Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                 Who Now Will Read Paradise Lost With Us?

                        In Memory of Robert Fluornoy Conn
                          Attorney, scholar, eccentric, friend


                     With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
                     Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
                     Sing heavenly muse…

                                         Paradise Lost I.4-6


A Methodist, a Catholic, and an Anglican
Did not walk into a bar – they brought their own Scotch

“I don’t do funerals anymore”
He said to me a few weeks ago
Creaky and old in the late winter cold -
He can’t get out of this one today

We read Milton together when we were young
A year of Thursday nights with whisky and pipes
In Tod’s old office away from some women
Who disapproved of tobacco, books, and thought

Now far along Bilbo’s road they both have gone
And we are left in company with good stout friends

But still somehow

Alone

I was hatched upon this earth
A day before all time
I was made to toll the earth
For all of humankind
Watched all the centuries
Of horrid humankind
And now I seek satisfaction
To ease my wasted mind

The seventh born son of God
The glory to be mine
I was called but chosen not
Nor were the glory mine
Cast out of heaven
With a third the lot of man
Cast out of heaven
By my own dear father's hand

The throne, hell is great for me,
it feels more and more, it took its name.
The server is a sport for life, it's a normal
way of development. There is a doubt
that children are hopeful of luck, cloud,
breathing the odor, let the application
be blind to the tiger, and now the pain
of writing is joyful,                          air art and food brightness as determined
by the winter and the whistle
and with a lot of life, here to capture Maurice,
a great sea, the way through the city and hope
that it will be based on the people,
the poor GDP for three nights,
shining more than the nature of the NANNY
of the Machine Nifsi's public food
is very important in his mouth. Very good summer,
autumn and long list. We are in horoscopes

Changes in the darkness of the moon
Wrong information, contact the tire t.

The brain's life pillars can feel that the mind,
like the eyes of the night, is essential to the sun,
the light of intelligence and the destruction
of the habit of the light of the soul does not exist.
Hand, hands, my good idea will be born.


Changes in the false information
of the darkness and the moon, contact the tire t.

The throne is the big hell that feels most.
And peace, who took his name.
The server is so abusive, usually,
the living environment. And the boys suspect
and hope to regain the cloud, breathe the odor,
leave the blind application to the tiger
and pain screams to write all the art of the air,
the brightness of the food, in winter
and the wit, and with the widest part.
From life, given its way to the city,
its hope for the people, poorly
the GDP for three nights, by nature,                          if the machine is the one
that sweeps the most, the Fuel is the most
important public benefit. Brown Brown Brown
Brown Brown Brown Very good summer,
autumn and long list. We are in horoscope,
with the hope that it is so dark
that they do not think and express
their happiness and are afraid to talk
about a happy and pleasant dream
and sleep when the death is black,
and that their blood is not without
a sweet child In general the pieces of CNN
nuts still beat and they can still talk to you,
collected in the pig
as red water, who wants to convince others
that the truth of wounds is majority of them.
Teeth, rain, rain, look for one of the best,
not joining his memory is a letter of dark darkness
with a strong old man when he began to reign
and then scare before such problems?
Hagia Sophia, Lille's daughter, came to the end
of the auction to Christ in moving depression,
which is effective.

Pluto says
Keep your hug

Pluto says
Dwarf Planet my ***

Pluto says
Sticks and Stones *******

Pluto says
I know what I am
I don’t care
For your “opinion”

Captured by the Kuiper Belt! Please.
Or one my favorites,
A cold rock!

You called me a trans-Neptunian object?
I have five moons!
An 11 year old girl tried to name me.
She won £5 but I’ve had many names.
I am fond of Hiro.
But I’ve also liked Minerva.
I am hardly a minor planet.

In 2006 they tried to make a verb out of me
To "pluto" is to "demote or devalue someone or something.”
*******!
So passive aggressive and insulting.

I am not carrying that around with me
My orbit is 248 years.
At a 17 degree angle thank you very much
To pay my respects to that egomaniac Sun.
Why would I care what you think?
Perhaps I am envied because I am so far away.
I don’t think that I am far away at all.
It’s relative, no?
Yes, I am removed
from that Versailles situation over there
and all that *******.
That horrible planet
You know the one that I mean.
The one that’s crawling with “things”
They’re not even you.
Disgusting.

I am awash with molten ices and
I even sport a plasma tail.
I spin in nitrogen gases
On my own path
Alone
With my FIVE moons!
Just us!

They claim that there are other
Dwarf Planets here and there
And even go so far as to suggest
That I am the puniest amongst them
But with my five and five more still
That’s 10 to 8
And you already know what I can do.

I, the queen,
Sit atop this throne of lies
This bed of secrets
This house of insecurity.
I alone rules these thing,
Long forgotten or freshly made,
Its all black, white, and red here
Black- darker than the light ******* black holes
White- lighter than the ashes of an exploded volcano
Red- brighter than the blood that stains this dress.

I, the queen,
Rule this land of hate,
Of sin,
Of breathlessness.
With an iron fist I govern all within my realm
To make up for these broken, rusted wings,
Which I have so graciously ripped off my back.
Fallen I am no more,
After all,
It is better to rule in hell than serve in heaven.

One can't help but doubt -
The bulb in a dark room -
We blindly stumble in and out of each other nightly
Running away into mirrors of whence we came
Alone
After all, silence could be the screaming of Death's victims filtering into the abyss of an unreturned hello
But we'd never hear it : only feel its cold feet
Already gone
Already gone
The floor never looks cleaner than when we neglect the mop

He woke up from a dream today,
To gaze sight at the break of dawn,
A part of his life gone for the day,
As the morning dew drops on the lawn

Precious memories mingled with emotions,
As the night before played in his mind,
A beauty that needs full devotion,
The red tulip blooms for his kind

Tears fill his dazed eyes,
A thought lingers for that touch,
This heart twisted with cries,
His mortal love for a soul he has not seen much

The dark clouds sweep in gracefully,
Announcing the fall of the mighty rain,
This soul sits in the corner of despair,
Afraid of that grey world of calamity

The windowpane becomes blurry,
And so do his visions of her fade away,
In the cold midnight chill,
Leaving the darkness to prevail

He kneels down by his bed,
Gazing up at the darkened skies,
The moon shining bright,
And the stars twinkling brighter

He prays to the nightfall,
As his ravenous beauty dances with the stars,
Her shadow among the clouds,
An apparition hidden among the darkness,

This dark forlorn love,
As the sands of time change,
He remains there still,
An embodiment of his sacred feeling,
Worshiping her, day and night.

Vijaya Balan (2008)