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vera Mar 2018
Perhaps in time, I will understand love,
How our separate bodies are to become one,
Perhaps in time, I will understand
How I never could love you,
While loving you.
Perhaps.
Perhaps.
"the women come and go talking of Michelangelo"- T.S Elliot
Danny Wolf Aug 2014
Darkness calls on us like the Siren's Song,
with the optimism of Candide, we charge on
because we know "things are exactly how they should be,"
But we're ignoring the fact that we cannot see!
We cannot be free!
No wonder Yossarian went so **** crazy,
trapped with no way out...
Like the old woman protecting her individuality in her burning house.
In this day and age,
Individuality burns out faster than paper in flames.
As fragile as Hamlet's mental state,
****, it's gone.
We're left as scared and self-conscious as J. Alfred Prufrock.
Questioning ourselves,
We don't dare disturb the universe.
Forced back by scrutinizing hands
through the shrunken entrances of our comfort zones,
Left torn and scarred
because they don't accept who we are.
I walk the halls with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,
Watch identity and clothing evaporate without concern.
Ignorant voices, the poison dripping into my ears.
I walk the halls a ghost.
They think I'm weird,
Maybe a few screws loose,
but I'll tell you what...
"Crazy" Orr is the one who escaped Catch-22.
Though I fear there is not an Odysseus within all of us,
I fear we are not prepared.
For when Darkness calls on us like the Siren's Song,
temptation is seldom overcome.

6/13/14
This began as one thing, and  unintentionally turned into a mash-up full of references from the main poems, books, and other excerpts we read in my AP English lit class this past year. It's references are to the following: Siren Song by Margaret Atwood, The Odyssey, Candide, Catch-22, Farenheit 451, Hamlet/Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, and The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. It ended up being one of the funnest and
most challengeing pieces I've written.
Jac Jun 2014
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window panes;         25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to ****** and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;         30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go         35
Talking of Michelangelo.
One of my favorite poems. I just wanted to post it somewhere, and hope maybe someone will read it the same way that I do.

— The End —