I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

Gored,
Broken,
Bleeding Hand
Reaches forward,
Beckons from Chaos,
And grasps fragile fingers
Whose twins loosely hold Order
With a stagnant, reluctant grip
That is released to find strange beauty
Of the sort unknown by those who fear death.

Nothing is more put together
It's set up perfect and completely organized
Its not a book, nor one of
humans many establishments

Its a single piece of paper
and the ink on it reads
the Periodic Table of the Elements

Pavlov

You rang a bell

and fed him food

until you could ring a bell

and make him drool

but did you

ever really

love

man’s best friend?

I was young
and you gave me words
and thoughts
and entertaining plots.
I spent so much time
looking at the way you write
and looking at the way you phrase
and wishing I could do the same.

Now I have my own phrases
and plots
and thoughts.
All because you planted want.