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Lawrence Hall, HSG

                For a Political Friend Who Politically Accused Me
            of Having My Apolitical Head in the Sand Politically

                     Our lives no longer feel ground under them

                           -Mandelstam, “The Stalin Epigram”

I have no illusions

I have no solutions

I have Mr. Biden and Mr. Trump

                    (And occasional basal cell carcinomas)

I can be silenced in fear

By their suicide sides

But I have a brain

                    (“…an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own.”)

And so to them

I am dangerous

If I am noticed at all
I think "The Stalin Epigram" speaks to most of us.
Filomena Jan 31
o tut de lun u zgiqbu
je dza sua *** kai zgilen tak te zon
i qdu qe xek nau tepzi tek o ***
je zuk bau *** nau zal po sli de ple
i sli bau *** xai daltep. i nefu lo sinpok
je plo qe txitup le za xak de zok.
i lan lo xilpok sondal xle de papkin gu
ke xel de lit pe sin je dzo le kai papkit
fi no vol fai dan pe xil. i nak lo lupko
pe qippli kai ben je sku le zgi fi zetfu
peu tu lot pe lia gelúp. i xek ne lutnik
sku de qak xik je xnukek le kai xta
i lutfu peu zanxo je pindal qe xne peu luttak
je sik le po zan do ple de notlen
vou nau zal do ple de pel. i lan lo vipnik
je xle le *** sai xel de txixo bon
i kul lia lot je bel lia xnu pe gul
i xel le sui kep ze skuxo bon qe sin
je slizuk le fi ti. i xen o liofu
e xalzen xle de nokfuk pap
i vit le so fo tul je xle le kin
je zni sai dal lia *** gexpá qe lal
za lia qla xal je lia takson dqi qe dal zoi
xen go zno e son pe sin je ***
go e pe zgitul kon. i nak to del
ke fin de skuxo xik qe xel de ske
i zno po sinpokfu je qdu do sua ke bon
i sak xto i sak lot i sak ska i sak zat
This is a Xextan translation of the "All the world's a stage" speech, from Shakespeare's "As You Like It"
Caosín Dec 2023
Wasn't it Shakespeare who said-
Shall I compare thee to a summers day?

And didn't the youth read that and think-
Lol, no. ***** gay asf pal. Get back to writing.
Crack poem! Don't take it seriously.
Jade Nov 2023
TW: Self-harm, suicide, drowning
Poor ophelia.

Silly ophelia.

Mad ophelia.

Too-Sensitive ophelia.

Crazy ophelia.

Curses-Too-Much ophelia.

Sad ophelia.

Mentally ill ophelia.

Naive ophelia.

Attention-Seeking ophelia.

Slit-Her-Wrists-In-The-Bathtub ophelia.

Melodramatic ophelia.

Bat-**** ophelia.

Baby-Girl ophelia.

Clingy ophelia.

Manic-Pixie-Dream-Girl ophelia.

Extreme ophelia.

Drunk ophelia.

Alcoholic ophelia.

Sloppy ophelia.

Bleeding ophelia.

Unrequited-Love ophelia.

Furious ophelia.

Warped ophelia.

Disobedient ophelia.

Fragile ophelia.

Unwilling-To-Get-Help ophelia.

***** ophelia.

Borderline ophelia.

Took-Too-Many-Benzos ophelia

****** ophelia.

Clumsy ophelia.

Severe ophelia.

**** ophelia.

Burden ophelia.

Obstinant 0phelia.

Selfish ophelia.

Hormonal ophelia.

Obsessive-Compulsive ophelia.

Bruised ophelia.

******* ophelia.

Horrid ophelia.

Useless ophelia.

Delusional ophelia.

Made it up ophelia

Cuckoo-For-Cuckoo-Puffs ophelia.

Broken ophelia.

Tempest ophelia.

Cringey ophelia.

Terrified ophelia.

******-***** ophelia.

No-One-Feels-Sorry-For-You ophelia.

Suicidal ophelia.

Traumatized ophelia.

Stop-Your-Crying ophelia.

CPTSD ophelia.

Suicidal ophelia.

Water-Logged ophelia.

Dead! Ophelia?


We never saw the signs, Ophelia.


Forgotten: Ophelia.


Semantic satiation


Your name has begun to sound like nonsense, Ophelia.
Mark Wanless Aug 2023
there is a mind
called shakespeare

there is a mind
called doughnut

ooooohhh doughnut
Anais Vionet May 2023
I watched King Charles’ coronation this morning.
I’m not British and some things confused me.
For instance, they kept saying “The new king.”
New? The guy’s a boomer - at least - right?

Apparently, he is, at once, the oldest king
ever and the newest king yet.

Can we talk about the old lady with the crown?
The wrinkled one on the right of him, in white,
the crypt keeper, with genuine platinum hair.
At first, I thought that it was Charles’ mother.

But apparently, the old Queen died.
Has anyone looked into that?
Anyone who’s read Shakespeare knows
how brutal royals can be and successions,
over time, have earned a sketchy reputation.

Anyway, I wish him well. I wouldn’t want to live a life
where everyone around me moves up a notch
if something sudden and nasty happened to me.
Wobster’s Dictionary, word of the day: Coronation: “when you put a target on someone’s back”

*Is it me, or is his family SO high school - why?

slang: ‘why’ = because I said so
Mark Wanless Apr 2023
the sun comes at night
the son is a holy fount
electric shakespeare
In death's dream kingdom
           These do not appear:


They're handing out maroon balloons
And saying they are free
But grasping children grip them fast
And the monks amidst them disagree
Dispassionately, but en masse
While they liberate the children
With obliterating oms.

A nearby Byron expiates
And mildly reiterates
The soporific broken ode
He bellows over holy oms
To the smitten women who approach
That "a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose"
Dispensing with disinterest
Crimson bliss amidst the women
Who ignore the sinful image he bestows.

He hands them out like red balloons
To grasping girls all afternoon
Imploring them to trust their nose
Insisting they are free
And so continues to propose
To the smitten women in the street
That "a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose"
As if the word could smell as sweet
As the perennials he grows.

And in the corner – Romeo
Who greenly mourning understands
The worth of poison in his hands
Imagining a life of night
Where roses wither without light
And only stars through windows break
Through all the countless nights of fate
and every breath's an endless wake...

Meanwhile Byron's distant yells
Prevail over the choral swell
And plant a seed in grasping ears:
Salvation can be engineered!
Which Romeo soon understands
As kissing death, he takes her hand
Thoughts germinating into schemes
If a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose
...then a dream is a dream is a dream.


A griffin, a hippogriff, and a wyvern
Admitting me and
Gripping crimson
Dripping strings
So none of them will fly away.

Inside, Cain is killing Abel  
(How few! yet how they creep)
killing Abel
(Through my fingers to the deep)
killing Abel
(While I weep — while I weep!)
killing Abel.
(O God! Can I not grasp)
It is the first story:
(Them with a tighter clasp?)
A samsara of carnage and drama.

Somewhere above
On a city street
Desire's handing out balloons
He clips their thorns
And trims them neat
He says they're free
And just as sweet
As the women he impugnes
He belies his guidance on repeat:
That love is the light is the sun is the moon.

A widower laments and moves the world
That has such people in it:
A snake, a guard, a god, a dog
A wife by no other name
A faltering of faith, a peek
A pillar of salt, a severed head
Adrift on a river

I'd transcend five hundred miles
And I'd transcend five hundred more
Just to be the man who transcends trials
Sprawled out on your floor

(Thy drugs are quick.)
Searching for a souvenir
To prove to you our world was here

Isaac, bound, blank and free
Bleating, looking for meaning
(All that we see or seem)
In his father's violent eye,
And finding it.
(Thus with a kiss I die.)
Abraham swings his knife.
A son is a sin is a ram is a rose.

A man pushes the sun up a large hill
Every day, and then it rolls down again
And then an eagle eats his liver.
(I am the resurrection and the life.)
One must imagine Prometheus happy
The alternative is dark

The moon, by any other name, would—
But do not swear by the moon!
For she changes constantly
(Then said Jesus unto them plainly:
Lazarus is dead.)

Everything changes
But nothing is truly lost.

(at times
the fact of her absence
will hit you like a blow to the chest
and you will weep.
but this will happen less and less
as time goes on.
she is dead.
you are alive.
so live.

A man pushes the sun up a large hill
A day is a year is a life is a death.

One must imagine Orpheus happy.


In dreams, the sun resumes her loving glow
I'm reunited with my silhouette
I glue myself with soap to my shadow
And find myself beside my Juliet

No longer a balloon without a hand
I'm rooted to the earth where she grips me
With purpose guiding us through life's demands
I push my boulders uphill happily

I build a world with Juliet my wife
Where roses are all roses and smell sweet
We live a loving happy magic life
Together til our journey is complete.

[Enter, at the other end of the churchyard,
FRIAR LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and *****.

In union Eve and Adam are redeemed,
Not in a rose but in a living dream.
Can a rose be just a rose?
Ubuntu says that a person cannot be just a person.
Romeo grieves for the light of his sun, Juliet,
and chooses to live a life with her in a dream
as the poison kills him.
Andy Chunn Jan 2023
What is this lodging and people strangeth
Yond walketh but never see
Looking as the screen doest changeth
Laughing with mirth and glee

And roaring beasts runneth up the roads
Like dragons with hurtling and smoke
Gigantic monsters with heavy loads
May runneth down honest folk

Just to returneth to calmer times
Would maketh mine own journey pleasant
I feeleth yond hither I'm out of rhymes
I'm nay more than a peasant

Taketh me back to times more sane
The fifteen nineties art for me
I cannot writeth, nor bethink, nor remain
In twenty twenty three
Poor Shakespeare may not have been the writer we know....if stuck in modern times.
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