the bar and it was tragic as ****,
So I'm walking outside to have a *** and just sit,
You told me "I got something better", thought you'd hand me a spliff,
But you gave me a cigar and we were having some drinks,
Everybody's inside getting gatted and blitzed,
But us two are doing good, sipping whiskey on the rocks,
Knew we weren't allowed but we'd risk it for the shots.

Got to talking about the future, what we plan to achieve,
It was like you sprung to life and told me fabulous dreams,
I was headed back to uni, that's the standard, it seems,
But you had hunger in your stomach, made you travel and leave,
So you saved every penny from the job that we hated,
And you gave up many offers to get properly faded,
Because you knew you had to get away from offices, papers,
And all the obstacles they drop on you to stop you from greatness.

Then you left a day later.
I moved away and we soon became strangers.
I called it the trip of a lifetime, guess I was stating facts,
Because you left on a plane and you never made it back,
And now I'm on track to go and waste my days in a cubicle,
I think that's why I couldn't show my face at your funeral,
And so in life, when the hard parts have got me pacing,
I'll try to remember our last conversation.
Rest easy Joe, we didn't know each other that well but I think about that night a lot.
Brown and furry
Caterpillar in a hurry,
Take your walk
To the shady leaf, or stalk,
Or what not,
Which may be the chosen spot.
No toad spy you,
Hovering bird of prey pass by you;
Spin and die,
To live again a butterfly.
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Perfection is being content in ones own world

Perfection is perceiving the cracks in the wall as a piece of art
Withered autumnal branches
Dreaming of blooms in spring

Perfection sought, to please the world
Leaves one imperfect and discontented
In this, perception oriented perfect world
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert… Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
Virtue runs before the muse
And defies her skill,
She is rapt, and doth refuse
To wait a painter's will.

Star-adoring, occupied,
Virtue cannot bend her,
Just to please a poet's pride,
To parade her splendor.

The bard must be with good intent
No more his, but hers,
Throw away his pen and paint,
Kneel with worshippers.

Then, perchance, a sunny ray
From the heaven of fire,
His lost tools may over-pay,
And better his desire.
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