And thou wert sad—yet I was not with thee!
And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near;
Methought that joy and health alone could be
Where I was not—and pain and sorrow here.
And is it thus?—it is as I foretold,
And shall be more so; for the mind recoils
Upon itself, and the wrecked heart lies cold,
While heaviness collects the shattered spoils.
It is not in the storm nor in the strife
We feel benumbed, and wish to be no more,
But in the after-silence on the shore,
When all is lost, except a little life.

I am too well avenged!—but ’twas my right;
Whate’er my sins might be, thou wert not sent
To be the Nemesis who should requite—
Nor did heaven choose so near an instrument.
Mercy is for the merciful!—if thou
Hast been of such, ’twill be accorded now.
Thy nights are banished from the realms of sleep!—
Yes! they may flatter thee, but thou shalt feel
A hollow agony which will not heal,
For thou art pillowed on a curse too deep;
Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap
The bitter harvest in a woe as real!
I have had many foes, but none like thee;
For ‘gainst the rest myself I could defend,
And be avenged, or turn them into friend;
But thou in safe implacability
Hadst nought to dread—in thy own weakness shielded,
And in my love which hath but too much yielded,
And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare—
And thus upon the world—trust in thy truth—
And the wild fame of my ungoverned youth—
On things that were not, and on things that are—
Even upon such a basis hast thou built
A monument whose cement hath been guilt!
The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord,
And hewed down, with an unsuspected sword,
Fame, peace, and hope—and all the better life
Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart,
Might still have risen from out the grave of strife,
And found a nobler duty than to part.
But of thy virtues didst thou make a vice,
Trafficking with them in a purpose cold,
For present anger, and for future gold—
And buying other’s grief at any price.
And thus once entered into crooked ways,
The early truth, which was thy proper praise,
Did not still walk beside thee—but at times,
And with a breast unknowing its own crimes,
Deceit, averments incompatible,
Equivocations, and the thoughts which dwell
In Janus-spirits—the significant eye
Which learns to lie with silence—the pretext
Of Prudence, with advantages annexed—
The acquiescence in all things which tend,
No matter how, to the desired end—
All found a place in thy philosophy.
The means were worthy, and the end is won—
I would not do by thee as thou hast done!

I've a sinking friendship,
Torpedoed by the *******,
And listing.
The first mate mutinied.
Once a blood brother,
Like no other;
An intimate
At an imminent end,
An alter-ego
More than a friend.

I've been too patient,
Veered off course
With understanding.
I'm quite sure
This Pythias
Would run and leave me
Hanging.

I'm on a cliff
And won't hang on
To a blade of trust,
A fawning pawn.
He had my back,
I turn,
He's gone.

This partisan
Must part
A homeless homeboy,
A dissembling fraud.

No longer a mainstay,
He's insecure,
His equivocations
Make lines blur,
I don't believe
Him anymore.

He really needs a soul-mate,
Classmate, playmate,
But he's become a reprobate,
Lying prostrate,
Lying up straight.
I'll drown my Boswell
In my inkwell;
No longer
An advocate.

The laughs have left,
Yes,
I'm bereft,
But I'll catch the wind.
My course is true.
This friendship
Can't be salvaged.
It's scuttled,
And I won't
Sink with you.

What gives out authenticity
Leaning towards unfiltered reality?
Tell me how can I see
That I and they say is the real me?

A being governed by time
A soul separated from the divine
Annointed keeper of the self
Posturing as the impression of depth.

Indifferent towards the apparent terminus
Compact strides with the daily onus
Drifting on interim spaces
Figuring out the rest of the ages.

She spun a scarf to hide her shamed head
from a silken thread of equivocations
that led her lovers into walls.
She ate from a spoon of clay and earth,
saturated by her tongue
mud in the depths of her bleeding throat
and the towns people said
'May her mendacity lead her into hell's bastille,
may her sins bury her before the breath leaves her lungs.'
and she was silent.
While her judgment day had arrived
and she marched on quietly towards the grave
of the rogue,
I felt her eyes catch mine in the crowd
and I tasted the humanity,
I smelled the anguish.
Sentenced to death by the thirsty fingers
of an un-dead society,
feeding on the remainders of true, unyielding life.
She walked on towards the land of slumber,
a conscious antithesis
of justice.

Serendipity would it be the correct to use that one
Or is it just hallucinations that got me thinking maybe love do exist
Trying to fight a battle that the enemy has already won
              Mind getting disoriented
By every thought that goes    thru
         It..  Contemplating ....
       What is this foreign feeling in my heart and center stomach
                     Right at the center
     Could it be that rare and endangered monster..
            that preys on the weak and
                       Blinded
      Serendipity could that be you bringing LOVE my way
                     What a foreign concept even hearing of it
                Sends chills down my spine
        Such a concept that wins our heart through equivocations
               A blind mind fooled thinking that the rare monster has been brought their way
                     But they fall victim to it's sweet and 'innocent' nemesis LUST
               LUST               LOVE inseparable twins so they say
                      Jumping up and down on a trampoline just before landing into the conclusion that

        Maybe it's 'LO(U)V(S)E(T)
  How can I tell
                     Time will tell
    How much time must pass
                       Time will tell
Disoriented by a monster brought
           By the art of heaven's paragon
                      You are what my heart
        Says you are
                 Should I trust it or ignore it
    Is it LO(U)V(S)E(T).    Paying me a visit again
         And leaving me broken down into a thousand pieces
           Like a molecule
Serendipity is that you
          Knocking at the door
                  Open come in
        Make yourself at home
                  Nice to meet you
What do you have for me this time

Time and circumstance exposed their twisted bodies,
Not caring to ask if I were ready.
I didn’t ask to empathize or recognize a feeling,
That may be leaving as soon as I taste it.
I didn’t ask to be something the wind could have it’s way with,
Someone that hangs on a word and can be debilitated by a look.
I remember welcoming the ground, in search of pennies on the sidewalk.
The way my granny taught me to.
If I had a care, I didn’t feel it there or where it ought be.
All of my concern was in getting back home,
because my feet grew tired,
and my eyes weary of the sandstone;
I wasn’t ready to not stare at the ground.
Somewhere on the dismembered pavement,
I grew up,
looked up,
to see someone locking eyes on the same track,
something was felt and I cannot give it back.
I wish I could.
This feeling,
that I surely did not inherit,
is not interested in my betterment.
I want to be a grifter.
jingle my cup,
make a quick buck,
and say good luck to any fool who dare give me that stare,
that screams for me to give it back.
Because I won’t.
After the last one who dared,
I can’t say I want to be paired,
Impaired,
lost in a circular pool of equivocations and ambiguity.
Forward not backward,
Trusting that I can trust trust.
Or I can trust the sidewalk,
since it will not cease to be,
like you or her or him or me.
I much rather look for pennies,
knowing they won’t look back.

This one word
sums up it all
a collection of events
feelings
rights wronged

Why
I want to know.
give me the reason
why you acted so

Equivocations
not explanations
is what you fed me back
telling me what i wanted to hear
just so id come back

Why,
a question
left unanswered
a need unsatisfied.
I'll come to my own conclusions
to why
you let my heart die

We deserve sounding boards of truth,
Not sponges of deception.

My head is full of lies, equivocations and beguiling stories.
Who can I trust?
The poor?
The limb-lost warrior?
Residents in Cell Block A through Z?
Patients found out but can't breathe.

We must be sound,
And let the voices of truth echo.

She hated lewd offers
but thought, as she fled rationality
there is a deficiency 
a feeling as if
dormice gnawed on her tender heart
unthreading her very being

in the old school
fearless foul mouthed men
with big shoulders and hero's chests
new how to take a woman
so she would lose herself
caring for nothing but
spilling her
clitoral incandescence
into kingdom come

out of the question
was dissolute lust
its quivering equivocations
of undoing and redoing
in a torment of feeling,
as if blood thirsty
disavowing, yet starved for love
like a cry of the void

the feminist

She hated lewd offers
but thought, as she fled rationality

"Taboo and Transgression reflect two contradictory urges"

there is a deficiency
a feeling as if
dormice gnawed on her tender heart
unthreading her very being

"The taboo would forbid
the transgression but the fascination compels it"

in the old school
fearless foul mouthed men
with granite shoulders and hero's chests
knew how to take a woman

"Please Master"
Please master can I touch your cheek
please master can I kneel at your feet

yet she would lose herself
caring for nothing but
the spilling
of her clitoral jeweled incandescence
into kingdom come

mystery woman
with a **** in hand
plays the piccolo
in a hot swing band

out of the question
was dissolute lust
its quivering equivocations
of undoing and redoing
in a torment of feeling,
as if blood thirsty
disavowing, yet starved for love
like a cry of the void

her throat  
a spiral armed galaxy
her heart and ****
hounded moons*

the feminist

May we presume… our duties
- stop reading at any point
- no blame- no claim
- this got some past Pearl Harbor
- laughing,
- at prodigal riches Jus Bellum ******

Quest of the day,
by chance taken,

you feel our shared wish
to know why

the old orders form doctrines dividing

soul and spirit,
ambiguous,
at worst same
which is worse or better
memorializable realizations,
ambivalent, at best… valorous guts

faithful core, sound mind

love enemies, death,
before dishonor.

-girdle of truth, guts.

Gaseous we form, steep, indeed.
Pressure adjust
with a yawn.
Deep Silicate ooze
from some directions.

Every player makes a telling.
Best life on Earth as prayed.

The common story, the court
of public opinion, live
from a mindform retired,
asking -already  asked
by whose authority
may we ask,
must we retell it?
-- I love to tell this story,
of a liar who loved wisdoms
dust motes dancing
in sunbeams

Thou shalt not bear false witness
against thy neighbour.

Close as we found to:
thou shalt not lie…  bear witness

-bear, weigh down on…
take a bead, flat out
lie about a neighbor
on the whole true planet,
that is a wonder
to have being in.

No other's witness, diminutive
visions stretched
to contain paid
attention,

miracle
signum, prodigium, and virtus

see wonderfilled
by leaving
the legend written
on heart discs,
in the cloud…

little white pebbles
to follow, meandering, mean
mental deep significtioncy team
-Hansel's second walk
into these woods, used pebbles
because breadcrumbs get eaten.

Believe me.
We know.
Grimm Ache
to b'com'abit
of worth within
the story re-deveil-ed
uses religious reasoning,

smile, slightly,
at thinking rational
share, taken breath
of life, equal share.

Without money, without price

take and eat, discern the seed,
sow it grow it, eat it your self.

This next part gets steep;
This was not bad so far, same muse
used, but it runs on air, fair excuse.

On Earth, as it is
we live and breathe
and have our being.

Mortal, non eternal being,
brief
seed self soul spirit will
to may perhaps
being sown, so far
so good, living on

past the bone tied to bone,
dry bones, can these bones live,

so will
to prosper manifests
will so

we may imagine we

can, indeed, we can

find just cause
for making peace,
where no peace has yet been,
becoming final mortal form
artful being naturally chaotic
at the bleeding edge, close up.

Zoom out, use your movie eyes, see
from any POV, we are living witnesses,
stirring
up the ashes
of our oughtabins.

experienced
ex + peritus "experienced, tested,"
from PIE *per-yo-, ed form
of root *per- "to try, risk."

Per, 3 of 5, haps we used.
Past tune, tense time tied
experience, re-allied in Truth,

fairly daring my fully armoured soul
to face my informed shapeless spirit.

Laugh, inside, feel the weight, breathe,
and think life all one initialized algorithm,

an I'll go rhythm,
per 1, forward,  
per 2, lead on,
per 3, risk trying
per 4, strikes impression,
per 5, deserves familiarity
"to traffic in, to sell,"
via the per notion
of "to hand over" or "distribute."

steep or deep, as above, so below, yada.
'gotta license per usual ritual yada per
It is the hypothetical source of/
evidence
for its existence is provided by:
Sanskrit aprata
"without recompense,
     gratuitously;" -- no charge, freebie, giveaway

Greek
porne "*******,"
    originally "bought, purchased,"
        per-nanai "to sell;"
             as per usual ritual business trafficked in
          Latin
      pretium
"reward, prize, value, worth;"
         Lithuanian
perku
        "I buy."
<per-#etymonlinev52726>

It forms all or part of:
    appraise;
  appreciate;
depreciate;
interpret;
praise;
  precious;
   price;
     *******.


Moving, characters,
minds we give POV

A personal best, today… I'd say,
if I were another
in my mind.

Reproving experiences.
Legends realized  
At temptation
to test person
hood worth
to the whole weform
informing our swirl
in mind,
in spirit, and in truth,

discernible poetically,
as slight smile feelings thought.
- hum of life around me

The glory of any wine is joy,
our strength is the joy
of eloheem, the host
of heaven as is e
ai, indeed the very spirit
in the idea
first peaceable
indeed mere thought
bought, using patience, pure,
without hesitance,
principle thing
to get the win weform
this wisdom, which is packaged
with understanding,
post experience
we all have access,
in the whole truth package we swore
to tell…
we  define our terms assisted, 't's
bein' how we come
to have these screens,
seen free as far as
we can see,
from many points
of view, seeming fractured
ancient attention spans
creased old folds, sacred
scripture… salted old roles,
form old faded preverbs preserved,
parchments, lacunae, and palimpsests

Spirits from letters let be preserved,
a host of those abide with me,
accounting for sweet hours
in prayer, for sweet hours
in after words, smiling,

We once stood toe to toe
with iniquity himself, and took the bet,
went all in, thinking, I already know.
My side won the ball game,
it is my own head
on the line.

Plural I, laugh inside,
  a we aware peace cheats,
     from war's POV, asks us:
-wombed or un, any man kind,
attempting preverbial believing.

As man hold true at core… die for
true, no lie, tried, and died, deep

Peace, past understanding, hold on,
this goes all night, sometimes.

Who is a wise man and endued
with knowledge among you
let him shew out
of a good conversation his works
with meekness
of wisdom.
---
But if ye have bitter envying and strife
in your hearts, glory not, and lie not
against the truth.

Such wisdom descended not
from above, but [is dark chthonic]
earthly, sensual, devilish.
---- what if devilish meant mm-use-d?

For where envying and strife is ,
there is confusion
as when peace happens
in a mind
on guard
against two things, confusion
and every evil work.

{Feel free to assume all ritual formulae}
Good luck.
No war chants, no bad spirits here.

distant shout
  TOWBRA'

eeha abba embodiable I know
  beauty and truth, ra' Eber memory
  know how

to hold a people
in mind, a we form,
ceremonial memorial muse arousal,
      Those we knew,
who steered us once,
   we find them
in our peaceful rest, long
   moody blues calm, lingering  
    to laugh inside, we knew
the same truth's we made the same peace

when eating fresh fish, beware bones

But Wisdom that is
from above is first pure,
then peaceable,
gentle,
easy
to be intreated, full
of mercy and good fruits,
without partiality, and
without hypocrisy.

Hypocrisy is the art
of affecting qualities
for the purpose
of pretending
to an undeserved virtue.
Because individuals and institutions and societies most often
live down
to the suspicions
about them,
hypocrisy
and its accompanying equivocations
underpin the conduct
of life …on Earth, in orbit
{ed said carry on bear witness}
Imagine how frightful truth
unvarnished
would be.
[Benjamin F. Martin, "France in 1938," 2005]

And the fruit
of right-use-ness is sown
in peace of them that make peace.
James 3:13-18

Used, right, still good. Usable still.