Cease, head, from a teetotaller 's tale
And lap up wine of words to brimfull,
Soaking the skull with many a flagon
Of poetry, prose, play and review,

That the brain cells may bubble over like
Foam inside the tumbler of religion
And humanities, arts, science and tech.

Casting the old flame's gear
away,
garbing a new wear.

Few cartoon characters have suffered
like Tom . . . yet not dead.

Upon her faithful frame togs
Of beauty hangs;
Rosy robe, smelling myrrh.


All the go love is unambiguous--
Nought hid; clear
Like glass, soft like foulard.

Soul filled with gall, tears flow:
Crimson rushing on the snow.

Left home for office
Left home for somewhere
Left home for business
Only to appear elsewhere,

Where eternity steadies its swinging door.

Goodbye turns to abrupt good night,
Cold darkness replaces warm light.

Husband never returning more
Wife gone to another shore
Children laughs fade like leaves
Merry home in sorrow's sleeves.

Though evil men cannot ever cease;
In Jesus's hand commit our lives.

Difference between You
and me is:
You're firm, I'm fickle.

Though mine eyes do the beholding
In probing, scanning and reviewing:
Measuring quantity against quality;

And though the scales of mine eyes
Unsteady are, altering like weather,
As my sight's balances beauty rank
By the ratio of its carat to dross,
Which are counterpoising each other
Like Michael and Lucifer--the frank

And the false; yet put I the manipulation,
The entire enterprise of my intention

Upon my heart. For though these eyes
Fairness understand but are unwise
Still to fathom the depth of love
On those twain pans of duplicity.

The beckoning ***** to the heart
Must thus tilt the weight in reckoning
Affection that the lop-sided lips wooing
A gold precious of a great rate,
That bears the hallmark of a prized proof,
May win no bauble nor feigned fancy.