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I stayed on this famous island for a little while,
fortress, prison and avant-garde Bonaparte style.
Rigged charm with antiquities slow train,
governors constitution keeping royal patriots vain.
200 years after the mysterious death of the king,
at his grave, I was wondering, ‘You poor little thing’.
Another sort of great Alexander that loves to conquer,
taken on the establishments in crisis that ponder.
Ideals of restless doomed heroes celebrated,
taken war to higher constitution elevated.

St. Helena the wife of Emperor Constantine,
went on to pilgrimage to find the sacred terrain.
Building the church of the Holy Sepulchre,
the place of Christ crucifixions culture.
Priestess of Avalon and patron saint of discoveries,
island of sacred through Christ self recoveries.
Total sovereignty and its dying destiny,
luring fatal admirations penalty.
No escaping from repeating history.
fearfulpoet May 2020
among the millions who have never served, or wore uniform,
thought about it, was discouraged, and luck of the lottery,
the only one I’ve ever won, was #359 in the Vietnam draft,
cause my birthday was October X, and thus, stayed alive

yet, when, every time, hearing Henry V recite his battle speech,
copious weep that I was not there, for the deep need in my soul,
I too well ken, that I ne’er had the opportunity to become one of
a company, a band of brothers, this stripe, missing from my arm

would I have served if called? do not be absurd, the war was idiocy,
but that would not have prevented me from the chance, the luck,
to have been beside men, who would forevermore be mine, be my
very own band brothers...perhaps you think me mad, perverse,
not so, the bonds that formed such, gentle men for ever better...

“From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition
^ Pride in past valor may be best expressed in the St. Crispin’s Day speech from “Henry V” (Act IV, Scene iii), delivered by the young king on the eve of the Battle of Agincourt.

By William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

If we are mark’d to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,
And say ‘Tomorrow is Saint Crispian:’
Then he will strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names
Familiar in his mouth as household words:
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d,
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

Karijinbba Apr 2020
And that great love lingered
He at 22/23 -me at 18/19.
Beside me, on the left, appeared an angel in ****** form ruddy blonde
he smiled the smile I was smiling
our eyes moved scanningly about both sharing same soul.  
He was not tall neither short just like me and just perfect in manner and in form and very beautiful my twin flame soul,
a G* like heaven sent real man
a mad passionate lover was he
just like I was in his arms..

His face was so aflame that he appeared to be one of the highest rank archangels, one who seemed to be all on fire,
my ever ready honey bunny just like me by the mare sight of him;
He entered swiftly as if from a parallel reality to wriing my story down,
from a larger a beautiful world.
Mine was a small world in shambles.
My thoughts projected to his future
seeing another woman in his world
and I froze instead of fighting to earn
his love
he was really easy to win with just
the simple truth of my life the
spilling of my heart.
He was fantastic romanticaly covert.
In his hands I saw a great golden spear, and at the iron ruby tip there appeared to be a point of great fire.
This He plunged into my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails.
taking my breath away.

When he pulled it out I felt that he took them with it, and left me utterly consumed by the great love of such Adam's nature and the love of G.

The pain was so severe that it made me utter several moans never felt before.
The sweetness caused by this intense pain was so extreme that one cannot possibly wish it to cease, nor is one's soul content with anything but G
loving transforming passion expressed through such a man.
His kissing breath gave me life.
I was all his, body heart Spirit soul all.
This was not only physical but a spiritual pain, though the body had some share in it, even a considerable share
a lovely ingering exstasy.
Saint Teresa describes an intensely spiritual encounter in physical, even ****** terms like I did with my lover Why me and why St Teresa?
Both St Teresa and I deeply loved
and our ****** lingered.

We know that an important goal of Baroque art is to involve the viewer.  
Teresa explained her vision in this way to help to understand her extraordinary lyngering experience
just like my excstasy lingered
for both
I fell in love with one angel man
and with G* who sent him to me.
After all, being visited by an Archangel and filled with the love of G
* is no common event but it happens
as it did to me too.

Today what else to feel?
when I experienced such beautiful heavenly love in a man's arms?
who else but G* can fill that space?
I have the love and protection of G.
His Archangel did kiss me!.

I believe what is given to us that's valuable and good is more than just a blessing it is because others sacrificed their all unselfishly for our benefit.

Some people threaten lie cheat and steal to keep selfishly what they want from others for themselves enough is never enough for them, they want it all.
(this isn't me.)
is that love? Is that a blessing?

Some of us let go of loaded good ships trains castles even
because they aren't within our reach
to enjoy simply as that.

Even though, our loved ones have moved on they still have a space in us that rightfully lingers on forever.

I accepted all that heaven sent,
good along with tough through my free will or unwilling terrible decisions affecting me and everyone else.
By: Karijinbba/ Copy rights.
Inspired by St Teresa Sànchez
who had my last name she loved G

like I loved my twin soul and G
(Angelina San-Gutier)
04/16/5. Michoacan a native perupecha tribe
(A Mestiza mix- French-&Irish.)
JacquelineCalla May 2019
Nun kenne ich dich,
die andere Seite von dir.
Doch ich steh noch dort drüben,
Weit weg, weit weg von dir,
Und mir.

Du drehst dich fort,
Um, ohne zurück zu sehen.
denn du wirst nichts, gar nichts vermissen,
Verfehlen, ich fehle dir nicht,
Weiter gehen. Nach vorne,
immerzu, weiter gehen.

Nur du und Ich,
Daraus wird wohl nie was,
das muss ich jetzt glauben, denken
denken, denken nur nicht fühlen
Nur was?

Was soll ich fühlen?

Leere, Stille oder nur dich

So wie es jetzt ist, ist es dasselbe,
Das Gleiche, oder auch nicht.

Wer weiss das schon.
Jeder, jeder, nur nicht ich.

So wie es scheint.
Ron Conway Mar 2019
The brook-side meadow's quiet, shadows gone
Overwhelming green struck in private hues
The stream bank channels and tree roots confuse
The light is magic dancing after dawn
There in the tangle hides the leprechaun
There in the tangle his mischief is planned
Scratching his bearded chin, pipe in his hand
Prides in his trickery, crusty old con
Harassed and hunted by unthoughtful souls
Not any wonder he's social inept
He is pursued for the gold he controls
But they do not know it's not physically kept
Pursuit of the rainbow earth not apart
The leprechaun's gold is found in your heart
Bowedbranches Jan 2019
Im a vague ****
Made bankrupt
Able to lay claim
To anything I touch

Pull my people like puppets
Til they need Me
Leaving is strange
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