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Hank Love Mar 2019
The ignorant secret to being silent, is when you come across someone who no longer desires to listen.
Hank Love Mar 2019
A kindred spirit in a dying hour
I have no time to dream
For fate
That fire of fire
Is not my theme!
Pleasant solace upon the mire
In a life of sand and sin
Through earthly power deprived within
Unravelled pride within a dream
Hank Love Mar 2019
Hear the cravened Raven
The story he so proudly tells!
Through the constant chime
And ringing of the Bells!

Onwards to the house of Usher
Through the Catacombs
And the lowly depths of Hell
What a mood of merriment 
This tale portells! 

Below the creaking floorboards
He so loudly yells
As we pry the planks one by one
"This, a story 
No mortal ever tells!"

The Heavens claim Helen 
And the enchanting Annabelle
Alone In the city by the Sea
He so miserably dwells!

^^^^ note I'm not quite finished with it yet. I'm sure most will need revising and editing and make it longer of some sort.
Hank Love Mar 2019
To the reader in a worthy note, now lying before me, alluding to an observation I made years ago, of the mechanism of English Literary culture. By the by, I cannot think, this precise form of allegory, though the reader himself acknowledges is not in accordance with originality, with which I hold precise and in tact. There are, however, some errors regarding the style and the art of literature, whereas constructing what makes a proper tale. Either literature, will provide a proper thesis-or the writer forces himself to work in accordance with the basis of his own justly narrative. Key points, in fact, as I know so well of, is first designing- generally to allow the reader to comprehend, yet not fully understand. Nevertheless a story is there not to understand, but only  to accept.
Hank Love Mar 2019
Because I know
Some-where in the Heavens above
The Saints will ponder
To come through terms of Love
Be no more radiant maiden there
Than by the name of Mother, Fair!
Therefore by the name
For years I have set aside and kept,
No ill mannered fate
Shall I accept!
Thy beauty is to me
As the many shores
Upon the perfumed sea!
By the name of Mother
No other shall endure
For no other
Besides fair mother
Holds a love I dare say pure!
Hank Love Mar 2019
To those Battling Bipolar, depression or anxiety, much as myself.


Doubtless you should
So easily forget!
We are that
What you cannot see!
How long shall life suffer you
Until you realize this!
We are the soft incantations
That which you place inside
The inner core of your mind!
Controlling your every thought
While you so soundly sleep!
We will change you.
You will not walk outside
For even during the daylight
We hold our shadow!
In you, we confide
Your every fear,
Towards that which you love most.
We are here, you see,
Tho we cannot so easily
Be summoned.
You have known us
Yet are afraid to call by name.
We, the soft voices
Daunting your every way of life.
The sole purpose
You may sleep in a well lit room.
We are your enemy
And when others have turned away,
We are the only friend you have.
We, are you.
Hank Love Mar 2019
Person 1: Fine day,

Wouldnt you say?


Person 2: Why yes I quite agree!


1: In the cold and barren winter

Through the late or early December 


2: And in July

The song of birds in the trees


1: Then you my friend 

Will agree with me then

It's always a pleasant day for tea?


2: Yes I'm quite fond of tea!


1: So I see! 

Between the years of yesterday 


2: and a thousand tomorrows 

To come this way 


1: there is only one today! 


2: Say how do you do

To those that you knew


1: Or adieu to those you may rue


2: We're getting off the topic

Wouldn't you say? 


1: Very well 

Well then

When life holds you bothered 

In the days of spring 


2: (Or in December)


1: Yes yes,  nevertheless you should always remember 


1&2: It is always a pleasant day for tea!
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