It is full summer now, the heart of June;
Not yet the sunburnt reapers are astir
Upon the upland meadow where too soon
Rich autumn time, the season’s usurer,
Will lend his hoarded gold to all the trees,
And see his treasure scattered by the wild and spendthrift breeze.

Too soon indeed! yet here the daffodil,
That love-child of the Spring, has lingered on
To vex the rose with jealousy, and still
The harebell spreads her azure pavilion,
And like a strayed and wandering reveller
Abandoned of its brothers, whom long since June’s messenger

The missel-thrush has frighted from the glade,
One pale narcissus loiters fearfully
Close to a shadowy nook, where half afraid
Of their own loveliness some violets lie
That will not look the gold sun in the face
For fear of too much splendour,—ah! methinks it is a place

Which should be trodden by Persephone
When wearied of the flowerless fields of Dis!
Or danced on by the lads of Arcady!
The hidden secret of eternal bliss
Known to the Grecian here a man might find,
Ah! you and I may find it now if Love and Sleep be kind.

There are the flowers which mourning Herakles
Strewed on the tomb of Hylas, columbine,
Its white doves all a-flutter where the breeze
Kissed them too harshly, the small celandine,
That yellow-kirtled chorister of eve,
And lilac lady’s-smock,—but let them bloom alone, and leave

Yon spired hollyhock red-crocketed
To sway its silent chimes, else must the bee,
Its little bellringer, go seek instead
Some other pleasaunce; the anemone
That weeps at daybreak, like a silly girl
Before her love, and hardly lets the butterflies unfurl

Their painted wings beside it,—bid it pine
In pale virginity; the winter snow
Will suit it better than those lips of thine
Whose fires would but scorch it, rather go
And pluck that amorous flower which blooms alone,
Fed by the pander wind with dust of kisses not its own.

The trumpet-mouths of red convolvulus
So dear to maidens, creamy meadow-sweet
Whiter than Juno’s throat and odorous
As all Arabia, hyacinths the feet
Of Huntress Dian would be loth to mar
For any dappled fawn,—pluck these, and those fond flowers which
are

Fairer than what Queen Venus trod upon
Beneath the pines of Ida, eucharis,
That morning star which does not dread the sun,
And budding marjoram which but to kiss
Would sweeten Cytheraea’s lips and make
Adonis jealous,—these for thy head,—and for thy girdle take

Yon curving spray of purple clematis
Whose gorgeous dye outflames the Tyrian King,
And foxgloves with their nodding chalices,
But that one narciss which the startled Spring
Let from her kirtle fall when first she heard
In her own woods the wild tempestuous song of summer’s bird,

Ah! leave it for a subtle memory
Of those sweet tremulous days of rain and sun,
When April laughed between her tears to see
The early primrose with shy footsteps run
From the gnarled oak-tree roots till all the wold,
Spite of its brown and trampled leaves, grew bright with shimmering
gold.

Nay, pluck it too, it is not half so sweet
As thou thyself, my soul’s idolatry!
And when thou art a-wearied at thy feet
Shall oxlips weave their brightest tapestry,
For thee the woodbine shall forget its pride
And veil its tangled whorls, and thou shalt walk on daisies pied.

And I will cut a reed by yonder spring
And make the wood-gods jealous, and old Pan
Wonder what young intruder dares to sing
In these still haunts, where never foot of man
Should tread at evening, lest he chance to spy
The marble limbs of Artemis and all her company.

And I will tell thee why the jacinth wears
Such dread embroidery of dolorous moan,
And why the hapless nightingale forbears
To sing her song at noon, but weeps alone
When the fleet swallow sleeps, and rich men feast,
And why the laurel trembles when she sees the lightening east.

And I will sing how sad Proserpina
Unto a grave and gloomy Lord was wed,
And lure the silver-breasted Helena
Back from the lotus meadows of the dead,
So shalt thou see that awful loveliness
For which two mighty Hosts met fearfully in war’s abyss!

And then I’ll pipe to thee that Grecian tale
How Cynthia loves the lad Endymion,
And hidden in a grey and misty veil
Hies to the cliffs of Latmos once the Sun
Leaps from his ocean bed in fruitless chase
Of those pale flying feet which fade away in his embrace.

And if my flute can breathe sweet melody,
We may behold Her face who long ago
Dwelt among men by the AEgean sea,
And whose sad house with pillaged portico
And friezeless wall and columns toppled down
Looms o’er the ruins of that fair and violet cinctured town.

Spirit of Beauty! tarry still awhile,
They are not dead, thine ancient votaries;
Some few there are to whom thy radiant smile
Is better than a thousand victories,
Though all the nobly slain of Waterloo
Rise up in wrath against them! tarry still, there are a few

Who for thy sake would give their manlihood
And consecrate their being; I at least
Have done so, made thy lips my daily food,
And in thy temples found a goodlier feast
Than this starved age can give me, spite of all
Its new-found creeds so sceptical and so dogmatical.

Here not Cephissos, not Ilissos flows,
The woods of white Colonos are not here,
On our bleak hills the olive never blows,
No simple priest conducts his lowing steer
Up the steep marble way, nor through the town
Do laughing maidens bear to thee the crocus-flowered gown.

Yet tarry! for the boy who loved thee best,
Whose very name should be a memory
To make thee linger, sleeps in silent rest
Beneath the Roman walls, and melody
Still mourns her sweetest lyre; none can play
The lute of Adonais:  with his lips Song passed away.

Nay, when Keats died the Muses still had left
One silver voice to sing his threnody,
But ah! too soon of it we were bereft
When on that riven night and stormy sea
Panthea claimed her singer as her own,
And slew the mouth that praised her; since which time we walk
alone,

Save for that fiery heart, that morning star
Of re-arisen England, whose clear eye
Saw from our tottering throne and waste of war
The grand Greek limbs of young Democracy
Rise mightily like Hesperus and bring
The great Republic! him at least thy love hath taught to sing,

And he hath been with thee at Thessaly,
And seen white Atalanta fleet of foot
In passionless and fierce virginity
Hunting the tusked boar, his honied lute
Hath pierced the cavern of the hollow hill,
And Venus laughs to know one knee will bow before her still.

And he hath kissed the lips of Proserpine,
And sung the Galilaean’s requiem,
That wounded forehead dashed with blood and wine
He hath discrowned, the Ancient Gods in him
Have found their last, most ardent worshipper,
And the new Sign grows grey and dim before its conqueror.

Spirit of Beauty! tarry with us still,
It is not quenched the torch of poesy,
The star that shook above the Eastern hill
Holds unassailed its argent armoury
From all the gathering gloom and fretful fight—
O tarry with us still! for through the long and common night,

Morris, our sweet and simple Chaucer’s child,
Dear heritor of Spenser’s tuneful reed,
With soft and sylvan pipe has oft beguiled
The weary soul of man in troublous need,
And from the far and flowerless fields of ice
Has brought fair flowers to make an earthly paradise.

We know them all, Gudrun the strong men’s bride,
Aslaug and Olafson we know them all,
How giant Grettir fought and Sigurd died,
And what enchantment held the king in thrall
When lonely Brynhild wrestled with the powers
That war against all passion, ah! how oft through summer hours,

Long listless summer hours when the noon
Being enamoured of a damask rose
Forgets to journey westward, till the moon
The pale usurper of its tribute grows
From a thin sickle to a silver shield
And chides its loitering car—how oft, in some cool grassy field

Far from the cricket-ground and noisy eight,
At Bagley, where the rustling bluebells come
Almost before the blackbird finds a mate
And overstay the swallow, and the hum
Of many murmuring bees flits through the leaves,
Have I lain poring on the dreamy tales his fancy weaves,

And through their unreal woes and mimic pain
Wept for myself, and so was purified,
And in their simple mirth grew glad again;
For as I sailed upon that pictured tide
The strength and splendour of the storm was mine
Without the storm’s red ruin, for the singer is divine;

The little laugh of water falling down
Is not so musical, the clammy gold
Close hoarded in the tiny waxen town
Has less of sweetness in it, and the old
Half-withered reeds that waved in Arcady
Touched by his lips break forth again to fresher harmony.

Spirit of Beauty, tarry yet awhile!
Although the cheating merchants of the mart
With iron roads profane our lovely isle,
And break on whirling wheels the limbs of Art,
Ay! though the crowded factories beget
The blindworm Ignorance that slays the soul, O tarry yet!

For One at least there is,—He bears his name
From Dante and the seraph Gabriel,—
Whose double laurels burn with deathless flame
To light thine altar; He too loves thee well,
Who saw old Merlin lured in Vivien’s snare,
And the white feet of angels coming down the golden stair,

Loves thee so well, that all the World for him
A gorgeous-coloured vestiture must wear,
And Sorrow take a purple diadem,
Or else be no more Sorrow, and Despair
Gild its own thorns, and Pain, like Adon, be
Even in anguish beautiful;—such is the empery

Which Painters hold, and such the heritage
This gentle solemn Spirit doth possess,
Being a better mirror of his age
In all his pity, love, and weariness,
Than those who can but copy common things,
And leave the Soul unpainted with its mighty questionings.

But they are few, and all romance has flown,
And men can prophesy about the sun,
And lecture on his arrows—how, alone,
Through a waste void the soulless atoms run,
How from each tree its weeping nymph has fled,
And that no more ’mid English reeds a Naiad shows her head.

Methinks these new Actaeons boast too soon
That they have spied on beauty; what if we
Have analysed the rainbow, robbed the moon
Of her most ancient, chastest mystery,
Shall I, the last Endymion, lose all hope
Because rude eyes peer at my mistress through a telescope!

What profit if this scientific age
Burst through our gates with all its retinue
Of modern miracles!  Can it assuage
One lover’s breaking heart? what can it do
To make one life more beautiful, one day
More godlike in its period? but now the Age of Clay

Returns in horrid cycle, and the earth
Hath borne again a noisy progeny
Of ignorant Titans, whose ungodly birth
Hurls them against the august hierarchy
Which sat upon Olympus; to the Dust
They have appealed, and to that barren arbiter they must

Repair for judgment; let them, if they can,
From Natural Warfare and insensate Chance,
Create the new Ideal rule for man!
Methinks that was not my inheritance;
For I was nurtured otherwise, my soul
Passes from higher heights of life to a more supreme goal.

Lo! while we spake the earth did turn away
Her visage from the God, and Hecate’s boat
Rose silver-laden, till the jealous day
Blew all its torches out:  I did not note
The waning hours, to young Endymions
Time’s palsied fingers count in vain his rosary of suns!

Mark how the yellow iris wearily
Leans back its throat, as though it would be kissed
By its false chamberer, the dragon-fly,
Who, like a blue vein on a girl’s white wrist,
Sleeps on that snowy primrose of the night,
Which ‘gins to flush with crimson shame, and die beneath the light.

Come let us go, against the pallid shield
Of the wan sky the almond blossoms gleam,
The corncrake nested in the unmown field
Answers its mate, across the misty stream
On fitful wing the startled curlews fly,
And in his sedgy bed the lark, for joy that Day is nigh,

Scatters the pearled dew from off the grass,
In tremulous ecstasy to greet the sun,
Who soon in gilded panoply will pass
Forth from yon orange-curtained pavilion
Hung in the burning east:  see, the red rim
O’ertops the expectant hills! it is the God! for love of him

Already the shrill lark is out of sight,
Flooding with waves of song this silent dell,—
Ah! there is something more in that bird’s flight
Than could be tested in a crucible!—
But the air freshens, let us go, why soon
The woodmen will be here; how we have lived this night of June!

All night the dreadless Angel, unpursued,
Through Heaven’s wide champain held his way; till Morn,
Waked by the circling Hours, with rosy hand
Unbarred the gates of light.  There is a cave
Within the mount of God, fast by his throne,
Where light and darkness in perpetual round
Lodge and dislodge by turns, which makes through Heaven
Grateful vicissitude, like day and night;
Light issues forth, and at the other door
Obsequious darkness enters, till her hour
To veil the Heaven, though darkness there might well
Seem twilight here:  And now went forth the Morn
Such as in highest Heaven arrayed in gold
Empyreal; from before her vanished Night,
Shot through with orient beams; when all the plain
Covered with thick embattled squadrons bright,
Chariots, and flaming arms, and fiery steeds,
Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view:
War he perceived, war in procinct; and found
Already known what he for news had thought
To have reported:  Gladly then he mixed
Among those friendly Powers, who him received
With joy and acclamations loud, that one,
That of so many myriads fallen, yet one
Returned not lost.  On to the sacred hill
They led him high applauded, and present
Before the seat supreme; from whence a voice,
From midst a golden cloud, thus mild was heard.
Servant of God. Well done; well hast thou fought
The better fight, who single hast maintained
Against revolted multitudes the cause
Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms;
And for the testimony of truth hast borne
Universal reproach, far worse to bear
Than violence; for this was all thy care
To stand approved in sight of God, though worlds
Judged thee perverse:  The easier conquest now
Remains thee, aided by this host of friends,
Back on thy foes more glorious to return,
Than scorned thou didst depart; and to subdue
By force, who reason for their law refuse,
Right reason for their law, and for their King
Messiah, who by right of merit reigns.
Go, Michael, of celestial armies prince,
And thou, in military prowess next,
Gabriel, lead forth to battle these my sons
Invincible; lead forth my armed Saints,
By thousands and by millions, ranged for fight,
Equal in number to that Godless crew
Rebellious:  Them with fire and hostile arms
Fearless assault; and, to the brow of Heaven
Pursuing, drive them out from God and bliss,
Into their place of punishment, the gulf
Of Tartarus, which ready opens wide
His fiery Chaos to receive their fall.
So spake the Sovran Voice, and clouds began
To darken all the hill, and smoke to roll
In dusky wreaths, reluctant flames, the sign
Of wrath awaked; nor with less dread the loud
Ethereal trumpet from on high ‘gan blow:
At which command the Powers militant,
That stood for Heaven, in mighty quadrate joined
Of union irresistible, moved on
In silence their bright legions, to the sound
Of instrumental harmony, that breathed
Heroick ardour to adventurous deeds
Under their God-like leaders, in the cause
Of God and his Messiah.  On they move
Indissolubly firm; nor obvious hill,
Nor straitening vale, nor wood, nor stream, divides
Their perfect ranks; for high above the ground
Their march was, and the passive air upbore
Their nimble tread; as when the total kind
Of birds, in orderly array on wing,
Came summoned over Eden to receive
Their names of thee; so over many a tract
Of Heaven they marched, and many a province wide,
Tenfold the length of this terrene:  At last,
Far in the horizon to the north appeared
From skirt to skirt a fiery region, stretched
In battailous aspect, and nearer view
Bristled with upright beams innumerable
Of rigid spears, and helmets thronged, and shields
Various, with boastful argument portrayed,
The banded Powers of Satan hasting on
With furious expedition; for they weened
That self-same day, by fight or by surprise,
To win the mount of God, and on his throne
To set the Envier of his state, the proud
Aspirer; but their thoughts proved fond and vain
In the mid way:  Though strange to us it seemed
At first, that Angel should with Angel war,
And in fierce hosting meet, who wont to meet
So oft in festivals of joy and love
Unanimous, as sons of one great Sire,
Hymning the Eternal Father:  But the shout
Of battle now began, and rushing sound
Of onset ended soon each milder thought.
High in the midst, exalted as a God,
The Apostate in his sun-bright chariot sat,
Idol of majesty divine, enclosed
With flaming Cherubim, and golden shields;
Then lighted from his gorgeous throne, for now
“twixt host and host but narrow space was left,
A dreadful interval, and front to front
Presented stood in terrible array
Of hideous length:  Before the cloudy van,
On the rough edge of battle ere it joined,
Satan, with vast and haughty strides advanced,
Came towering, armed in adamant and gold;
Abdiel that sight endured not, where he stood
Among the mightiest, bent on highest deeds,
And thus his own undaunted heart explores.
O Heaven! that such resemblance of the Highest
Should yet remain, where faith and realty
Remain not:  Wherefore should not strength and might
There fail where virtue fails, or weakest prove
Where boldest, though to fight unconquerable?
His puissance, trusting in the Almighty’s aid,
I mean to try, whose reason I have tried
Unsound and false; nor is it aught but just,
That he, who in debate of truth hath won,
Should win in arms, in both disputes alike
Victor; though brutish that contest and foul,
When reason hath to deal with force, yet so
Most reason is that reason overcome.
So pondering, and from his armed peers
Forth stepping opposite, half-way he met
His daring foe, at this prevention more
Incensed, and thus securely him defied.
Proud, art thou met? thy hope was to have reached
The highth of thy aspiring unopposed,
The throne of God unguarded, and his side
Abandoned, at the terrour of thy power
Or potent tongue:  Fool!not to think how vain
Against the Omnipotent to rise in arms;
Who out of smallest things could, without end,
Have raised incessant armies to defeat
Thy folly; or with solitary hand
Reaching beyond all limit, at one blow,
Unaided, could have finished thee, and whelmed
Thy legions under darkness:  But thou seest
All are not of thy train; there be, who faith
Prefer, and piety to God, though then
To thee not visible, when I alone
Seemed in thy world erroneous to dissent
From all:  My sect thou seest;now learn too late
How few sometimes may know, when thousands err.
Whom the grand foe, with scornful eye askance,
Thus answered.  Ill for thee, but in wished hour
Of my revenge, first sought for, thou returnest
From flight, seditious Angel! to receive
Thy merited reward, the first assay
Of this right hand provoked, since first that tongue,
Inspired with contradiction, durst oppose
A third part of the Gods, in synod met
Their deities to assert; who, while they feel
Vigour divine within them, can allow
Omnipotence to none.  But well thou comest
Before thy fellows, ambitious to win
From me some plume, that thy success may show
Destruction to the rest:  This pause between,
(Unanswered lest thou boast) to let thee know,
At first I thought that Liberty and Heaven
To heavenly souls had been all one; but now
I see that most through sloth had rather serve,
Ministring Spirits, trained up in feast and song!
Such hast thou armed, the minstrelsy of Heaven,
Servility with freedom to contend,
As both their deeds compared this day shall prove.
To whom in brief thus Abdiel stern replied.
Apostate! still thou errest, nor end wilt find
Of erring, from the path of truth remote:
Unjustly thou depravest it with the name
Of servitude, to serve whom God ordains,
Or Nature:  God and Nature bid the same,
When he who rules is worthiest, and excels
Them whom he governs.  This is servitude,
To serve the unwise, or him who hath rebelled
Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee,
Thyself not free, but to thyself enthralled;
Yet lewdly darest our ministring upbraid.
Reign thou in Hell, thy kingdom; let me serve
In Heaven God ever blest, and his divine
Behests obey, worthiest to be obeyed;
Yet chains in Hell, not realms, expect:  Mean while
From me returned, as erst thou saidst, from flight,
This greeting on thy impious crest receive.
So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high,
Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell
On the proud crest of Satan, that no sight,
Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield,
Such ruin intercept:  Ten paces huge
He back recoiled; the tenth on bended knee
His massy spear upstaid; as if on earth
Winds under ground, or waters forcing way,
Sidelong had pushed a mountain from his seat,
Half sunk with all his pines.  Amazement seised
The rebel Thrones, but greater rage, to see
Thus foiled their mightiest; ours joy filled, and shout,
Presage of victory, and fierce desire
Of battle:  Whereat Michael bid sound
The Arch-Angel trumpet; through the vast of Heaven
It sounded, and the faithful armies rung
Hosanna to the Highest:  Nor stood at gaze
The adverse legions, nor less hideous joined
The horrid shock.  Now storming fury rose,
And clamour such as heard in Heaven till now
Was never; arms on armour clashing brayed
Horrible discord, and the madding wheels
Of brazen chariots raged; dire was the noise
Of conflict; over head the dismal hiss
Of fiery darts in flaming vollies flew,
And flying vaulted either host with fire.
So under fiery cope together rushed
Both battles main, with ruinous assault
And inextinguishable rage.  All Heaven
Resounded; and had Earth been then, all Earth
Had to her center shook.  What wonder? when
Millions of fierce encountering Angels fought
On either side, the least of whom could wield
These elements, and arm him with the force
Of all their regions:  How much more of power
Army against army numberless to raise
Dreadful combustion warring, and disturb,
Though not destroy, their happy native seat;
Had not the Eternal King Omnipotent,
From his strong hold of Heaven, high over-ruled
And limited their might; though numbered such
As each divided legion might have seemed
A numerous host; in strength each armed hand
A legion; led in fight, yet leader seemed
Each warriour single as in chief, expert
When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway
Of battle, open when, and when to close
The ridges of grim war:  No thought of flight,
None of retreat, no unbecoming deed
That argued fear; each on himself relied,
As only in his arm the moment lay
Of victory:  Deeds of eternal fame
Were done, but infinite; for wide was spread
That war and various; sometimes on firm ground
A standing fight, then, soaring on main wing,
Tormented all the air; all air seemed then
Conflicting fire.  Long time in even scale
The battle hung; till Satan, who that day
Prodigious power had shown, and met in arms
No equal, ranging through the dire attack
Of fighting Seraphim confused, at length
Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and felled
Squadrons at once; with huge two-handed sway
Brandished aloft, the horrid edge came down
Wide-wasting; such destruction to withstand
He hasted, and opposed the rocky orb
Of tenfold adamant, his ample shield,
A vast circumference.  At his approach
The great Arch-Angel from his warlike toil
Surceased, and glad, as hoping here to end
Intestine war in Heaven, the arch-foe subdued
Or captive dragged in chains, with hostile frown
And visage all inflamed first thus began.
Author of evil, unknown till thy revolt,
Unnamed in Heaven, now plenteous as thou seest
These acts of hateful strife, hateful to all,
Though heaviest by just measure on thyself,
And thy  adherents:  How hast thou disturbed
Heaven’s blessed peace, and into nature brought
Misery, uncreated till the crime
Of thy rebellion! how hast thou instilled
Thy malice into thousands, once upright
And faithful, now proved false!  But think not here
To trouble holy rest; Heaven casts thee out
From all her confines.  Heaven, the seat of bliss,
Brooks not the works of violence and war.
Hence then, and evil go with thee along,
Thy offspring, to the place of evil, Hell;
Thou and thy wicked crew! there mingle broils,
Ere this avenging sword begin thy doom,
Or some more sudden vengeance, winged from God,
Precipitate thee with augmented pain.
So spake the Prince of Angels; to whom thus
The Adversary.  Nor think thou with wind
Of aery threats to awe whom yet with deeds
Thou canst not.  Hast thou turned the least of these
To flight, or if to fall, but that they rise
Unvanquished, easier to transact with me
That thou shouldst hope, imperious, and with threats
To chase me hence? err not, that so shall end
The strife which thou callest evil, but we style
The strife of glory; which we mean to win,
Or turn this Heaven itself into the Hell
Thou fablest; here however to dwell free,
If not to reign:  Mean while thy utmost force,
And join him named Almighty to thy aid,
I fly not, but have sought thee far and nigh.
They ended parle, and both addressed for fight
Unspeakable; for who, though with the tongue
Of Angels, can relate, or to what things
Liken on earth conspicuous, that may lift
Human imagination to such highth
Of Godlike power? for likest Gods they seemed,
Stood they or moved, in stature, motion, arms,
Fit to decide the empire of great Heaven.
Now waved their fiery swords, and in the air
Made horrid circles; two broad suns their shields
Blazed opposite, while Expectation stood
In horrour:  From each hand with speed retired,
Where erst was thickest fight, the angelick throng,
And left large field, unsafe within the wind
Of such commotion; such as, to set forth
Great things by small, if, nature’s concord broke,
Among the constellations war were sprung,
Two planets, rushing from aspect malign
Of fiercest opposition, in mid sky
Should combat, and their jarring spheres confound.
Together both with next to almighty arm
Up-lifted imminent, one stroke they aimed
That might determine, and not need repeat,
As not of power at once; nor odds appeared
In might or swift prevention:  But the sword
Of Michael from the armoury of God
Was given him tempered so, that neither keen
Nor solid might resist that edge: it met
The sword of Satan, with steep force to smite
Descending, and in half cut sheer; nor staid,
But with swift wheel reverse, deep entering, shared
All his right side:  Then Satan first knew pain,
And writhed him to and fro convolved; so sore
The griding sword with discontinuous wound
Passed through him:  But the ethereal substance closed,
Not long divisible; and from the ****
A stream of necturous humour issuing flowed
Sanguine, such as celestial Spirits may bleed,
And all his armour stained, ere while so bright.
Forthwith on all sides to his aid was run
By Angels many and strong, who interposed
Defence, while others bore him on their shields
Back to his chariot, where it stood retired
From off the files of war:  There they him laid
Gnashing for anguish, and despite, and shame,
To find himself not matchless, and his pride
Humbled by such rebuke, so far beneath
His confidence to equal God in power.
Yet soon he healed; for Spirits that live throughout
Vital in every part, not as frail man
In entrails, heart of head, liver or reins,
Cannot but by annihilating die;
Nor in their liquid texture mortal wound
Receive, no more than can the fluid air:
All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear,
All intellect, all sense; and, as they please,
They limb themselves, and colour, shape, or size
Assume, as?***** them best, condense or rare.
Mean while in other parts like deeds deserved
Memorial, where the might of Gabriel fought,
And with fierce ensigns pierced the deep array
Of Moloch, furious king; who him defied,
And at his chariot-wheels to drag him bound
Threatened, nor from the Holy One of Heaven
Refrained his tongue blasphemous; but anon
Down cloven to the waist, with shattered arms
And uncouth pain fled bellowing.  On each wing
Uriel, and Raphael, his vaunting foe,
Though huge, and in a rock of diamond armed,
Vanquished Adramelech, and Asmadai,
Two potent Thrones, that to be less than

Descend from Heaven, Urania, by that name
If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine
Following, above the Olympian hill I soar,
Above the flight of Pegasean wing!
The meaning, not the name, I call: for thou
Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top
Of old Olympus dwellest; but, heavenly-born,
Before the hills appeared, or fountain flowed,
Thou with eternal Wisdom didst converse,
Wisdom thy sister, and with her didst play
In presence of the Almighty Father, pleased
With thy celestial song.  Up led by thee
Into the Heaven of Heavens I have presumed,
An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air,
Thy tempering: with like safety guided down
Return me to my native element:
Lest from this flying steed unreined, (as once
Bellerophon, though from a lower clime,)
Dismounted, on the Aleian field I fall,
Erroneous there to wander, and forlorn.
Half yet remains unsung, but narrower bound
Within the visible diurnal sphere;
Standing on earth, not rapt above the pole,
More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchanged
To hoarse or mute, though fallen on evil days,
On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues;
In darkness, and with dangers compassed round,
And solitude; yet not alone, while thou
Visitest my slumbers nightly, or when morn
Purples the east: still govern thou my song,
Urania, and fit audience find, though few.
But drive far off the barbarous dissonance
Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race
Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard
In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears
To rapture, till the savage clamour drowned
Both harp and voice; nor could the Muse defend
Her son.  So fail not thou, who thee implores:
For thou art heavenly, she an empty dream.
Say, Goddess, what ensued when Raphael,
The affable Arch-Angel, had forewarned
Adam, by dire example, to beware
Apostasy, by what befel in Heaven
To those apostates; lest the like befall
In Paradise to Adam or his race,
Charged not to touch the interdicted tree,
If they transgress, and slight that sole command,
So easily obeyed amid the choice
Of all tastes else to please their appetite,
Though wandering.  He, with his consorted Eve,
The story heard attentive, and was filled
With admiration and deep muse, to hear
Of things so high and strange; things, to their thought
So unimaginable, as hate in Heaven,
And war so near the peace of God in bliss,
With such confusion: but the evil, soon
Driven back, redounded as a flood on those
From whom it sprung; impossible to mix
With blessedness.  Whence Adam soon repealed
The doubts that in his heart arose: and now
Led on, yet sinless, with desire to know
What nearer might concern him, how this world
Of Heaven and Earth conspicuous first began;
When, and whereof created; for what cause;
What within Eden, or without, was done
Before his memory; as one whose drouth
Yet scarce allayed still eyes the current stream,
Whose liquid murmur heard new thirst excites,
Proceeded thus to ask his heavenly guest.
Great things, and full of wonder in our ears,
Far differing from this world, thou hast revealed,
Divine interpreter! by favour sent
Down from the empyrean, to forewarn
Us timely of what might else have been our loss,
Unknown, which human knowledge could not reach;
For which to the infinitely Good we owe
Immortal thanks, and his admonishment
Receive, with solemn purpose to observe
Immutably his sovran will, the end
Of what we are.  But since thou hast vouchsafed
Gently, for our instruction, to impart
Things above earthly thought, which yet concerned
Our knowing, as to highest wisdom seemed,
Deign to descend now lower, and relate
What may no less perhaps avail us known,
How first began this Heaven which we behold
Distant so high, with moving fires adorned
Innumerable; and this which yields or fills
All space, the ambient air wide interfused
Embracing round this floried Earth; what cause
Moved the Creator, in his holy rest
Through all eternity, so late to build
In Chaos; and the work begun, how soon
Absolved; if unforbid thou mayest unfold
What we, not to explore the secrets ask
Of his eternal empire, but the more
To magnify his works, the more we know.
And the great light of day yet wants to run
Much of his race though steep; suspense in Heaven,
Held by thy voice, thy potent voice, he hears,
And longer will delay to hear thee tell
His generation, and the rising birth
Of Nature from the unapparent Deep:
Or if the star of evening and the moon
Haste to thy audience, Night with her will bring,
Silence; and Sleep, listening to thee, will watch;
Or we can bid his absence, till thy song
End, and dismiss thee ere the morning shine.
Thus Adam his illustrious guest besought:
And thus the Godlike Angel answered mild.
This also thy request, with caution asked,
Obtain; though to recount almighty works
What words or tongue of Seraph can suffice,
Or heart of man suffice to comprehend?
Yet what thou canst attain, which best may serve
To glorify the Maker, and infer
Thee also happier, shall not be withheld
Thy hearing; such commission from above
I have received, to answer thy desire
Of knowledge within bounds; beyond, abstain
To ask; nor let thine own inventions hope
Things not revealed, which the invisible King,
Only Omniscient, hath suppressed in night;
To none communicable in Earth or Heaven:
Enough is left besides to search and know.
But knowledge is as food, and needs no less
Her temperance over appetite, to know
In measure what the mind may well contain;
Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns
Wisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind.
Know then, that, after Lucifer from Heaven
(So call him, brighter once amidst the host
Of Angels, than that star the stars among,)
Fell with his flaming legions through the deep
Into his place, and the great Son returned
Victorious with his Saints, the Omnipotent
Eternal Father from his throne beheld
Their multitude, and to his Son thus spake.
At least our envious Foe hath failed, who thought
All like himself rebellious, by whose aid
This inaccessible high strength, the seat
Of Deity supreme, us dispossessed,
He trusted to have seised, and into fraud
Drew many, whom their place knows here no more:
Yet far the greater part have kept, I see,
Their station; Heaven, yet populous, retains
Number sufficient to possess her realms
Though wide, and this high temple to frequent
With ministeries due, and solemn rites:
But, lest his heart exalt him in the harm
Already done, to have dispeopled Heaven,
My damage fondly deemed, I can repair
That detriment, if such it be to lose
Self-lost; and in a moment will create
Another world, out of one man a race
Of men innumerable, there to dwell,
Not here; till, by degrees of merit raised,
They open to themselves at length the way
Up hither, under long obedience tried;
And Earth be changed to Heaven, and Heaven to Earth,
One kingdom, joy and union without end.
Mean while inhabit lax, ye Powers of Heaven;
And thou my Word, begotten Son, by thee
This I perform; speak thou, and be it done!
My overshadowing Spirit and Might with thee
I send along; ride forth, and bid the Deep
Within appointed bounds be Heaven and Earth;
Boundless the Deep, because I Am who fill
Infinitude, nor vacuous the space.
Though I, uncircumscribed myself, retire,
And put not forth my goodness, which is free
To act or not, Necessity and Chance
Approach not me, and what I will is Fate.
So spake the Almighty, and to what he spake
His Word, the Filial Godhead, gave effect.
Immediate are the acts of God, more swift
Than time or motion, but to human ears
Cannot without process of speech be told,
So told as earthly notion can receive.
Great triumph and rejoicing was in Heaven,
When such was heard declared the Almighty’s will;
Glory they sung to the Most High, good will
To future men, and in their dwellings peace;
Glory to Him, whose just avenging ire
Had driven out the ungodly from his sight
And the habitations of the just; to Him
Glory and praise, whose wisdom had ordained
Good out of evil to create; instead
Of Spirits malign, a better race to bring
Into their vacant room, and thence diffuse
His good to worlds and ages infinite.
So sang the Hierarchies:  Mean while the Son
On his great expedition now appeared,
Girt with Omnipotence, with radiance crowned
Of Majesty Divine; sapience and love
Immense, and all his Father in him shone.
About his chariot numberless were poured
Cherub, and Seraph, Potentates, and Thrones,
And Virtues, winged Spirits, and chariots winged
From the armoury of God; where stand of old
Myriads, between two brazen mountains lodged
Against a solemn day, harnessed at hand,
Celestial equipage; and now came forth
Spontaneous, for within them Spirit lived,
Attendant on their Lord:  Heaven opened wide
Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound
On golden hinges moving, to let forth
The King of Glory, in his powerful Word
And Spirit, coming to create new worlds.
On heavenly ground they stood; and from the shore
They viewed the vast immeasurable abyss
Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild,
Up from the bottom turned by furious winds
And surging waves, as mountains, to assault
Heaven’s highth, and with the center mix the pole.
Silence, ye troubled Waves, and thou Deep, peace,
Said then the Omnifick Word; your discord end!
Nor staid; but, on the wings of Cherubim
Uplifted, in paternal glory rode
Far into Chaos, and the world unborn;
For Chaos heard his voice:  Him all his train
Followed in bright procession, to behold
Creation, and the wonders of his might.
Then staid the fervid wheels, and in his hand
He took the golden compasses, prepared
In God’s eternal store, to circumscribe
This universe, and all created things:
One foot he centered, and the other turned
Round through the vast profundity obscure;
And said, Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds,
This be thy just circumference, O World!
Thus God the Heaven created, thus the Earth,
Matter unformed and void:  Darkness profound
Covered the abyss: but on the watery calm
His brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread,
And vital virtue infused, and vital warmth
Throughout the fluid mass; but downward purged
The black tartareous cold infernal dregs,
Adverse to life: then founded, then conglobed
Like things to like; the rest to several place
Disparted, and between spun out the air;
And Earth self-balanced on her center hung.
Let there be light, said God; and forthwith Light
Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure,
Sprung from the deep; and from her native east
To journey through the aery gloom began,
Sphered in a radiant cloud, for yet the sun
Was not; she in a cloudy tabernacle
Sojourned the while.  God saw the light was good;
And light from darkness by the hemisphere
Divided: light the Day, and darkness Night,
He named.  Thus was the first day even and morn:
Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsung
By the celestial quires, when orient light
Exhaling first from darkness they beheld;
Birth-day of Heaven and Earth; with joy and shout
The hollow universal orb they filled,
And touched their golden harps, and hymning praised
God and his works; Creator him they sung,
Both when first evening was, and when first morn.
Again, God said,  Let there be firmament
Amid the waters, and let it divide
The waters from the waters; and God made
The firmament, expanse of liquid, pure,
Transparent, elemental air, diffused
In circuit to the uttermost convex
Of this great round; partition firm and sure,
The waters underneath from those above
Dividing: for as earth, so he the world
Built on circumfluous waters calm, in wide
Crystalline ocean, and the loud misrule
Of Chaos far removed; lest fierce extremes
Contiguous might distemper the whole frame:
And Heaven he named the Firmament:  So even
And morning chorus sung the second day.
The Earth was formed, but in the womb as yet
Of waters, embryon immature involved,
Appeared not: over all the face of Earth
Main ocean flowed, not idle; but, with warm
Prolifick humour softening all her globe,
Fermented the great mother to conceive,
Satiate with genial moisture; when God said,
Be gathered now ye waters under Heaven
Into one place, and let dry land appear.
Immediately the mountains huge appear
Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave
Into the clouds; their tops ascend the sky:
So high as heaved the tumid hills, so low
Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep,
Capacious bed of waters:  Thither they
Hasted with glad precipitance, uprolled,
As drops on dust conglobing from the dry:
Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct,
For haste; such flight the great command impressed
On the swift floods:  As armies at the call
Of trumpet (for of armies thou hast heard)
Troop to their standard; so the watery throng,
Wave rolling after wave, where way they found,
If steep, with torrent rapture, if through plain,
Soft-ebbing; nor withstood them rock or hill;
But they, or under ground, or circuit wide
With serpent errour wandering, found their way,
And on the washy oose deep channels wore;
Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry,
All but within those banks, where rivers now
Stream, and perpetual draw their humid train.
The dry land, Earth; and the great receptacle
Of congregated waters, he called Seas:
And saw that it was good; and said, Let the Earth
Put forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed,
And fruit-tree yielding fruit after her kind,
Whose seed is in herself upon the Earth.
He scarce had said, when the bare Earth, till then
Desart and bare, unsightly, unadorned,
Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad
Her universal face with pleasant green;
Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flowered
Opening their various colours, and made gay
Her *****, smelling sweet: and, these scarce blown,
Forth flourished thick the clustering vine, forth crept
The swelling gourd, up stood the corny reed
Embattled in her field, and the humble shrub,
And bush with frizzled hair implicit:  Last
Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread
Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gemmed
Their blossoms:  With high woods the hills were crowned;
With tufts the valleys, and each fountain side;
With borders long the rivers: that Earth now
Seemed like to Heaven, a seat where Gods might dwell,
Or wander with delight, and love to haunt
Her sacred shades: though God had yet not rained
Upon the Earth, and man to till the ground
None was; but from the Earth a dewy mist
Went up, and watered all the ground, and each
Plant of the field; which, ere it was in the Earth,
God made, and every herb, before it grew
On the green stem:  God saw that it was good:
So even and morn recorded the third day.
Again the Almighty spake, Let there be lights
High in the expanse of Heaven, to divide
The day from night; and let them be for signs,
For seasons, and for days, and circling years;
And let them be for lights, as I ordain
Their office in the firmament of Heaven,
To give light on the Earth; and it was so.
And God made two great lights, great for their use
To Man, the greater to have rule by day,
The less by night, altern; and made the stars,
And set them in the firmament of Heaven
To illuminate the Earth, and rule the day
In their vicissitude, and rule the night,
And light from darkness to divide.  God saw,
Surveying his great work, that it was good:
For of celestial bodies first the sun
A mighty sphere he framed, unlightsome first,
Though of ethereal mould: then formed the moon
Globose, and every magnitude of stars,
And sowed with stars the Heaven, thick as a field:
Of light by far the greater part he took,
Transplanted from her cloudy shrine, and placed
In the sun’s orb, made porous to receive
And drink the liquid light; firm to retain
Her gathered beams, great palace now of light.
Hither, as to their fountain, other stars
Repairing, in their golden urns draw light,
And hence the morning-planet gilds her horns;
By tincture or reflection they augment
Their small peculiar, though from human sight
So far rem

Unperturbed in austere times
Unentangled in a web of complex signs
Unfazed by a vicious complex
I find solace in the face of duress
Configured to righteousness
I am withdrawn from Cross and Crescent mess
Invisible against a tide of boisterous wave
I weave my way and gravitate towards space
The sun a distant memory
Passion and zeal my most valuable armoury
In the heavens i light my stars
In paradise lost i leave my mark
With Noah's design hacked
Not even Jupiter can navigate my ark
Unlike terminator I Am Back

It is not to be thought of that the flood
  Of British freedom, which, to the open sea
  Of the world’s praise, from dark antiquity
Hath flow’d, ‘with pomp of waters, unwithstood,’
Roused though it be full often to a mood
  Which spurns the check of salutary bands,—
  That this most famous stream in bogs and sands
Should perish; and to evil and to good
Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung
  Armoury of the invincible Knights of old:
We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
  That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held.—In everything we are sprung
  Of Earth’s first blood, have titles manifold.

It is not to be thought of that the Flood
Of British freedom, which, to the open sea
Of the world’s praise, from dark antiquity
Hath flowed, “with pomp of waters, unwithstood,”
Roused though it be full often to a mood
Which spurns the check of salutary bands,
That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands
Should perish; and to evil and to good
Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung
Armoury of the invincible Knights of old:
We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held.—In every thing we are sprung
Of Earth’s first blood, have titles manifold.

I need a gun.
It is my first waking thought.
But it is very dark here.
I bang my naked knee on something hard.
The armoury is this way. I think?
My palms touch, rub, smooth bare metal.
And then a switch.
Light blinds me more than the darkness before.
I am bleeding.
My skin is raw.
The armoury door is locked.
And the lock is oiled with anothers blood,
and flakes of a different kind of skin.
Inside it's warm.
Machined weapons hold no animosity.
My choice is slick, almost pretty but I need a glove to hold her in check.
In pastures green, I have been led.
I have lain me down by still waters.  
There was no rod and no staff to comfort me.
But I have a gun now.
And a glove to hold her in check.
My raw and naked skin will pass you by.
My blood shall make rainbows in your peaceful waters.

Who is I?
In the Now. I am of true boi essence.
A writer, a recluse, abandoned only of fate: Destiny ever alluring in the palm of my hand.
Limited only by my own inabilty to be present in only one consciousness.
I am split between reality strings.
A permeant spectre, caught betwixt parallel dimensions.
At times incoherrant, lost in esoteric translation.
I am physic(al) - I of breath + flesh, perception being my holster, corruption my armoury.
Intuitively, i am harmonious, sanctonious, welcoming of illuminations and the darker side of each unfettered moon.
Awareness sleeps by my side. Each waking minute guarded. of commonality.
I am enlightened.
I am bouyant.
mobile, fluid-like in kinesis.
Conventional existense being the foundation over which i fly.
Arms outstretched, willing risk to be my pull.
Enticing Love to be my drag.
balance, mediums, equilibrium.
Lifted high amidst winds roaring with possibility.
I am stark in naked complication, although often prone to cover up in cynical, self critical analysis.
I am given of self; being the taker a refreshing discourse to which i stray accordingly.

Of culture i am a liar.
By nature i tend towards honesty only straying when survivalistic path need tread.
I am of blood,
private yet optimistically open to scarring.
By custom i am trained, civil, content.
Of instinct; native raw tongue, i am rampant, rapid in force, compelled to grow then emerge.
Only.
To submerge
is to take full scope.
i am telescopic
in view of A/all else to which i drown my vision.
I am unsure if i am young,
Although certain that my passage is still being lit by the glow of its entrance, dark passageways luring with their shadows and cavernous corners.
I am liberal, random in speculatory silence. I am idle, often motivated by industrial desire.
Mechanical in process, structured of cerebreal architecture, yet somewhat discombobulated in particularity.
Sporadic be my strain, its think tank choking always on the weeds of sorrow.
Essentially i am nothing: yet overwhelmingly everything.
I was
I am
I will
therefore i
Exist
to i as
A/all and nothing.
As yesterday is to tommorrow, and visa versa, i am a window, a door, a channel:
as closed as i am open.
Dependant only on my own deliverence of influence and potential.
Driven by the promise of future and the demands of my past.
I am a vehicle in time, my presence, my motion, my journey
is I.

If I was to read for you, My queen that glow,
A poem of beauty, as only few words could show.
Like Picasso as a writer, let me paint your body,
A whisper of grace and elegance, without noise of gaudy.

You posses a twin of eyes, an immaculate glitter of beauty,
From which life receives its absolute lenity.
To glow in such light of orchestration, Like a crown on the head of time,
Whence bliss takes its origin and befitting prime.

Your alluring smile, a linger of unstinted comfort,
To the stars in tender darkness of the universe, glumming in discomfort.
Each of which humbles at your engrossing presence,
And glows in congruence to the light of your radiance.

Your arms like shields,protective armoury that gets soul lifted,
Touch of your fingers, ten cradle of breath taking sweetness, heavenly gifted.
Each a perfect blend of liniment and mystic power,such,
To impel dead heart to once last beat at thy touch.

your smooth bottled neck, over your soft shoulders,
Holds a face of coherent beauty, eyed in all beholders.
A beauty indescribable by far, as only few words could tell,
How ethereally lovely it can be ; perpetually graced with the touch of angel.

Your walk of indefinable class, a lucid rawness of orchestrated elegance,
So much elegance that the angels gasp in the wake of your presence.
To dance into ecstasy,from which heaven's purity is formed,
In but of your light of all light, they all are conformed.

Those smooth long legs spread like the wings of a flyer,
Inner thighs speak a truth that would mute a liar.
And drip sweet smelling nectar that excites a man's desires,
Like an addictive drug, that makes him only want to get higher.

Beautiful seasoned lips even angels could not grace,
Like two ***** of icing sugar, leaves me breathless each time our lips come in embrace.
And the pressure they do impart,
Have the power to break the devil's heart.

Your two cupped breast,stretch the stitches of your blouse,
As if swollen with milk and honey, my flame only its water could douse.
The most tender of all cleavage,had touched my palms with finesse,
Which contact makes me frozen; a sweet emblem dancing to impress.

If I was to read for you, My queen that glow,
A poem of beauty, as only few words could show.
Like Picasso as a writer, let me paint your body,
A whisper of grace and elegance, without noise of gaudy.

between the hours of 10pm and 1am you can see the other london "smog," which isn't really a smog, you see it on the outskirts of suburbia in these hours, during winter, when the earth opens and water vaporises into a thick splodge of thickness that's like burnt coal... it's frost temperatures, you walk the distance, you breathe as if smoking a cigarette, the aura is still there, your hands are turning into skeletal keys with the sight a lock, you reiterate the skeletal hands next to your eyes and liver, you become a locksmith, you put the key in, the lock clicks like virginity... you enter... you become a singularity of life expressed; it's outer-suburbia, and you know it's a walking distance from a village, a forest, pasture lands among cows, slaughter bulls, horses, badgers, deer and hedgehogs; the earth opens in winter and shows you lungs, in summer the desolation of aero, dry moth larvae, clear vision, but only in winter the warmed ****** of smog from cigarette-free cemented in roads is re-fathomed in the outer suburbia, here i touch the pinnacle, here i dress like a pineapple... still in my short sleeve shirt and hooded garment i ache for my fingers to feel less flesh for summer and skin's auburn, and rekindle winter with bone and the arithmetic of drummed clicks of joints of fingers plucked from a quill's silence, cracking from the kraken weight of comparison that was never the ring finger entangled with the index finger like the index with the *******, to the surprise of italians a gesticulation of good luck.*

i never got the hang of it, i liked it,
i was young enough after all,
cartoon network still preserved scubidoo,
and he-man, then cow & chicken came
along and i lost it...
i didn't relate to the a.d.h.d. of the cartoons,
it was still sugar coloured, but just
too much rush, so i left it...
my favourite game on that old grey man
of consoles that was playstation 1 like a v.c.r.
for compact disks was tenchu: stealth assassin,
the fifth mission sexism, a merchant
is being ignoble, you're sent to assassinate him,
play as man, you get an automation
for hara kiri video sequence,
play as girl, he's too noble, you have to **** him
manually with his bow & arrow...
lovely snow flakes against nearing spring blossom...
finished it, oh yeah, it was a great game...
i played sim city 3000 because of the cool
jazz music...
the sims though? i freaked out when i moved my pawn
avatar to play computer games rather than
encapsulate a need for medieval armoury to stand
on my mahogany flooring altars of pixel fakes...
played the sim. into playing computer games
all the time and found the wormhole into reality
and thus freaked... stopped playing the game...
fun for a bit, but in terms of mozart & backstreet boys
chess still remains the game equivalent to music
compared classical: very abstract, very much no representative
of reality.
then i completed final fantasy vii with a guide book:
homework was more important, i craved the spoilers,
although i loved the aesthetics...
a three dimensional body walking about in a lavish
two dimensional canvas...
but tonight i remembered the pythagorean *******
of lara croft, all triangular...
years later i heard tomb raider 1 had a dinosaur in it...
never reached that bit...
i got to the part where i killed the pack of foxes
at the beginning and started to look at a two dimensional
fern in a three dimensional landscape...
the ****** fern rotated when i started eyeing it!
weird...
weirder still when i took the game from the computer
and put it against the night sky...
the night sky is like a fern, two dimensional,
but since i'm in an atmosphere of a three dimensional object
i simply can't see 2d;
even while i did a dervish drinking beer
at a memorial of those befallen in world wars, 1 and 2,
i couldn't prove that what day is said to be:
light refracted into blue from oceans...
the night didn't enforce: street lamps give out
such light pollution as to populate the void with stars...
so why the constellations of zodiac disappearing?
how many volts in the sun that you started to care about
energy-saving non-fluorescent piccadilly dead end of neon?
the way i see it, it madonna ice-cream cone bras...
is that the night sky is as 2d as the night sky...
it's so ******* big and wide you might think
an elephant stuck its truck into the **** duct of either ***
and trumpeted a sneeze for an extra expansion...
it's 2d to me... i in dervish couldn't prove i was 2d...
the universe couldn't prove my theory either,
for then i would see it rotate... but i did...
and i did see the background rotate, canvas was big enough
(after all), to allow a 3d stability, but given the 3d stability
also rotated on a ***** (winter in australia, summer in england)
if was all a bit like saying:
you shall not eat from the tree of knowledge -
but we did, and if we didn't,
there would be no excavation of potential,
no evolutionary ingenuity,
we would be beaks and wigs and tails rest assured
unexploited, not ready to delve into a depth that
assured us forks, knives, bridges, microscopes,
we'd be left with a consciousness for the likes of caves...
goo and veil have nothing to do with the case
proposed, god made man in satan's imagine,
and since satan warred with himself, man warred
with man serving a superiority over all things deemed lesser
by him.
which said says as much as:
the exponential evolution of technology
makes 30 year olds seem like grandparents
to the teenagers... which is odd and frankly, a bit funny.

It started twenty years ago
How it came to be here, i do not know,
But slowly it had grown from one
to a colony and then
to multiple colonies
Striving on blood and sugar
      Oh yes, they love human blood and sugar!
They could have lived here forever
Their downfall was their greed
And over expansion,
     when their presence became
     more prevalent and started
     invading more and more space
     making me uncomfortable.
So, the artillery came down heavy on them,
They had to be destroyed
Every single one of them,
First, their food source was cut off
Then, they were annihilated, blasted out of my space,
I feel lighter now and a bit hollow
After all, a couple of decades inside me
I must have drawn some attachment,
But no regrets, the Aliens must go
And they went, not willingly but
Through force and heavy armoury!

Are there ruins in your head?
Where I see treasures
Is there pain in your eyes?
Where I see hue lit sunsets
Is there darkness in your heart?
Where I see fear
Is there a secret in your laughter?
Where I hear tomorrows
Is there deceit in your words?
Where I see promises
Is there armoury in your arms,
Where I find comfort
Is there anything real?
Where I have built air castles
Is there hope?
In those ruins, that pain, darkness, laughter, words, arms,
all that I am hopelessly in love with

Tacos, pulled pork and quesadillas
Garish and gaudy being the clarion call
for the food truck battalion
An armoury of captivating aromas
Savoury propaganda mastered.
The war is won.

This is a wordy piece of prose
Jumping in and out of rhythms.
I hate to be negative of any expression
But this is of no use to anyone.

I am not advocating return to form
But it might help
If you know how it works.
The simple vocabulary

Does not stretch the reader
And the Mystery of Darkness,
Is philosophical rambling
Defunct of elegance.

A consciousness exists
Beyond our understanding,
Seek this, close your eyes
And enter the darkness…

Poetry is more than just
Writing down your thoughts.
Some material needs formality
Of poetic armoury.

And your images? Where are they?
There are all the trappings
Of abstract thought –
But I can’t see no ****** horse.

A man amidst two fools
Is a fool, a big fool
So it's for most of us
Cos' we ditch our dreams
To Paul pry with friends
We forsake our missions
For the flash of friction
With cast of distraction
Today might not really pays
But it's the truest of days
Dare not waste a bit of it
Nor spend a morsel like a spendthrift
Invest thy cowries of time
In companies of focus men
March beside valiant soldiers
That thy victory may come with ease
Friends are thy armoury
Don't battle with the rust of them
Thy friends are thy clothes
Don't suit-up with the rags.

The flame i used to see is gone,
Sighing deeply i ask you,
"am i not good enough anymore?"
The silence and the yawning of the door answers.
"Your eyes are cold and hollow."
still no reply it leaves me to wonder,
How much further till the end of the ride?
Until we confess that the love we once held has died.
finally a pained and drawn out whisper,
"theres no warmth in your embrace"
You say to me on the final day.
"Thats because you beat the flames out.
On sunny days when theres no need for flames,
You took out your armoury and slaughtered me."
Still to this day i bare the marks
Leaving the staining all over my skin.
Leaving me to wonder why?
Leaving me to question how?
Broken and undone i woke and bathed in the sun.
Without you here my side is cold,
But my heart is racing,
Freedom that is ever more intoxicating.

Slice the city into two parts
rub  salt into open wounds
break down the armoury, shell out the sickles
and spikes and bamboo arrows dipped
in poison berries ripe as raspberry juice
and arm the tribes with tentacles
that search for other tribes
lurking in the shadows of the camouflaged blackness
pull 'em out and punish them in broad daylight
take an arm a leg -cut a tongue loose
so words uttered will sound like jungle anecdotes
in a litany of lies.

I will come swinging
with a mascara maiden
and two henchmen trained as axemen
intent on cutting policies of power
into shreds of excuses to remain seated
on a throne of oiled skulls and feather dusters

Take heed, brother
I buy guns for a slot of land infested with rhino
and elephants and diamonds
as big as hippos dipped in strange ****** rhythms
a thousand years old brewing quietly.

We own this land
The white man came in and took it
"He got the land we got the bible"

We must take it back somehow
and sacrifice all of ourselves
in due process.

Slice the land into two chunky pieces
You take one
my mistress takes the other.

She and I are heading West,
into the setting of the sun.
Where,
the day's been filled and the light spills away
and the night makes its bed
that is where we shall stay,and
at my side she'll be there for me
my locked and loaded armoury
riding shotgun.

It cannot be a Sunday
if we're not at church and don't pray
if we're not down on our knees
minding P's and Q's.
I refuse to believe that this day is all we need to feed the inner working of the soul
or
that the dog collared man , by courtesy and intervention of some God we barely know can show me a path better trod.
Sunday
is just another rod to beat me with
another stick,
one more trick in the armoury of magic men who don't know when to quit.

That being said,
I've read the good book,taken a good look at the evidence,weighed up the possibility that if He does exist
I'd be foolish if I missed out because of my doubt.
So
I'm getting dressed now,going to church,listening to the sermon,singing hymns and later down the 'flying fiddle' for a Pimms or two.

Fierce and invisible
Force working Suo moto
Slave when things go bingo
Enslaves you the human ego

The reverse gear to progress
Like the gear essential to live life
Its presence gives the sense of I
Nothing adjourned sine a die

Pendulum swinging between
Depression  Elation & the inbetween
Causes every man made error
Bravado and fear tools used to manouvre

Pin sized injury
Builds up enough Fury
Its its own judge and jury
Words and Actions the weapons in its armoury

Anesthesia of the Brain
Caused when the Ego strained
Relationships thrown under the train
Delusional state it makes us remain

Esteem and Respect
The value it decides
Insult and Injury
In its lacking resides

Fragility its liability
Stability its respectability
Equanimity its tranquility
Duality its quality

Root cause for worry
Removal needs surgery
Surgery called self enquiry
In the Answers lies the finality

Philosophers and Saints
Thinkers and Prophets
Darkness removing wonders
Guiding in the process

AFFIRMATION PRIOR  MENU RAILLERY
/    The Verge Galore  Feminedarlen Ogitres
Utterance ET. . CRAFT LUMINAT LINEAR

Visonettia  distribution rejoining  the holy mundale  ringingly  poemmatic Syndneys beyond the unexplainably  ‘explicit throll’ illium diocesan –of vegetarian et. Province womanhood crayfish the clairvo humanity pluralists –the eye read furrowing immortal ribs-of purer fate gummnation  
The unfathomable classification dogma  vertex   fascillinary the ***-earthen vessels
COUCH BEATITUDESS
ET. Isle Ironing  Stooffly-fye Stirringlys Wikilipaedia  Witchcraft Paypraises-Often Therein The Illumantherapist  Preaching  Echo Signs :
1. Soilage Requll A utum
2. Crankshaft Purrings
3. Mount Zion Poles
4. Carmel Million Rail-of Sailors
5. Armoury  Shed Mid-Wifeory
6. Geovum ‘God Issuantry
7. Re-missionaries Order Clergy Illures/ Pelvic Eleventh Yonderics
8. Darner ARC/Kiosk Kilometer Confluence
9. Visonettia  Agegy ageeeing spades
1o. Brook Rainbow
10. Thyma Across Fountain Figures 360  Vignettes
11. TUC-aLVACADO
12. Prolette: Provincial Program Cohesion seus
13. Uni-EXCUSSION SQUIRRELLS; Fuel Eleganza Ocres
14.Oracle Barbcock Peanuts
15. Barbwire Shielz  ‘poem Prostulatheises
16. Pilgrimage Consummates
17. Core stalf Trivoltry  believing the ‘eagles bounds
18.Unfalteruing pulsars Pose fulcrum /Composaltry the furthering
19. Indulgenergy Scencegy the Thretshold //Indisputable  CO-exoisthergy  Instantaneously CO-GENESIS
2O. Sovereignty Stomata: Outstand Coupon Versatility % TRINITY/ flying Ukrainegy the Trinity Adores-OREGY
http// ***** ODU-DOLLAR SHADES.COM

When I need something.
I will ask you.
But I was never going― to need anything.

From where this―
armoury comes, trying to
influence the vowels, from
the clenched teeth?

When I hold your hand,
you start trembling.
There was mist and
there were walls.

Are we drifting apart―
in search of moons?
Flesh for flesh, bone for bone? You
swim fast, I track on the land.

floody gusts of
            fought up clamoury
amour
      and the gums of our armoury
      that our cravy brain sustains
      mouthing
                              ...guppy

Your ribald sword fades
from view
All that was strong hangs by a thread
My poetry lives just to please you
My song to start the day

My thoughts fjords your armoury
Your eyes are like oceans
My life proceeds your being
Surrender to the wilderness

I know you, love.
    Your face is painted in my memory like a dream so real it was hardly just a dream.
  The realms of dreamers often called upon to make point of the folly fools fancy.

No.

I know you, love.
    Your aching sits within my soul like the sunken ships sit on the bed, caressed by the mother that keeps them until they are nothing but dust and memory.
  I too know of your plans to rip soul from and soul and heart from heart.
        
        But fear not.

This soul of ice you shall not melt or crack and no impeachment of myself will you make.
No birdsong or whispered winds shall carry their secrets to my ears.
No roaring seas or thunderous storms shall find their way through these walls.
The sweet caress of my lovers’ hand upon my face will be nothing but fog and mist in my minds moor, upon which the joy at being found will turn to screams of…


I know you, love.
    For all your cries of war and rage, your armoury and artilleries, your batteries and bombs.
  Like a child, lost in the indecision of duty or desire. In this heart you shall find solace and spirit to ignite the tide of spring and loose the symphonies of birdsong.

I know you, love.
    Your image painted on my soul in a thousand colours still not bright enough. Seeping through my lovers’ cheek against mine while eyes burst with the promise that I have made the right choice.

I know you, love.
    So often mistaken and confused but for the few who know the true you.

I know you, love.

I do.