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As an unperfect actor on the stage
Who with his fear is put beside his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart,
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love’s rite,
And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,
O’ercharged with burden of mine own love’s might.
O, let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love, and look for recompense
More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
    O, learn to read what silent love hath writ,
    To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.
My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear;
That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming
The owner’s tongue doth publish everywhere.
Our love was new, and then but in the spring
When I was wont to greet it with my lays,
As Philomel in summer’s front doth sing,
And stops her pipe in growth of riper days—
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
    Therefore like her I sometime hold my tongue,
    Because I would not dull you with my song.
sickophantic Jan 2019
how unlike stars we are!

they have been there
for longer than the soil
under your feet can remember.
their timid flicker constant before our eyes,
an eternal pattern drawn on the dark skies.
while we, ephemeral beings, are born and die,
stars, forever above, watch, wise.

and yet, as the night falls,
as those stars seemingly shine
in perfect and close union,
in truth, they are most scattered
across the infinite Space.
while some, as far as can be,
are woven into mystical fabric
on the frontiers of the Universe
others are just within
a single galaxy's reach
(oh, to stretch my arms above
and touch a star's warm fingers!)

so when we lay our small heads
on the pliant grass
and turn our eyes up to the night sky;
when we see constellations made from those
eternal diamonds of light,
in truthful honesty,
we see a lie.
for stars are, for what it counts,
entirely alone.

(perhaps we are not so unlike stars, after all.)
sickophantic Dec 2018
listen to me! we heard him cry,
a blur against the steel-blue Dusk.
but no one would take any warnings
against what we had learned to trust.

the gentle lies we tell ourselves!
lest we endure the stab of truth.
now they were naught but strangled ashes
which had once worn the mask of hope.

from the warm fire of our people
drops of wax flowed down, like tears
and they asked me: "why do you cry?"
"well", i answered,
with my hands blue, and my eyes wide,
"i've held on to the truth for too long now."
and there was no escaping Time.
a "found poem" i wrote in english class about the book "night", by elie wiesel
  Oct 2018 sickophantic
Martina
You're far away.

Or maybe I am
talking is hard
because we can't find the time
but I want you to stay
a parto fo my life.

We'll do out best
to stay as close friends
we'll try our hardest
to fight the distance
to suvive this.

And when we do
we'll know blessings exist
and that our connestion
and love
will pesist.
sickophantic Oct 2018
i'm from a small, yellow bedroom
yellow flowers, yellow layette
and yellow jaundiced skin  
i'm from the taste of the tea mother makes me when i'm sick
and from the sound of her singing
about how she looked and looked for the light
like the roots and the leaves floating in the boiling water
her voice a soothing sound
like bubbles in simmering tea

i'm from words written on a page-
the feeling of an old book and the smell of a new one
and i'm from hiding beneath the covers
falling in love with black letters printed on white paper
i'm from lots of illustrations and then none at all
when my mind became colorful enough to fill all the pages
i'm from "the game is afoot"
and "after all this time?"

i'm from all over the world
pieces of my heart, a jigsaw puzzle
like my family scattered all over the globe
i'm from canada, from the US, from france from lebanon from italy
i'm from a country nobody wants
but a country that desperately wants us back

i'm from messy hair, oversized sweaters
half-finished sketchbooks filled with promises
and ******* poetry lines
i'm from the echo of my own voice
against the splatter of the shower
i'm from reading in the flashes of street lamp lights
i'm from pursuing science and desiring art
drawing on the airplane's foggy windows
and wondering how it flies
with a clear head and with clouded eyes.
sickophantic Oct 2018
Ladies and gentleman!
Welcome aboard Life Air flight 493.
We are sorry for the delay - of 9 months - in our departure,
but believe me,
it's better in here
than in the outside.

Ladies and gentleman!
There is no safety instruction card in the pocket of the seat in front of you.
There are no guidelines, no rules, no help.
Life is chaos and it is cosmos;
Not black and white, but a blurry grayscale
No x and y axis values you can plot and predict
Just a weird steering wheel
and a lot of dubious buttons.
(it’s not as easy as it seems in action movies!)
For life does not come with a manual.

Ladies and gentleman!
In case of emergency, oxygen masks will drop down in front of you.
If you are traveling with someone, please attend yourself first.
Sometimes, you'll find people who you think are
more worth saving than you are
but breathe.
let the air fill your lungs, overflow.
until it reaches them.
You can't help others when you're drowning.
You can't lean on others when they're also on the water.
You can't love others when you don't love yourself.
Because when you take your last breath
you'll remember
you never got your own life jacket.

Ladies and gentleman!
Keep the shades on your windows lifted at all times.
Even though you are scared of what's outside,
pull up your shades.
Look at the funny-shaped clouds
and the passing cities below you,
Take close attention to all the tiny cars and tiny people
and the dollhouse sized problems.
because we will not be turning back.
Open your windows.
You will see tragedy and hurt and war.
Broken hearts that may or may not belong to you,
broken souls that you can not always cradle in your arms.
Oceans of blood, bright scarlet
contrasting against the otherwise beautiful seashores.

Ladies and gentlemen:
We will be taking off shortly. Please make sure that your seat belt is securely fastened. Thank you.
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