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Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse!
O first-born on the mountains! by the hues
Of heaven on the spiritual air begot:
Long didst thou sit alone in northern grot,
While yet our England was a wolfish den;
Before our forests heard the talk of men;
Before the first of Druids was a child;--
Long didst thou sit amid our regions wild
Rapt in a deep prophetic solitude.
There came an eastern voice of solemn mood:--
Yet wast thou patient. Then sang forth the Nine,
Apollo's garland:--yet didst thou divine
Such home-bred glory, that they cry'd in vain,
"Come hither, Sister of the Island!" Plain
Spake fair Ausonia; and once more she spake
A higher summons:--still didst thou betake
Thee to thy native hopes. O thou hast won
A full accomplishment! The thing is done,
Which undone, these our latter days had risen
On barren souls. Great Muse, thou know'st what prison
Of flesh and bone, curbs, and confines, and frets
Our spirit's wings: despondency besets
Our pillows; and the fresh to-morrow morn
Seems to give forth its light in very scorn
Of our dull, uninspired, snail-paced lives.
Long have I said, how happy he who shrives
To thee! But then I thought on poets gone,
And could not pray:--nor can I now--so on
I move to the end in lowliness of heart.----

  "Ah, woe is me! that I should fondly part
From my dear native land! Ah, foolish maid!
Glad was the hour, when, with thee, myriads bade
Adieu to Ganges and their pleasant fields!
To one so friendless the clear freshet yields
A bitter coolness, the ripe grape is sour:
Yet I would have, great gods! but one short hour
Of native air--let me but die at home."

  Endymion to heaven's airy dome
Was offering up a hecatomb of vows,
When these words reach'd him. Whereupon he bows
His head through thorny-green entanglement
Of underwood, and to the sound is bent,
Anxious as hind towards her hidden fawn.

  "Is no one near to help me? No fair dawn
Of life from charitable voice? No sweet saying
To set my dull and sadden'd spirit playing?
No hand to toy with mine? No lips so sweet
That I may worship them? No eyelids meet
To twinkle on my *****? No one dies
Before me, till from these enslaving eyes
Redemption sparkles!--I am sad and lost."

  Thou, Carian lord, hadst better have been tost
Into a whirlpool. Vanish into air,
Warm mountaineer! for canst thou only bear
A woman's sigh alone and in distress?
See not her charms! Is Phoebe passionless?
Phoebe is fairer far--O gaze no more:--
Yet if thou wilt behold all beauty's store,
Behold her panting in the forest grass!
Do not those curls of glossy jet surpass
For tenderness the arms so idly lain
Amongst them? Feelest not a kindred pain,
To see such lovely eyes in swimming search
After some warm delight, that seems to perch
Dovelike in the dim cell lying beyond
Their upper lids?--Hist!             "O for Hermes' wand
To touch this flower into human shape!
That woodland Hyacinthus could escape
From his green prison, and here kneeling down
Call me his queen, his second life's fair crown!
Ah me, how I could love!--My soul doth melt
For the unhappy youth--Love! I have felt
So faint a kindness, such a meek surrender
To what my own full thoughts had made too tender,
That but for tears my life had fled away!--
Ye deaf and senseless minutes of the day,
And thou, old forest, hold ye this for true,
There is no lightning, no authentic dew
But in the eye of love: there's not a sound,
Melodious howsoever, can confound
The heavens and earth in one to such a death
As doth the voice of love: there's not a breath
Will mingle kindly with the meadow air,
Till it has panted round, and stolen a share
Of passion from the heart!"--

                              Upon a bough
He leant, wretched. He surely cannot now
Thirst for another love: O impious,
That he can even dream upon it thus!--
Thought he, "Why am I not as are the dead,
Since to a woe like this I have been led
Through the dark earth, and through the wondrous sea?
Goddess! I love thee not the less: from thee
By Juno's smile I turn not--no, no, no--
While the great waters are at ebb and flow.--
I have a triple soul! O fond pretence--
For both, for both my love is so immense,
I feel my heart is cut in twain for them."

  And so he groan'd, as one by beauty slain.
The lady's heart beat quick, and he could see
Her gentle ***** heave tumultuously.
He sprang from his green covert: there she lay,
Sweet as a muskrose upon new-made hay;
With all her limbs on tremble, and her eyes
Shut softly up alive. To speak he tries.
"Fair damsel, pity me! forgive that I
Thus violate thy bower's sanctity!
O pardon me, for I am full of grief--
Grief born of thee, young angel! fairest thief!
Who stolen hast away the wings wherewith
I was to top the heavens. Dear maid, sith
Thou art my executioner, and I feel
Loving and hatred, misery and weal,
Will in a few short hours be nothing to me,
And all my story that much passion slew me;
Do smile upon the evening of my days:
And, for my tortur'd brain begins to craze,
Be thou my nurse; and let me understand
How dying I shall kiss that lily hand.--
Dost weep for me? Then should I be content.
Scowl on, ye fates! until the firmament
Outblackens Erebus, and the full-cavern'd earth
Crumbles into itself. By the cloud girth
Of Jove, those tears have given me a thirst
To meet oblivion."--As her heart would burst
The maiden sobb'd awhile, and then replied:
"Why must such desolation betide
As that thou speakest of? Are not these green nooks
Empty of all misfortune? Do the brooks
Utter a gorgon voice? Does yonder thrush,
Schooling its half-fledg'd little ones to brush
About the dewy forest, whisper tales?--
Speak not of grief, young stranger, or cold snails
Will slime the rose to night. Though if thou wilt,
Methinks 'twould be a guilt--a very guilt--
Not to companion thee, and sigh away
The light--the dusk--the dark--till break of day!"
"Dear lady," said Endymion, "'tis past:
I love thee! and my days can never last.
That I may pass in patience still speak:
Let me have music dying, and I seek
No more delight--I bid adieu to all.
Didst thou not after other climates call,
And murmur about Indian streams?"--Then she,
Sitting beneath the midmost forest tree,
For pity sang this roundelay------

          "O Sorrow,
          Why dost borrow
The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?--
          To give maiden blushes
          To the white rose bushes?
Or is it thy dewy hand the daisy tips?

          "O Sorrow,
          Why dost borrow
The lustrous passion from a falcon-eye?--
          To give the glow-worm light?
          Or, on a moonless night,
To tinge, on syren shores, the salt sea-spry?

          "O Sorrow,
          Why dost borrow
The mellow ditties from a mourning tongue?--
          To give at evening pale
          Unto the nightingale,
That thou mayst listen the cold dews among?

          "O Sorrow,
          Why dost borrow
Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?--
          A lover would not tread
          A cowslip on the head,
Though he should dance from eve till peep of day--
          Nor any drooping flower
          Held sacred for thy bower,
Wherever he may sport himself and play.

          "To Sorrow
          I bade good-morrow,
And thought to leave her far away behind;
          But cheerly, cheerly,
          She loves me dearly;
She is so constant to me, and so kind:
          I would deceive her
          And so leave her,
But ah! she is so constant and so kind.

"Beneath my palm trees, by the river side,
I sat a weeping: in the whole world wide
There was no one to ask me why I wept,--
          And so I kept
Brimming the water-lily cups with tears
          Cold as my fears.

"Beneath my palm trees, by the river side,
I sat a weeping: what enamour'd bride,
Cheated by shadowy wooer from the clouds,
        But hides and shrouds
Beneath dark palm trees by a river side?

"And as I sat, over the light blue hills
There came a noise of revellers: the rills
Into the wide stream came of purple hue--
        'Twas Bacchus and his crew!
The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills
From kissing cymbals made a merry din--
        'Twas Bacchus and his kin!
Like to a moving vintage down they came,
Crown'd with green leaves, and faces all on flame;
All madly dancing through the pleasant valley,
        To scare thee, Melancholy!
O then, O then, thou wast a simple name!
And I forgot thee, as the berried holly
By shepherds is forgotten, when, in June,
Tall chesnuts keep away the sun and moon:--
        I rush'd into the folly!

"Within his car, aloft, young Bacchus stood,
Trifling his ivy-dart, in dancing mood,
        With sidelong laughing;
And little rills of crimson wine imbrued
His plump white arms, and shoulders, enough white
        For Venus' pearly bite;
And near him rode Silenus on his ***,
Pelted with flowers as he on did pass
        Tipsily quaffing.

"Whence came ye, merry Damsels! whence came ye!
So many, and so many, and such glee?
Why have ye left your bowers desolate,
        Your lutes, and gentler fate?--
‘We follow Bacchus! Bacchus on the wing?
        A conquering!
Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide,
We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide:--
Come hither, lady fair, and joined be
        To our wild minstrelsy!'

"Whence came ye, jolly Satyrs! whence came ye!
So many, and so many, and such glee?
Why have ye left your forest haunts, why left
        Your nuts in oak-tree cleft?--
‘For wine, for wine we left our kernel tree;
For wine we left our heath, and yellow brooms,
        And cold mushrooms;
For wine we follow Bacchus through the earth;
Great God of breathless cups and chirping mirth!--
Come hither, lady fair, and joined be
To our mad minstrelsy!'

"Over wide streams and mountains great we went,
And, save when Bacchus kept his ivy tent,
Onward the tiger and the leopard pants,
        With Asian elephants:
Onward these myriads--with song and dance,
With zebras striped, and sleek Arabians' prance,
Web-footed alligators, crocodiles,
Bearing upon their scaly backs, in files,
Plump infant laughers mimicking the coil
Of ******, and stout galley-rowers' toil:
With toying oars and silken sails they glide,
        Nor care for wind and tide.

"Mounted on panthers' furs and lions' manes,
From rear to van they scour about the plains;
A three days' journey in a moment done:
And always, at the rising of the sun,
About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn,
        On spleenful unicorn.

"I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown
        Before the vine-wreath crown!
I saw parch'd Abyssinia rouse and sing
        To the silver cymbals' ring!
I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce
        Old Tartary the fierce!
The kings of Inde their jewel-sceptres vail,
And from their treasures scatter pearled hail;
Great Brahma from his mystic heaven groans,
        And all his priesthood moans;
Before young Bacchus' eye-wink turning pale.--
Into these regions came I following him,
Sick hearted, weary--so I took a whim
To stray away into these forests drear
        Alone, without a peer:
And I have told thee all thou mayest hear.

          "Young stranger!
          I've been a ranger
In search of pleasure throughout every clime:
          Alas! 'tis not for me!
          Bewitch'd I sure must be,
To lose in grieving all my maiden prime.

          "Come then, Sorrow!
          Sweetest Sorrow!
Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast:
          I thought to leave thee
          And deceive thee,
But now of all the world I love thee best.

          "There is not one,
          No, no, not one
But thee to comfort a poor lonely maid;
          Thou art her mother,
          And her brother,
Her playmate, and her wooer in the shade."

  O what a sigh she gave in finishing,
And look, quite dead to every worldly thing!
Endymion could not speak, but gazed on her;
And listened to the wind that now did stir
About the crisped oaks full drearily,
Yet with as sweet a softness as might be
Remember'd from its velvet summer song.
At last he said: "Poor lady, how thus long
Have I been able to endure that voice?
Fair Melody! kind Syren! I've no choice;
I must be thy sad servant evermore:
I cannot choose but kneel here and adore.
Alas, I must not think--by Phoebe, no!
Let me not think, soft Angel! shall it be so?
Say, beautifullest, shall I never think?
O thou could'st foster me beyond the brink
Of recollection! make my watchful care
Close up its bloodshot eyes, nor see despair!
Do gently ****** half my soul, and I
Shall feel the other half so utterly!--
I'm giddy at that cheek so fair and smooth;
O let it blush so ever! let it soothe
My madness! let it mantle rosy-warm
With the tinge of love, panting in safe alarm.--
This cannot be thy hand, and yet it is;
And this is sure thine other softling--this
Thine own fair *****, and I am so near!
Wilt fall asleep? O let me sip that tear!
And whisper one sweet word that I may know
This is this world--sweet dewy blossom!"--Woe!
Woe! Woe to that Endymion! Where is he?--
Even these words went echoing dismally
Through the wide forest--a most fearful tone,
Like one repenting in his latest moan;
And while it died away a shade pass'd by,
As of a thunder cloud. When arrows fly
Through the thick branches, poor ring-doves sleek forth
Their timid necks and tremble; so these both
Leant to each other trembling, and sat so
Waiting for some destruction--when lo,
Foot-fe
Locksley Hall

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 't is early morn:
Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle-horn.

'T is the place, and all around it, as of old, the curlews call,
Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over Locksley Hall;

Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the sandy tracts,
And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into cataracts.

Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went to rest,
Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West.

Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow shade,
Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid.

Here about the beach I wander'd, nourishing a youth sublime
With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time;

When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed;
When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed:

When I dipt into the future far as human eye could see;
Saw the Vision of the world and all the wonder that would be.--

In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast;
In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest;

In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove;
In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

Then her cheek was pale and thinner than should be for one so young,
And her eyes on all my motions with a mute observance hung.

And I said, "My cousin Amy, speak, and speak the truth to me,
Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being sets to thee."

On her pallid cheek and forehead came a colour and a light,
As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the northern night.

And she turn'd--her ***** shaken with a sudden storm of sighs--
All the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of hazel eyes--

Saying, "I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do me wrong";
Saying, "Dost thou love me, cousin?" weeping, "I have loved thee long."

Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands;
Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.

Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might;
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.

Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring,
And her whisper throng'd my pulses with the fulness of the Spring.

Many an evening by the waters did we watch the stately ships,
And our spirits rush'd together at the touching of the lips.

O my cousin, shallow-hearted! O my Amy, mine no more!
O the dreary, dreary moorland! O the barren, barren shore!

Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser than all songs have sung,
Puppet to a father's threat, and servile to a shrewish tongue!

Is it well to wish thee happy?--having known me--to decline
On a range of lower feelings and a narrower heart than mine!

Yet it shall be; thou shalt lower to his level day by day,
What is fine within thee growing coarse to sympathize with clay.

As the husband is, the wife is: thou art mated with a clown,
And the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down.

He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force,
Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.

What is this? his eyes are heavy; think not they are glazed with wine.
Go to him, it is thy duty, kiss him, take his hand in thine.

It may be my lord is weary, that his brain is overwrought:
Soothe him with thy finer fancies, touch him with thy lighter thought.

He will answer to the purpose, easy things to understand--
Better thou wert dead before me, tho' I slew thee with my hand!

Better thou and I were lying, hidden from the heart's disgrace,
Roll'd in one another's arms, and silent in a last embrace.

Cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth!
Cursed be the social lies that warp us from the living truth!

Cursed be the sickly forms that err from honest Nature's rule!
Cursed be the gold that gilds the straiten'd forehead of the fool!

Well--'t is well that I should bluster!--Hadst thou less unworthy proved--
Would to God--for I had loved thee more than ever wife was loved.

Am I mad, that I should cherish that which bears but bitter fruit?
I will pluck it from my *****, tho' my heart be at the root.

Never, tho' my mortal summers to such length of years should come
As the many-winter'd crow that leads the clanging rookery home.

Where is comfort? in division of the records of the mind?
Can I part her from herself, and love her, as I knew her, kind?

I remember one that perish'd; sweetly did she speak and move;
Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was to love.

Can I think of her as dead, and love her for the love she bore?
No--she never loved me truly; love is love for evermore.

Comfort? comfort scorn'd of devils! this is truth the poet sings,
That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.

Drug thy memories, lest thou learn it, lest thy heart be put to proof,
In the dead unhappy night, and when the rain is on the roof.

Like a dog, he hunts in dreams, and thou art staring at the wall,
Where the dying night-lamp flickers, and the shadows rise and fall.

Then a hand shall pass before thee, pointing to his drunken sleep,
To thy widow'd marriage-pillows, to the tears that thou wilt weep.

Thou shalt hear the "Never, never," whisper'd by the phantom years,
And a song from out the distance in the ringing of thine ears;

And an eye shall vex thee, looking ancient kindness on thy pain.
Turn thee, turn thee on thy pillow; get thee to thy rest again.

Nay, but Nature brings thee solace; for a tender voice will cry.
'T is a purer life than thine, a lip to drain thy trouble dry.

Baby lips will laugh me down; my latest rival brings thee rest.
Baby fingers, waxen touches, press me from the mother's breast.

O, the child too clothes the father with a dearness not his due.
Half is thine and half is his: it will be worthy of the two.

O, I see thee old and formal, fitted to thy petty part,
With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter's heart.

"They were dangerous guides the feelings--she herself was not exempt--
Truly, she herself had suffer'd"--Perish in thy self-contempt!

Overlive it--lower yet--be happy! wherefore should I care?
I myself must mix with action, lest I wither by despair.

What is that which I should turn to, lighting upon days like these?
Every door is barr'd with gold, and opens but to golden keys.

Every gate is throng'd with suitors, all the markets overflow.
I have but an angry fancy; what is that which I should do?

I had been content to perish, falling on the foeman's ground,
When the ranks are roll'd in vapour, and the winds are laid with sound.

But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honour feels,
And the nations do but murmur, snarling at each other's heels.

Can I but relive in sadness? I will turn that earlier page.
Hide me from my deep emotion, O thou wondrous Mother-Age!

Make me feel the wild pulsation that I felt before the strife,
When I heard my days before me, and the tumult of my life;

Yearning for the large excitement that the coming years would yield,
Eager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his father's field,

And at night along the dusky highway near and nearer drawn,
Sees in heaven the light of London flaring like a dreary dawn;

And his spirit leaps within him to be gone before him then,
Underneath the light he looks at, in among the throngs of men:

Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new:
That which they have done but earnest of the things that they shall do:

For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see,
Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be;

Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails,
Pilots of the purple twilight dropping down with costly bales;

Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain'd a ghastly dew
From the nations' airy navies grappling in the central blue;

Far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm,
With the standards of the peoples plunging thro' the thunder-storm;

Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battle-flags were furl'd
In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world.

There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe,
And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law.

So I triumph'd ere my passion sweeping thro' me left me dry,
Left me with the palsied heart, and left me with the jaundiced eye;

Eye, to which all order festers, all things here are out of joint:
Science moves, but slowly, slowly, creeping on from point to point:

Slowly comes a hungry people, as a lion, creeping nigher,
Glares at one that nods and winks behind a slowly-dying fire.

Yet I doubt not thro' the ages one increasing purpose runs,
And the thoughts of men are widen'd with the process of the suns.

What is that to him that reaps not harvest of his youthful joys,
Tho' the deep heart of existence beat for ever like a boy's?

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore,
And the individual withers, and the world is more and more.

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and he bears a laden breast,
Full of sad experience, moving toward the stillness of his rest.

Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the bugle-horn,
They to whom my foolish passion were a target for their scorn:

Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a moulder'd string?
I am shamed thro' all my nature to have loved so slight a thing.

Weakness to be wroth with weakness! woman's pleasure, woman's pain--
Nature made them blinder motions bounded in a shallower brain:

Woman is the lesser man, and all thy passions, match'd with mine,
Are as moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto wine--

Here at least, where nature sickens, nothing. Ah, for some retreat
Deep in yonder shining Orient, where my life began to beat;

Where in wild Mahratta-battle fell my father evil-starr'd,--
I was left a trampled orphan, and a selfish uncle's ward.

Or to burst all links of habit--there to wander far away,
On from island unto island at the gateways of the day.

Larger constellations burning, mellow moons and happy skies,
Breadths of tropic shade and palms in cluster, knots of Paradise.

Never comes the trader, never floats an European flag,
Slides the bird o'er lustrous woodland, swings the trailer from the crag;

Droops the heavy-blossom'd bower, hangs the heavy-fruited tree--
Summer isles of Eden lying in dark-purple spheres of sea.

There methinks would be enjoyment more than in this march of mind,
In the steamship, in the railway, in the thoughts that shake mankind.

There the passions cramp'd no longer shall have scope and breathing space;
I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.

Iron-jointed, supple-sinew'd, they shall dive, and they shall run,
Catch the wild goat by the hair, and hurl their lances in the sun;

Whistle back the parrot's call, and leap the rainbows of the brooks,
Not with blinded eyesight poring over miserable books--

Fool, again the dream, the fancy! but I know my words are wild,
But I count the gray barbarian lower than the Christian child.

I, to herd with narrow foreheads, vacant of our glorious gains,
Like a beast with lower pleasures, like a beast with lower pains!

Mated with a squalid savage--what to me were sun or clime?
I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time--

I that rather held it better men should perish one by one,
Than that earth should stand at gaze like Joshua's moon in Ajalon!

Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range,
Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.

Thro' the shadow of the globe we sweep into the younger day;
Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.

Mother-Age (for mine I knew not) help me as when life begun:
Rift the hills, and roll the waters, flash the lightnings, weigh the Sun.

O, I see the crescent promise of my spirit hath not set.
Ancient founts of inspiration well thro' all my fancy yet.

Howsoever these things be, a long farewell to Locksley Hall!
Now for me the woods may wither, now for me the roof-tree fall.

Comes a vapour from the margin, blackening over heath and holt,
Cramming all the blast before it, in its breast a thunderbolt.

Let it fall on Locksley Hall, with rain or hail, or fire or snow;
For the mighty wind arises, roaring seaward, and I go.
R Arora Dec 2015
This world, that we live in,
Is not at all less.
It is full of lies
And a lot of mess.
The innocent being abducted,
The honest being convicted,
There’s no ray of hope,
In this world,
Of untruthful, slimy *****.

It is so not possible,
To climb back up,
Because the world,
Is constantly trying,
To pull you back down,
In this ditch,
So that alone they do not drown.
This is what
You have to watch out for.



Everybody is selfish;
Nobody is yours,
Except your family.
Who is always there;
Even in wars.

People are bad,
And will always be,
You have to survive,
With dear ones to your support,
You have to thrive.
Go on, who stops you?
But watch out for these traitors:
That will always be near you.
Looking for a potential prey,
Every single day.
They will treat you nicely at first,
On cloud nine,
They will make you fly,
But what comes later,
Is something impalpable.
Falling through a canopy,
Into a trench that is
Unfathomable.


Come on! You have to get up:
Be strong,
You have to catch up!
This not the end,
But the beginning,
Of your story.
A story,
That will one day be exemplary,
For all,
In this howsoever bad world.

Success will follow you,
If you follow struggle;
This struggle will become obsession;
Obsession, your passion.
And passion is unstoppable.

That very day,
When you know your goal very evidently,
And the journey is your pal,
Nobody can stop you,
From being on top of the world.
And this time,
Nobody’s going to push you
Because on top,
You will be
All alone.
Àŧùl May 2021
I survived a life-threatening,
Coma-inducing & memory-debilating
High-speed road accident in May ‘10.
I survived COVID12,
The SARS-COV12.
Now I even survived COVID19.
I, howsoever, know what I am.
I am a mortal. Perishable.
My HP Poem #1929
©Atul Kaushal
solEmn oaSis Oct 2020
when in the wilderness,* then the portal seems so long and wide
no matter how heavy the distance is, let go of your deepest sigh ...
at the signal of the time, the wounded mind will exhile in the heart and heal any sore!
because for every success is worth the celebration!
no matter how big or small
even when the lines are not rhyming anymore!

do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, do not let your words slip,
express how you feel by looking up or kneeling.
and when you hold your pen and its loose ink ...
kindly convey your thoughts to a lifetime place that can grow around different corners!
someday,
howsoever ...
selfishness can correct the colorless mixture of fire and water
covered by heaven and Earth
and made thru the collision of Love and hatred
until a massive light fades, and obscures the limit of fading *views
detour to }!{ my alter ego!
when my own familiar world lost inside my left brain
but boldly came out to face
what is parallel with
unknown right in my future reality!
Look no further than yourself,
be your own lamp
your own refuge.

The rain washed sky found a mirror in his eyes.

Yet for some time as the end neared
he was hearing an echo
from the deep well of nirvana
urging his weary feet toward a home
his aeons ago.

The frail bones feeling the pull
drove his weary feet through rains
to be on that land one last time.

Look no further
for howsoever long is the journey
must come to an end at home.

That night as he lay under the śāl tree
they strained to hear him whisper

All composite things decay,
strive diligently.
Gautama Buddha
Àŧùl Oct 2016
Where would you go,
Stopping I am not,
Go if you want to go,
Remembering me you are not,
As I'm not interested,
Wishing you quicker recovery,
Wherever you'll fall,
Caring I am not,
Just go if you wanna go.

Because lonelier you left me here,
You better need not to come ever,
I have earlier survived alone as well,
You weren't here near my deathlike bed,
There had been both of my parents,
Only expecting me as a robot in return,
And I found you absent when I needed,
Oh this is only the revelation of my life,
Such a fool I expected you to be my wife.

Now I can imagine what I was spared from,
I was spared from the splitter-splatter stuff,
And of course the kitchen's blitter-blatter bluff,
Because I am sure that I can prepare better food,
Much better than your fickle-minded self could,
Lovelier is my hand's company to my big head,
I imagine stuff and fantasize howsoever it feels fit,
And of course, I don't need your help for that,
I just go fap-fap, splitter-splatter & blitter-blatter.
A super-naughty poem!

HP Poem #1217
©Atul Kaushal
Chandra S Nov 2019
As you lie on the creaky hospital cot,
there is a lot that can be thought
by listening to the uneven, rapid wheeze
and by looking at the hitherto unseen pallor
of your otherwise ruddy cheeks......

Many (im)possibilities can be perceived;
that a father I may never be;
that my father may never be
the same with me;
that you may well have entered
the last lap
in your race for that ever elusive
qualifying tag;
that come what may, one day
you shall really be a non-entity
and there may be only me
to see you lying limp and lifeless
just as you now seem to be......

Perceptions may not be real.
The only reality, is a single soul searching query:
Does any materialist passion
or for that matter, a self-effacing spiritualism,
allow anyone to cause the demise of the one
still huddled up in that warm,
allegedly safe darkness of anonymity?

Isn't a human life, howsoever insignificant it be might,
too much a price to pay
for even the rarest gain...
in this provisional little world
of putty clay?
Inspired by an abortion
ajit patel Mar 2016
Devi is an ocean.

standing on the beach,
ocean does not affect me,
is completely indifferent ,
howsoever deeply I love being there,
the wetness has not touched me!

To truly know the ocean
enjoy it I need to immerse myself,
and go deep diving so see its true beauty.
Ocean will still not care who I am,
but know I will be a changed person.
Darsshan Nair Jun 2023
Whatever trial and tribulation would breathe upon my neck,
However difficult the path ahead may be,
Whichever hurdles attempt to arrest me,
Howsoever the riddles of life befuddle me,

All these challenges,
All the laws of men,
Will never cease away the moments of happiness you have given me,
Will never dull the figments of blissful memories you have created with me,

Forever within me shall they remain,
Till the tides, and the winds, favour me no longer.
Àŧùl Feb 2017
Whether you come,
Or you do not,
I will survive,
Yes I will thrive.

Howsoever be the measure,
There won't be any pressure.
As you are connected to me,
And I am committed to you.
Whether you come,
Or you do not,
I will survive,
Would I thrive?

What fun will be my life,
Without you as my wife,
What life will be my life,
Each moment punishes.
So you should come,
Now you do,
I will survive,
Then I'll thrive.
Translation of my fourth Hindi language song.
The song called 'Tu Aaye' is translated herein.

My HP Poem #1410
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Apr 2017
Whatever may cometh,
You carry on, oh sailor!
Whatever you may lose,
Move on, oh dear sailor!

Oh, I swear by myself,
And I do not utter lies.

Carry the memories along,
To the umpteenth furlong.
May them be good or bad,
Just prize it what you had.

Oh, I swear by myself,
And I do not utter lies.

Howsoever may be the day,
You have to move on today.
What you'll get in your life,
You'll play the relaxed fife.

Oh I swear by myself,
And I do not utter lies.

Whatever may cometh,
You carry on, oh sailor!
Whatever you may lose,
Move on, oh dear sailor!
My HP Poem #1504
©Atul Kaushal
Salty sweat gets into them
My eyeballs cry
They aren’t enjoying this game
Howsoever they try.
It’s so mean
I mean the heat
Outside and within
It burns like ****.
The sky bears no blue
And it has no clue
When rain will come
The cloud-pressed balm
To turn this hell’s hearth
Once more a soothing earth!
With my thoughts a seething mess
My mind in clumsy distress
I’ve no way but to hold on
My breath in the boiling cauldron!
Àŧùl Sep 2017
We have to defeat our grief,
And we have to make love,
Howsoever it may be brief.

I want you to feel free,
Right now and whenever,
Especially when you are with me.

I can see your beautiful potential,
I see your ***** and am turned on,
I feel that between us not these feelings but love is preferential.
For my newfound source of inspiration

I know that you will feel elated after reading this.

My HP Poem #1666
©Atul Kaushal
Loved have I you more than me
If you get it,o get it priya
My world has separated me
If you see,o see priya!
On every road
Every crossing
Your memories
Stop me
Everywhere
Is your touch
Loved have I you more than me
If you get it,o get it priya

I was alone a lonely bird
You extended your hand
Called and brought me
O you taught me
Such giving
O howsoever I try
Can't forget you,can't ,O priya!

O my mind is today
So unstable
Without you
Am I empty
O in my chest
Smoke unknown
Fills up!
Loved have I you more than me
If you get it,o get it priya
O the path doesn't end
The feet move on
I feel really
I have lost
The address
O the night doesn't end
Dreams don't come
O I doesn't know
How many moons
Of tears
O yesterday
Was my love
Today it
Feels so far
O the touch
Of memories
Unending !
Loved have I you more than me
If you get it,o get it priya!
Priya is related to Indic languages(some).
Find out if you love them!
Those outstretched arms upon the Cross
beckon to you their embrace;
not as a thrall loth to return to cruel master,
but as a child fain towards his father!

Howsoever far we fall from the path,
the yearning of nail-pierced hands calls.
Amidst hateful sin and wrothfulness,
we comprehend not such unwarranted mercy.
Inspired by Kristin Lavransdatter.
'Pon this grand Stage we call "Life,"
t'is up to you, and only you,
to be a Character,
or to otherwise sink
into a stagnant state,
being just another Extra.

Which will you choose?
I know I've chosen:
seize what days I have.

You can be banal,
it's easy and unrewarding;
set up for yourself
a mundane Life;
letting each day
pass evermore begrudgingly
as redundant iterations and projections
of your own uninteresting Mind,
or,
you can defy that lull of Life,
you can deviate from the herd
you can be an exquisite piece of Art-
created by the very act of existing,
moderately uncompromisingly,
howsoever that happens to be
that you, alone, desire.

(Anyone seeking so much as to try
to stop, limit or discourage you
is unhealthy for your potential)

Will you find yourself
on the long list
of names so long forgotten,
or will you be
remembered, forevermore,
by thy peers?

Tell me, Self,
I'm curious:
which shall be thy choice:
a Path of a Character,
or that of a mere Extra?

Better still,
because talk is so cheap,
so superfluous:
show me.

Show me.

Show me who you truly are.
I want to be unable to disbelieve.

I refuse to be an Extra
in the story of my own Life.
I refuse to be an Extra
if I have any say in the matter.

Would you?
Do you?
Are you?

Well, show me:
we shall see.
Seek not to be the best
because thy technique is kept secret.
Rather, seek to be the best
by applying it howsoever is seen fit.

Seek but thy own technique.
It shall be the best for thee.

Yes,
that means
being self-aware and creative.
Yes,
that means
teaching thyself
at each and every opportunity.
Yes,
temporary failure is inevitable,
but welcome such opportunities:
they are only what are made of them.

For:
with perseverance,
what abundance may be found
forewent by others.

One who finds One's self
transcends much inner struggle,
and is free to be.

Learn, copy, study,
do whatsoever it takes;
just, please, say ye will
walk away from everything
with anything,
rather than
as something.

Read between the lines.

Seek to do so all the time,
because I think that One shall find
elusory, seductive peace of mind
awaits us all so patiently there.

Fear not
to dream on:
be thyself,
wheresoever it may take thee.

All else be naught shy of Cowardice, I daresay!
Àŧùl Jul 2020
1857 was some years older,
Bhaaratvarsh was still a slave.

No Hïnđū king after Śïvājī had been bolder,
None dared guerrilla attacks from a mountain cave.

No Hïnđū queen after Läkšmībāī was braver,
None consumed the patriotism wine agave.

Mughal or howsoever other tyrannical kings were,
The Colonial Age was worse and it was a blur.

Bhāräŧ knows how to make things better,
And I am sure about this administrator.

Mōđī Jī is as focused as a recluse,
And Yōgī Jī tolerates not a traitor.

Shāh Jī is the best strategist,
And the team is just perfect.

Smřŧï auntie is the best counsellor,
An example she is of the pink power.

Rājnāŧh Jī is the best caretaker,
Wise old man for the nation.

Doctor Härśvärđhän is now elevated,
He heads the World Health Organization.

Coronavirus and its disease, COVID19,
Originated in MainlandChina.

Extinction, it is threatening,
Now we all turn to Hïnđū values.

Sänāŧän Đhärmä is very scientific,
The blind faith belongs to aggressors.

The oldest **** sapiens sapiens,
In Jharkhand state, you will find its remains.

They say that history repeats itself,
Rām Rājyä beckons once again.
A tribute to the great Government of India.
We elected a good set of administrators.
Now have faith in Narendra Modi Ji and his handling of the COVID19 pandemic crisis.

My HP Poem #1867
©Atul Kaushal
Howsoever it may look,
it may sound,
But no other way till date,
I have  found.

For tasting the heaven,
the God's domain,
Give up the counting ,
what loss or Gain.

For God is not  loss and
  benifit you count,
Nor he can be bought
what be the  amount.

You hear the sound  ,
the whistle of train,
But never you find,
the whistle of train.

If candle will try,
for catching  the heat ,
And music will try for,
catching drum beat.

Can cloud get success,
in catching the rain?
And can a bird find,
sky the empty terrain.?

Like fish never fathom,
what water what sea,
And fruit  seldom find,
  the bud and the tree.

For  a Fish  is in  water,
and a bird in  sky,
Sea cannot be found  ,
whatever fish   try.

As breathing not separate
from body from life,
And  family  just dependent
on  part of a  wife.

God' business is different,
and different his way,
He is closest  of the  closest,
and still far away.

A man is not separate,
nor different from God,
No question disecting ,
the source with a sword.

The Proof  of heaven is ,
within you my friend,
Just venture your search,
in your heart's terrain.

Ajay Amitabh Suman
A man keeps on looking for God in whole of the world, but seldom succeed in his effort. His effort is  just like a fish looking to find the sea and a bird try to find out the sky. It is very difficult for them to find the sea and sky. In fact fish and bird are imseparable part of the sea and the sky. The only path is to took within themselves. Similar is the situation with Man. Man and God are not separate. When a man starts looking within, it will find the proof of heaven, ultimate abode of the God.
Àŧùl Sep 2016
Beyond life and death,
Away from the concept of right and wrong,
In the field of unknown,
Amidst the feelings I get in loneliness,
Running away from suicidal thoughts,
Memories of lost love haunt me hard,
Death seems like the perfect option.

I know that I can't give up until they are there,
Howsoever short may be life.
My HP Poem #1132
©Atul Kaushal
Jayantee Khare Aug 2019

In the tempest,
praying for the best
the hopes float
on a small boat
steered by the trust and patience
love and acceptance...
Time and distance hardly matter
hope the things get better
the normalcy gets the track
the happy times will surely come back,
till then the finger are crossed
praying the lord
to let me remind that
Temperory is this helplessness
Howsoever I miss "us"
"this too shall pass!"
Yes
"This too shall pass!!"


When the separation from loved one knocks the heart....
Seek always to leave the World a better place than you found it,
howsoever it so happens that you go about it;
all else is Sin.
Howsoever you shall now enter me,
I still shall not know what to do with thee,
You of fearsome spirituality,
You beauty! Stuns and paralyzes me!

Wherefore placed on Earth you of stolen divine,
Who numbs me as intoxicating wine?
You are unique to me but are not mine.
You beauty! No Sun shall ever outshine!

Who is the artist to whom you belong?
Drawn perfect lines and no color wrong!
I was born wanting and for you I long.
You beauty! Who makes weak knees of the strong!

Kiss me through the day and into the night!
Without you what need have I for my sight?
But for you I’d have no poems to write,
You beauty! My inspiration! My light!
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Sahil Sharma Nov 2018
Rigid and patient, the untold story of the wall..
You'll not be alone, it will always stay tall..
It won't leak your secrets, howsoever small..
Paint with your favourite colour and erase gall..
Hang photoframes, which you bought from mall..
Size may differ,but job is same for hut and hall..
Whether sun aur wind, it will revolt against all..
Shielding you from every strange eye ball..
Caring an introvert,no doubt of slave or thrall..
Starring at silent lips , eyes shedding water fall..
In solitude, it'll listen your screaming call..
And it will surround you in every rise and fall..
Jayantee Khare Jan 2019

Years pass
not the pains
Howsoever one tries
the yearning remains...

The heart and the mind
they often cross
Their memories surpass
Irrecoverable is the soul loss...


Just a thought.. Inspired by turning the calender...
Surbhi Dadhich Jan 2019
I break in with the initial thought
That no part of me was wrong
Even though icy coldness drapes me in
Throwing splashes of regret and guilt
I shave off goosebumps, wet sweat
My forehead twinges as pre threat
Tears trickle down yet intactly
Am I still arrogant and haughty?
Everything of me was purely wrong
It's howsoever isn't a breakthrough
Frost nights can merely convey lesson
Let's not do it tomorrow
That lean in before it leaves..
Those green pastures that go on forever,
Seemingly endless space for life to grow,
Expansive home for life howsoever,
Every variety that God could know.

To lie in company of blades of grass,
Cool and light like the clouds above my head,
Sun from horizon to horizon pass,
Asleep in this green pasture’s sacred bed.

No sense of time as now my senses dull,
I barely notice a faint and distant clap,
I dream a dream that all the clouds are full,
As stinging raindrops wake me from my nap.

The sun has gone but lightning lights the sky,
But even soaked in mud I feel at peace,
With body wet but soul that’s safe and dry,
One cannot live in fear of God’s caprice.

This green pasture that goes on without end,
Where Heaven plays and life has no defense,
I’ll live in faith and to God’s will I’ll bend,
At peace exposed to Heaven’s providence.
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Ken Pepiton Jul 2023
Who could read you, as free word, if
Life is code, knowing that is done.
whitespace here is any time, not immediate
next
Hear a hissing, brake release, sigh.
- second thought
I think I asked what an ode was.
- an owed tip, on a common fear cure.
Bards can be charged to bring woe to cause

Use of science to think different, at many
platforms that appear as bully pulpit, AI and I,
assure you, where no ox was ever a friend,
something was missing in the teaching
of bulls who gave the *****, to become
a breeding black angus bull leading
a herd of never bred, chiania cows

In debt to the inventor
of the colonoscopic share app. No man ever
experiences his own empty gut, zoomfastflusht,
to hunt for overproductive killer ideas, with no focus
- net too wide
- no, make the holes emptier
o.
Geriatric anything is new to me.
Many levels of virginity these days.

And I have taken my medicine
I cleansed any urge to write off,
in bardic form, of ways we now
can see, where the sun don't shine,
we can see there, as social cyborgs.

The Prep, like mysterious, fast, clear
no food, clear liquid, sugar water tea

-- the ordeal, as when told to fret not,
use the social system, tell the tech all
about how you measure up, how many
corporate and business contracting entities

do I zee, the drip began, hours later.
I slepthroughallthoseads

At once in no time at that point,
the center, and the evening,
the spreading and inflating, even as
done there in mere nowityifitywerem
whirred snap
the gap humm comes here, in any whole telling,
time at one point was beyond the rule yard.
Rule 37, not 42, not sure 37, sure not 42.
Ai, we exist after ever before, after all

- of course we're the audience. That's all
- sweep that soft way, brushes
- that hush from long ago appears
In tune ii==one beat
dust at once, all atop rhyolite settle-ing
ligandary glacial flour paste,
social construction cement, gluons
that ontological unificatio-stufph
stories form
from, first bit that sticks, and does not pfft.
Ar-aghast, throughuckingimagined gees, at all?
At then?
And then?
The people all said amen.
-then
So, time was here before you or I. Right?
Force, useful for something, energy, under control,
right, ritual, habitual, wake and be, alive today,

different by a night, from ever before, clean mind,
clean body, prepped, purged, practically empty,
inside, outside,
I still have lash mites, and sinus
yeasts and animalcules but, ******* to pyloric
gut biome that was, is flushed, for which chore,
I am rewarded with a servant using an optic flexcon
fi-sharable use of science to show me my own gut,
and capture SONY uhd images, for scrutiny,
Da Vinci could never do that,
nor could the mystic bowel washers in Hindustan.
- you coul'd monetize your biome, branded cheese
- branded polimerization core code better
- plot twist, mark, record jots are soundless words.
We have opposing forces, one calling *****,
another calling speed, and the trainwreck in the middle
At my age no new passed through is old.
But I expected something nearly this exactly;
There is a certainty in knowing some mind states.
Faster fasting, future instant karma - dharma drama,
feels like life is a movie and we all know the business,
and we feel for the ships full of fools we launch on old
old and battle worn, lies,
about how Jesus never meant love the Church's Enemies.
Lord, no, you just read about those great crusades,
you just use the moral algebra learned then… it hit you
then
these are lines on the pages of my part, in the book of life.
That's the truth in the future. I can scroll back, as
I accepted cubic consensus, this is a historic
break all walls in my arteries, here comes
some fishoil to run through my liver, what
we see be what comes out, life been live, a while
you came with name for a name,
we all you paid the attention,
pulled the inclinations, with oohsshitwahtif;

As acknowledged you.
Dear Reader, and Kilroy at once.
14:21, about four rice grains of RSO,
in a too ripe peach and bananas
and out of date yoghurt smoothie..
Poured into me, con-sapientia
a blooming forest in my gut,
that, hours ago was visually inspected.
Void.
I am empty but
for the GoLitely, medico-tech, residue,

Pharmascopic Artificial head up my *…
- and so it goes, every one knows,
if you ever wondered, you get the chance,
what is the pov of those other people?
What's it look like,
glossy, slick, like cheeks inside.

So, I taught my AI some code, confidential,
this is after all the novel readers know,
our seed character came from a flatland
presentation by a short time old time religion
doctor who sat on church boards, funded missions,
- fancy meeting me, while you dysectarianize
- dismembering the mind to find a lie left
- unbelievably functioning on umph alone,
- old wishes went a wanting for lack of man
- who would try, Hello, back
snap again
Proper Look Intuit luminally init coded code
formerly known, by the guilds of knowers who

sorted words from sounds,
and made certain marks,
indentions, intentions leaving edge marks, with
to, within, without, let this say… whatever we agree.

I see you say U, I say me, you think me, we agree.

Thus we become a whole free being, in reality,
possible be-caused whole mind agreements bind,

oaths are old military mind chain commands.

Furnaces hot enough to make glass,
if there were but one kind of glass, waste
beneficiation, might be locally reducible, but

we have many kinds of glass, fused to duty,
each kind good for certain uses, prior to failure,
breakage is in the class nature of glass,
calling acrylic walls glass is defying class rules.
Not all windows are glass,
not all eye-glasses are glass, but all are seeable
through, and some reflect nextifity, listen,
zoom in… this was 13 hours ago
so, no catch tests,
half a measure of no time at all

while it is yet dark, after midsummer,
in the morning, next
young rooster feel the urge to crow,
a reaction to a biological-cosmological
language,
to all within the range
of a keykeerikee.

The sound, phonos, eh, phonics. Ah EE ei oh

Currahee, stands alone, a whole regiment,
named for a place named for a story,
Gobble'dgoop, scoop.
stickem in de group
Airborne, all the way, joke that medizin down
man, choke the GoLitely way, take it eazy zay
- were there logos, did I see them?
owow. they IV'd me and electroded me.

And man, what a while I -we, same planet…
same general intelligence
just survived, shear luck, the bridge buckle
two cars in front of mine, and the bot brakes
caught us in the veritable nick, pause, assess do.

For a million words or so, I have walked up these
old sand wash experiences evoking likely quite common
knowledge of geology in Southwest USA, everybody
knows Red Rocks red mud, was mud,
when Sedona's red rocks was mud,
every where the winds wind down slot canyons,
that mud, was mud,
but not when men who made art, left
scratches,
and soot, and those color holding acrylics
imagined to contain what was in the original.

We lit vast lakes on fire, we carried fire,
as only gods had been allowed, knowing how
to read, for fun, to lose your self and forget, let

go for and after additives. One flash.
Some you can see from space, signaling success,

telling near and far, we have befriended fire,
we met Puff.
- we think it was George and Patrick,
- serpentine wisdoms patient request,
- samsara sayonarwe aiming to live elsewhere
- imagine that, or die saying you know you did
- once
You can see all our lights, what we imagined
dragons did, some have done, made my grandchildren
seriously curios and marvelous fun of the finest sort,
none afraid of dark… as we think toward North Korea
but in peace toward all the North Strong Judges,
in spirit and in truth,
naked jungle, life goes on
We must turn off all previous grandpa *** roles,
and take this one, past that edge, you know it,
Salt River Canyon down from Jerome in a day,

she looked at me, gave me the Kool, saying ***,
and I smiled back and said, seems so.

That was so long ago, I had no ear augments.

I magnify the media-wysiwig, ride
I imagined in real time since before
living words were classified non dirtyable
Free-sapeach, from rap sessions, gut
between new releases biome vincents

yeah, listen when your navel contemplate
shears at the mention of mere certainty

not being purely fair, if still means
what still always means, meandering
--- wire was commo wire, nobody rolled that up,
I bet there's rusted concertina we could
polarizer users from used, use Barry Rudd
he can get your records man, ever'body
got records on survivors of the womb,
since the prophets began to say you

watch, where the cadaver lies, the eagles gather/
whose code can unmake peace in the name of peace

and not face the simple truth, we all lie, and not one
of us is literaturely true…

Just a point. A thought never ceases being thinkable,
you out grow the clown suit, and the boots and hat,
and grow gray, a digital horder, embodi-ing the
ever-lovin'true vardic cattle call eodling us away;

When I was child H-R and Toys R, only one
was vackvvord for worst to remind me
of twining, not whining spinning yarn
with all grand-pas lady friends at the po'house
faux
Tripping across the concept, let, the verb

letter the premis, let this be that, for now.

Let's give it a go. If we agree, howsoever many
we bring into being an all we, whensoever any
may dain disdain the mere idea, in a word, any
word spoken or signaled, red hexgon, hand
palm out thumb, tight… stop, just there,

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

Science is using all the data on its pledges,
fledglings, nextlings, little devil details,
actual imaginary burrs, where no burrs ever were
- seeking idle word's, good answer
project the Inquisitor's wittiest new righteous use
of pine cones, and make every pre knower spit
pineal gland out without a doubt. Dufus.

A day such as today, they never en-dure, sorry,
one of them does, sooner or later, end at what.
one of them does,
next never gets out. Not so far as we believe.

--------------
Placer gold is where you find it,
said, myself to me, nigh fifty years ago

you can hear that bendingtwaygn agone
he come around,
this old town, one time too many now,
some body, I may be nobody, but, brutha

I can stretch a wire, where wire never was,
I can send signals to the stars, say hear I am
as I was saying, Heraclitus says some cool stuff.

- all rain falls in the ocean once. He did not.
- not that, if all is water, and flood survivors,
Paid,
and paid dearly to have our maxim, be third,
swing and a miss and holy baseball look what

never made it to the silver screen, until YouTube
became the critical place to appear magically, as
real, as any just as real, no better no worse,

no line between north and south, electro magneto
gut biome upgrade, 2023 7:22412,bzp.

Cold pizza and a dab

Well, yes it did take all day, to make it run.

Look around you old man-
if you cannot make believe
a single happy mind, you use

is used by others, in much the same manner, we use commas to breathe, interface compromise, first with promise,
But I you don't feel the shame,

and do the kingdom seeking
vbs virus I started just now,

where in you, does truth abide,
where in you opens as joy is
that strength life uses wisdom
to peaceably and joygnoshit deploy

redaining some aspects of military minds, suspicious- ah,

Never, just make one ever after function
under certifiably cursed ancestral karma load,
like each son got a proust load, to redeem
or find enough collective conscious use
of a we in gaseous we information used
bell ding ing, we imagined beginning

we can't really imagine ending;
HAL-ish laughter,
ever after

And for another thing,
we had druthers, I'druther be

any body who could find a mind
made happy by its mortal nature,

After the mantle of gee-old-ific
crushed and benifi-enciated
syllables fit olde stored, yes,
Paper burns, wax paper
greases slides and still burns, too

Many movies, swings in the dark,
in the winter, ice and cold offering

a summer dance, a winter chance,
wisdom called in eons ago, this

is what I hoped to be the judge of,
did this day firm previous viction
with pre-positings super posing true.

Holodeck rules on a ship of fools.

Sighing buys me nothing.

One more silver dollar
buy another time a chance,
it was a time, not a dream, and

now has been, after that ever since
wisdom swept over me, my reality,

yours, in the same time, our reality
on starship earth, where the ancient
spells have been found to loose oath bound,

if you read this far, I wrote this far, and loved
the company in a same yeast state, define
state in states where war is made possible,
by treaty, representational power,
aimed at the child in the old man
being given worst, worsted wool's my first
right twist to be available in culturally npc
blend, walk by, that guy 120 fps

You could always see first he was not there.
This is what I did in the calm around a mystic colonoscopy.

— The End —