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 Dec 2014 Unnamed
WickedHope
Rope
 Dec 2014 Unnamed
WickedHope
I
h
a
v
e
f
e
e
l
i
n
g
s
that
form
thou
ghts,
that
form
words,
that          form
sente            ­     nces,
that                       form
rope,                         which
ties                               itself
into a                            noose.
Your                         ­     words
are also                    a rope,
that saves me from
drowning.
Sorry if you can't read it.
Kinda.
 Dec 2014 Unnamed
Arphra Behn
Song
 Dec 2014 Unnamed
Arphra Behn
Oh love! that stronger art than Wine,
Pleasing Delusion, Witchery divine,
Wont to be priz'd above all Wealth,
Disease that has more Joys than Health;
Though we blaspheme thee in our Pain,
And of Tyranny complain,
We are all better'd by thy Reign.

What Reason never can bestow,
We to this useful Passion owe:
Love wakes the dull from sluggish ease,
And learns a Clown the Art to please:
Humbles the Vain, kindles the Cold,
Makes Misers free, and Cowards bold;
And teaches airy Fops to think.

When full brute Appetite is fed,
And choakd the Glutton lies and dead;
Thou new Spirits dost dispense,
And fine'st the gross Delights of Sense.

Virtue's unconquerable Aid
That against Nature can persuade;
And makes a roving Mind retire
Within the Bounds of just Desire.
Chearer of Age, Youth's kind Unrest,
And half the Heaven of the blest!
We breathe in green oxygen
as earth swallows poison
And the cycle begins again
Formed from of clay
Breathed into one day
Transmutation of dirt and freewill
So take a breath, breathe
We do until death
And then sigh for relief
or gasp for whats left
Dirt. That can change the world. BEAUTIFULLY FEARFULLY WONDERFULLY MADE.
We jump through the hoops
looping the loops and scoop the big prize.
We thread lies through the eyes of needles and
stitch falsehoods on silk,sour milk for mankind.
We sell futures as if there's a future to sell and the hell that we're left with is all that's left to give and who gives a ****?
The fisherman did as he bid nets to cast, knowing full well that still waters held fast to a feast,
at least that's the story we're told.

The bold and the brave will become the old and a slave of the young and the new and then what will they do with the future they sold? will they
try to hold onto it as they flit through the hell that they made? swapping silk for brocade is a poor mans solution,the problem that's posed is, suppose it was you in the spotlights,cramped in the headlamps and nowhere to go,when the wolves are bearing down on you what do you do,when a smile doesn't cut it and you're told to just shut it,so do you swallow your words,choke on your tongues?

Conundrums,
is this existence
have we designed a new plague, is this the eleventh pestilence to rain down on us,is this the future we wait for,the last bus to Hades?

Ladies and Gentlemen there was a time when,
when the forests were glades and we were just 'babes in the wood' and the future looked good but we turned away from all that,learnt the world wasn't flat and what goes around comes round,we poisoned the earth,the very ground that we walk on and yet we still talk on and on as if it hasn't all gone and will come round once again,but you don't need a sermon from me,you already know
that's why the family silver's been sold,that's why we're old before our notes fall due,that's why the new have it all.
The fall of man will come not with a bang but a signature on a mortgage foreclosure and at the end of it when we've bent all we can and are as twisted as only a man can be,freed from all doubt in a boat somewhere out on the sea,
we'll cast nets and catch fishes for tea.
 May 2014 Unnamed
Austine
for you
 May 2014 Unnamed
Austine
he knows his way with words
he manages to take me to places
with every conception of sentences he makes

i stay seated on my place
consummately delighting in his utterance
and unknowingly,
i am transferred to somewhere else,
wandering and savoring the destination

no matter how gloomy the day is,
he knows exactly the right words
to lift up my mood and make everything okay

his words are the bandages to my wounds,
the sun glasses when the sun shines so bright,
and the umbrella when the skies cry

his words are all I have now and
i’ll treasure these until he finally
finds his way back to me

until he finds his voice
to speak these words to me
once more
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