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Oh, come to me in dreams, my love!
   I will not ask a dearer bliss;
Come with the starry beams, my love,
   And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.

’Twas thus, as ancient fables tell,
   Love visited a Grecian maid,
Till she disturbed the sacred spell,
   And woke to find her hopes betrayed.

But gentle sleep shall veil my sight,
   And Psyche’s lamp shall darkling be,
When, in the visions of the night,
   Thou dost renew thy vows to me.

Then come to me in dreams, my love,
   I will not ask a dearer bliss;
Come with the starry beams, my love,
   And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.
my mundane life
is all too trivial
I am a child
I still live
in my parents house
the one my father built
with his words,
the one my mother
blew spirit into
with her macaronis
the one I sat
in my room
studying in
useless packs
of forgotten information
trying
to cry.
into new notebooks
and ukulele
filling bathtubs
opening windows
letting air
form an air
of beauty
in my ugly
homely
country
unloved country
every being here
utters poorly articulated words
of loath
to you
how do you stand
so strong
whilst staggering within
adversity?
would my life
be more
or less
mundane
if I were nabokov
living in russia
transcending and transmitting
beauty?
coated with cold
and cruelty
thats cruel for cruelty
and aesthetics sake,
rather than
heat
and rage
and silenced
misery.
There was a time when I was alone on the unsteady ground of life. I was too scared to stand; the shadows of life telling me that I'd fall if I tried.That fear was so over whelming it caused me to sink lower so that I could feel the comfort of the ground.
That's where you found me.You walked in confidently; so sure of your own balance. Then you looked my way and smiled. My heart stop of wonder and shock. Who was this that could stand so easily? You came and offered your hand. I took it and you helped me to my feet. Together you helped me steady myself.
I thought you a gift from heavan. But then as I leaned on you in this shaky world, you showed your true self. You let me get usteady smirking at me because I needed you and you knew it.Every timed this happened I gripped tighter to you. I didn't want to fall. Just when I thought I would; you'd steady me once again causing me to forget that is was you who had almost caused it.
You took me on your merry ride...
balanced, unstable, balanced....
Then one day with that smug grin, you let me fall and walked away.You didn't even look back. I was alone again, on my own in this unsure world. I didn't know what to do, but I knew one thing--
I wanted to stand again. I tried on my own despite the doubts telling me I couldn't.Slowly I got up. As I did I expected to fall, but I didn't. After all you put me through I actually learned to stand on my own. So instead of looking back and hating you; I look back thanking you because you helped me find my balance.
i lay here aching
waiting for your call
but deep inside
i know i must be the one
to break the silence
i always have been

you act like your fine
like it's under control
but i know your world
is crumbling
just like mine

it's never enough
your vision is blurred
i've shown you love
but your focus is elsewhere
while i sit wondering
you're out there forgetting

tell me why
you have no answer
your mind is forever lost
you want to run
so i help you fly
but suddenly
even i lose balance
i fall
and you let me
We used to say " I love you";
Now we just think it.
The people we became
are an odd fit.
I will admit
I am no longer pleasant
to be around.
Constant scowls and frowns
amidst the silence.
The clicks of keyboards
divide us.
Define us.
Align us.
We used be to analogous
like Bubble gum Princess
and Finn.
Just like them we've become unakin.
Padme & Anakin.
My fear of loosing you has caused me to loose you.
Like an episode of That's So Raven;
attempts at the prevention
of the future
ripped open the sutures
in my heart once again.
Been working full-time plus Saturdays and Sundays and going to school, finally finding time to write.
I use to write to relive myself, now I'm writing to remember.
© August 9th, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved.
After all that we’ve been through,

I thought we were okay again.

I thought that it was a change

for the better.

Night

after

Night

had come

and

I missed you

less

and

less.

Suspicions haunted me

dauntingly,

day

after

day.

and each time

I blocked them

they didn’t matter;

you didn’t matter.

I no longer craved

your embrace,

but you gave it

anyway.

I no longer needed you,

but you gave yourself

anyway.

Sunlight came,

and morning broke,

and you took it away.

You pretend

under false pretense,

and lie through

your teeth.

You clench them

and demand it’s me,

not you.

The truth is,

it’s always been

you.
1.

Is it a will o' the wisp, or is dawn breaking,
That our horizon wears so strange a hue?
Is it but one more dream, or are we waking
To find at last that dreams are coming true?

2.

Far off and faint, a golden line is streaking
The cloudy night that shrouds the life of man;
It is the sun that dim eyes have been seeking,
Through all blind pathways, since the world began.

3.

The sign to weary heart and waiting nation
That day will come to bring them their release
That, late or soon, through storm and tribulation,
Or with slow change, the earth shall rest in peace.

4.

That One, invoked, with half- despairing passion.
Through years and years of wrong, will right us then;
Will take away, in rude or gentle fashion,
The curse that man has laid on brother- men.

5.

Ah, blessed One! our souls go out to meet thee,
At whose feet Hope will fold her tired wing;
And yet we know not how we ought to greet thee,
And take the gifts thy bounteous arms will bring.

6.

Come not, O friend! with vengeful weapons, borrowed
Of them that warred against thee — sword and flame;
For all alike have suffered and have sorrowed,
And all alike have sinned against thy name.

7.

Come thou to men who groan in sore affliction
A breathing spirit of new life and grace;
Come in thy robes of light and benediction,
That all may recognize thy perfect face.

8.

Yet, as thou must, come soon, for them than need thee —
And thou wilt come — Deliverer great and strong!
Brighten, O tender dawn, though few may heed thee,
And bring the day that we have sought so long!

9.

No class strife then, each man against his neighbour,
No waste, no want, to breed the plague of crime;
No insolent pomp, no hard and sordid labour,
No wars, no famines, in that happier time!

10.

But pleasant homes, and good days growing better;
Contented hearts throughout the tranquil land,
That keep the law, in spirit and in letter,
Which we have been so dull to understand.

11.

And fruitful work, instead of barren duty,
With fruitful rest and leisure interweaved;
And life made bright with plenty and with beauty,
And souls made strong with noble aims achieved.

12.

Great Art, no more the plaything of the idle,
But nurse and handmaid to all human needs;
Great Nature, curbed no more with bit and bridle,
Nor men's religion crushed in bitter creeds.

13.

Nor sacred Love a crime, a jest, an error,
To keep or lose, to give or to suppress,
A secret shame, an anguish and a terror,
A curse to them that it was meant to bless.

14.

All round our narrow lives the tide encroaches,
Distant and dim, but spreading far and fast.
O Liberty, thy longed- for reign approaches
That is to give man's birthright back at last!
vasts;

15.

And must we go, who see the new age dawning,
While yet we suffer in the pangs of birth,
Nor breathe one breath of the divinest morning
That yet has come to bless our waiting earth?

16.

Oh, must we go, just when the day is growing?
Oh, must we waste with vast and vain desires,
Like sparks put out when viewless winds are blowing,
We, lit and quickened with supernal fires

17.

Are we to read no more the wondrous pages
Of this great tale that evermore goes on?
Will suns and stars light up eternal ages
With happier worlds — and we alone be gone?

18.

Never to learn the moral of the story —
Why we have toiled for what we must not keep,
Why we have fought to win no crown of glory,
Why we have sown what unborn hands will reap.

19.

Never to learn wherefore our Maker sent us
With these immortal passions in our breast.
Ah me! Ah me! Wherewith can we content us
To know so much, and not to know the rest!

— The End —