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 May 2020 ollie
Walt Whitman
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
 Apr 2020 ollie
DG
if it all goes wrong
we can all move to Saturn
sure, it’s a gas giant,
so if that goes wrong
we can move to
Titan and Enceladus.

no angst, no despair,
no existential fear and
most importantly, no Karens.
maybe there are undiscovered
frozen glaciers of oreo milkshakes
out there in the universe.

there are no dead ends,
no places you don’t belong in,
no absence of a friend.
do not be scared of growing up,
there are infinite years to spend,
just 16 candles, in a universe so vast.

good books, moments, coffee blends,
conan gray songs, minecraft and games.
time is in your hands, clocks don’t melt.
oll is well that ends well,
we can all always move to Saturn,
the universe belongs to you, my friend.
happy birthday, ollie
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