i see the flyer at starbucks

"are you caucasian?
without mental health
and drug problems?"

wow
i don’t know the answer to any of these questions
is a jew a caucasian?
is the occasional naked, ****-slamming drunken rampage
a drug problem?
as for mental health
i’m a deadbeat poet and unpopular pop musician
i’ve got a job fighting death and boredom
and i just changed my facebook password to "eat ****"
my frustrations have driven weaker souls to homicide
but are these PROBLEMS?

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  to is what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

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.”

465

I heard a Fly buzz—when I died—
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air—
Between the Heaves of Storm—

The Eyes around—had wrung them dry—
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset—when the King
Be witnessed—in the Room—

I willed my Keepsakes—Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable—and then it was
There interposed a Fly—

With Blue—uncertain stumbling Buzz—
Between the light—and me—
And then the Windows failed—and then
I could not see to see—

288

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you—Nobody—Too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you know!

How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one’s name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!

The rimer quenches his unheeded fires,
The sound surceases and the sense expires.
Then the domestic dog, to east and west,
Expounds the passions burning in his breast.
The rising moon o'er that enchanted land
Pauses to hear and yearns to understand.

When, to their airy hall, my Fathers’ voice
Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice;
When, pois’d upon the gale, my form shall ride,
Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain’s side;
Oh! may my shade behold no sculptur’d urns,
To mark the spot where earth to earth returns!
No lengthen’d scroll, no praise-encumber’d stone;
My epitaph shall be my name alone:
If that with honour fail to crown my clay,
Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay!
That, only that, shall single out the spot;
By that remember’d, or with that forgot.

O lachrymarum fons, tenero sacros
  Ducentium ortus ex animo; quater
    Felix! in imo qui scatentem
      Pectore te, pia Nympha, sensit.

               GRAY, ‘Alcaic Fragment’.

   When Friendship or Love
   Our sympathies move;
When Truth, in a glance, should appear,
   The lips may beguile,
   With a dimple or smile,
But the test of affection’s a Tear.

   Too oft is a smile
   But the hypocrite’s wile,
To mask detestation, or fear;
   Give me the soft sigh,
   Whilst the soul-telling eye
Is dimm’d, for a time, with a Tear.

   Mild Charity’s glow,
   To us mortals below,
Shows the soul from barbarity clear;
   Compassion will melt,
   Where this virtue is felt,
And its dew is diffused in a Tear.

   The man, doom’d to sail
   With the blast of the gale,
Through billows Atlantic to steer,
   As he bends o’er the wave
   Which may soon be his grave,
The green sparkles bright with a Tear.

   The Soldier braves death
   For a fanciful wreath
In Glory’s romantic career;
   But he raises the foe
   When in battle laid low,
And bathes every wound with a Tear.

   If, with high-bounding pride,
   He return to his bride!
Renouncing the gore-crimson’d spear;
   All his toils are repaid
   When, embracing the maid,
From her eyelid he kisses the Tear.

   Sweet scene of my youth!
   Seat of Friendship and Truth,
Where Love chas’d each fast-fleeting year;
   Loth to leave thee, I mourn’d,
   For a last look I turn’d,
But thy spire was scarce seen through a Tear.

   Though my vows I can pour,
   To my Mary no more,
My Mary, to Love once so dear,
  In the shade of her bow’r,
  I remember the hour,
She rewarded those vows with a Tear.

   By another possest,
   May she live ever blest!
Her name still my heart must revere:
   With a sigh I resign,
   What I once thought was mine,
And forgive her deceit with a Tear.

   Ye friends of my heart,
   Ere from you I depart,
This hope to my breast is most near:
   If again we shall meet,
   In this rural retreat,
May we meet, as we part, with a Tear.

   When my soul wings her flight
   To the regions of night,
And my corse shall recline on its bier;
  As ye pass by the tomb,
  Where my ashes consume,
Oh! moisten their dust with a Tear.

  May no marble bestow
  The splendour of woe,
Which the children of Vanity rear;
  No fiction of fame
  Shall blazon my name,
All I ask, all I wish, is a Tear.