Mistah Kurtz—he dead.

      A penny for the Old Guy

      I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

      II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer—

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

      III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

      IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We ***** together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

      V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
                                For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
                                Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
                                For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

Spires reach so high, into the sky
      putting roots so low, into the I
Bells sound so calm, from way afar
      soothing riot heart, from age old scar
Glass stained in blood, to flame my eyes
      causing pain to leave, to sounds of sighs

Clang!

Chisel on rock,
Axe on jewel
Men of stock
***** as mule

Bang!

Blast of fire
Smoke no wall
Cracks that spire
Down they fall!

Sang!**

All their life
Miner n' son
Toil and strife
Till day done

Awake, awake,
You give what you take.
Reading, churning, questing
One step to death' sting.

Saunter, saunter,
Mind slips and wanders.
Beauty, goodness, truth
Gambling away my youth.

Sing, sing,
Strange thoughts you bring.
Spirit, Wisdom, Fire
Teased, unsated desire.

Feeling, feeling,
The One ever revealing.
Tension, strife, reward,
Revelation acting as sword.

Sleep, sleep,
Wondrous things do creep.
Growing, slowing, showing,
Hidden things a'glowing.

Captains are given their ship
A ship not to be tamed, but to be tested
Frail though the ship maybe
The vessel is meant to wander the sea

I write about the stars and the sky,
And watch as the comets say goodbye,
Will I ever see them again, probably not,
But into dreamland they shall be caught,

When into the heavens my eyes wander,
My mind slips and begins to saunter,
The inner pool, which storms and rages,
Becomes like a book’s gently turning pages,

Oh, the lights, how they see my bare mind,
So scared, what will the clever things find?
The fears, the hopes, the clashing tempers?
Or a grey, icy day of Novembers’

No, they shall find out my inner thoughts,
The ones that I have since forever fought,
The temptations, and paradoxes that are in me,
It is impossible to name what they may be:

So frustrated, yet seeming so calm,
So passionate, and yet withdrawn,
So strong, yet arguments so weak,
So in love, yet appearing so bleak,

I wonder, if they actually know,
Those stars, do they see through my show?
But there they go, saluting their farewell,
With my secrets, none they shall tell.