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_In death's dream kingdom            These do not appear:_                      I They're handing out maroon balloons And saying they are free But grasping children grip them fast And the monks amidst them disagree Dispassionately, but en masse While they liberate the children With obliterating oms. A nearby Byron expiates And mildly reiterates The soporific broken ode He bellows over holy oms To the smitten women who approach That "a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose" Dispensing with disinterest Crimson bliss amidst the women Who ignore the sinful image he bestows. He hands them out like red balloons To grasping girls all afternoon Imploring them to trust their nose Insisting they are free And so continues to propose To the smitten women in the street That "a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose" As if the word could smell as sweet As the perennials he grows. And in the corner – Romeo Who greenly mourning understands The worth of poison in his hands Imagining a life of night Where roses wither without light And only stars through windows break Through all the countless nights of fate and every breath's an endless wake... Meanwhile Byron's distant yells Prevail over the choral swell And plant a seed in grasping ears: Salvation can be engineered! Which Romeo soon understands As kissing death, he takes her hand Thoughts germinating into schemes If a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose ...then a dream is a dream is a dream.                      II A griffin, a hippogriff, and a wyvern Admitting me and Gripping crimson Dripping strings So none of them will fly away. Inside, Cain is killing Abel   _(How few! yet how they creep)_ killing Abel _(Through my fingers to the deep)_ killing Abel _(While I weep — while I weep!)_ killing Abel. _(O God! Can I not grasp)_ It is the first story: _(Them with a tighter clasp?)_ A samsara of carnage and drama. Somewhere above On a city street Desire's handing out balloons He clips their thorns And trims them neat He says they're free And just as sweet As the women he impugnes He belies his guidance on repeat: That love is the light is the sun is the moon. A widower laments and moves the world That has such people in it: A snake, a guard, a god, a dog A wife by no other name A faltering of faith, a peek A pillar of salt, a severed head Adrift on a river Singing: _I'd transcend five hundred miles And I'd transcend five hundred more Just to be the man who transcends trials Sprawled out on your floor_ (Thy drugs are quick.) _Searching for a souvenir To prove to you our world was here_ Isaac, bound, blank and free Bleating, looking for meaning _(All that we see or seem)_ In his father's violent eye, And finding it. _(Thus with a kiss I die.)_ Abraham swings his knife. A son is a sin is a ram is a rose. A man pushes the sun up a large hill (_LET THERE BE LIGHT_) Every day, and then it rolls down again And then an eagle eats his liver. _(I am the resurrection and the life.)_ One must imagine Prometheus happy The alternative is dark The moon, by any other name, would— But do not swear by the moon! For she changes constantly _(Then said Jesus unto them plainly: Lazarus is dead.)_ Everything changes But nothing is truly lost. (_at times the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest and you will weep. but this will happen less and less as time goes on. she is dead. you are alive. so live._) A man pushes the sun up a large hill A day is a year is a life is a death. One must imagine Orpheus happy.                      III In dreams, the sun resumes her loving glow I'm reunited with my silhouette I glue myself with soap to my shadow And find myself beside my Juliet No longer a balloon without a hand I'm rooted to the earth where she grips me With purpose guiding us through life's demands I push my boulders uphill happily I build a world with Juliet my wife Where roses are all roses and smell sweet We live a loving happy magic life Together til our journey is complete. [_Enter, at the other end of the churchyard, FRIAR LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and ***** In union Eve and Adam are redeemed, Not in a rose but in a living dream.
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Apr 2, 2023
Apr 2, 2023 at 5:21 PM UTC
A Complementary Rose
_In death's dream kingdom            These do not appear:_                      I They're handing out maroon balloons And saying they are free But grasping children grip them fast And the monks amidst them disagree Dispassionately, but en masse While they liberate the children With obliterating oms. A nearby Byron expiates And mildly reiterates The soporific broken ode He bellows over holy oms To the smitten women who approach That "a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose" Dispensing with disinterest Crimson bliss amidst the women Who ignore the sinful image he bestows. He hands them out like red balloons To grasping girls all afternoon Imploring them to trust their nose Insisting they are free And so continues to propose To the smitten women in the street That "a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose" As if the word could smell as sweet As the perennials he grows. And in the corner – Romeo Who greenly mourning understands The worth of poison in his hands Imagining a life of night Where roses wither without light And only stars through windows break Through all the countless nights of fate and every breath's an endless wake... Meanwhile Byron's distant yells Prevail over the choral swell And plant a seed in grasping ears: Salvation can be engineered! Which Romeo soon understands As kissing death, he takes her hand Thoughts germinating into schemes If a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose ...then a dream is a dream is a dream.                      II A griffin, a hippogriff, and a wyvern Admitting me and Gripping crimson Dripping strings So none of them will fly away. Inside, Cain is killing Abel   _(How few! yet how they creep)_ killing Abel _(Through my fingers to the deep)_ killing Abel _(While I weep — while I weep!)_ killing Abel. _(O God! Can I not grasp)_ It is the first story: _(Them with a tighter clasp?)_ A samsara of carnage and drama. Somewhere above On a city street Desire's handing out balloons He clips their thorns And trims them neat He says they're free And just as sweet As the women he impugnes He belies his guidance on repeat: That love is the light is the sun is the moon. A widower laments and moves the world That has such people in it: A snake, a guard, a god, a dog A wife by no other name A faltering of faith, a peek A pillar of salt, a severed head Adrift on a river Singing: _I'd transcend five hundred miles And I'd transcend five hundred more Just to be the man who transcends trials Sprawled out on your floor_ (Thy drugs are quick.) _Searching for a souvenir To prove to you our world was here_ Isaac, bound, blank and free Bleating, looking for meaning _(All that we see or seem)_ In his father's violent eye, And finding it. _(Thus with a kiss I die.)_ Abraham swings his knife. A son is a sin is a ram is a rose. A man pushes the sun up a large hill (_LET THERE BE LIGHT_) Every day, and then it rolls down again And then an eagle eats his liver. _(I am the resurrection and the life.)_ One must imagine Prometheus happy The alternative is dark The moon, by any other name, would— But do not swear by the moon! For she changes constantly _(Then said Jesus unto them plainly: Lazarus is dead.)_ Everything changes But nothing is truly lost. (_at times the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest and you will weep. but this will happen less and less as time goes on. she is dead. you are alive. so live._) A man pushes the sun up a large hill A day is a year is a life is a death. One must imagine Orpheus happy.                      III In dreams, the sun resumes her loving glow I'm reunited with my silhouette I glue myself with soap to my shadow And find myself beside my Juliet No longer a balloon without a hand I'm rooted to the earth where she grips me With purpose guiding us through life's demands I push my boulders uphill happily I build a world with Juliet my wife Where roses are all roses and smell sweet We live a loving happy magic life Together til our journey is complete. [_Enter, at the other end of the churchyard, FRIAR LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and ***** In union Eve and Adam are redeemed, Not in a rose but in a living dream.
Can a rose be just a rose? Ubuntu says that a person cannot be just a person. Romeo grieves for the light of his sun, Juliet, and chooses to live a life with her in a dream as the poison kills him.
the-knave-of-spades
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Apr 2, 2023
Apr 2, 2023 at 5:21 PM UTC
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