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Picasso
you give us things
which
bulge:grunting lungs pumped full of sharp thick mind

you make us shrill
presents always
shut in the sumptuous screech of
simplicity

(out of the
black unbunged
Something gushes vaguely a squeak of planes
or

between squeals of
Nothing grabbed with circular shrieking tightness
solid screams whispers.)
Lumberman of the Distinct

your brain’s
axe only chops hugest inherent
Trees of Ego,from
whose living and biggest

bodies lopped
of every
prettiness

you hew form truly
Of Man’s first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the World, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
Sing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed
In the beginning how the heavens and earth
Rose out of Chaos: or, if Sion hill
Delight thee more, and Siloa’s brook that flowed
Fast by the oracle of God, I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above th’ Aonian mount, while it pursues
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.
And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer
Before all temples th’ upright heart and pure,
Instruct me, for thou know’st; thou from the first
Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,
Dove-like sat’st brooding on the vast Abyss,
And mad’st it pregnant: what in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support;
That, to the height of this great argument,
I may assert Eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to men.
  Say first—for Heaven hides nothing from thy view,
Nor the deep tract of Hell—say first what cause
Moved our grand parents, in that happy state,
Favoured of Heaven so highly, to fall off
From their Creator, and transgress his will
For one restraint, lords of the World besides.
Who first seduced them to that foul revolt?
  Th’ infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile,
Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived
The mother of mankind, what time his pride
Had cast him out from Heaven, with all his host
Of rebel Angels, by whose aid, aspiring
To set himself in glory above his peers,
He trusted to have equalled the Most High,
If he opposed, and with ambitious aim
Against the throne and monarchy of God,
Raised impious war in Heaven and battle proud,
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durst defy th’ Omnipotent to arms.
  Nine times the space that measures day and night
To mortal men, he, with his horrid crew,
Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded, though immortal. But his doom
Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes,
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay,
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.
At once, as far as Angels ken, he views
The dismal situation waste and wild.
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round,
As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames
No light; but rather darkness visible
Served only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all, but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed
With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
Such place Eternal Justice has prepared
For those rebellious; here their prison ordained
In utter darkness, and their portion set,
As far removed from God and light of Heaven
As from the centre thrice to th’ utmost pole.
Oh how unlike the place from whence they fell!
There the companions of his fall, o’erwhelmed
With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
He soon discerns; and, weltering by his side,
One next himself in power, and next in crime,
Long after known in Palestine, and named
Beelzebub. To whom th’ Arch-Enemy,
And thence in Heaven called Satan, with bold words
Breaking the horrid silence, thus began:—
  “If thou beest he—but O how fallen! how changed
From him who, in the happy realms of light
Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine
Myriads, though bright!—if he whom mutual league,
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope
And hazard in the glorious enterprise
Joined with me once, now misery hath joined
In equal ruin; into what pit thou seest
From what height fallen: so much the stronger proved
He with his thunder; and till then who knew
The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those,
Nor what the potent Victor in his rage
Can else inflict, do I repent, or change,
Though changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind,
And high disdain from sense of injured merit,
That with the Mightiest raised me to contend,
And to the fierce contentions brought along
Innumerable force of Spirits armed,
That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring,
His utmost power with adverse power opposed
In dubious battle on the plains of Heaven,
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost?
All is not lost—the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is else not to be overcome?
That glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knee, and deify his power
Who, from the terror of this arm, so late
Doubted his empire—that were low indeed;
That were an ignominy and shame beneath
This downfall; since, by fate, the strength of Gods,
And this empyreal sybstance, cannot fail;
Since, through experience of this great event,
In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced,
We may with more successful hope resolve
To wage by force or guile eternal war,
Irreconcilable to our grand Foe,
Who now triumphs, and in th’ excess of joy
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven.”
  So spake th’ apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair;
And him thus answered soon his bold compeer:—
  “O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers
That led th’ embattled Seraphim to war
Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds
Fearless, endangered Heaven’s perpetual King,
And put to proof his high supremacy,
Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate,
Too well I see and rue the dire event
That, with sad overthrow and foul defeat,
Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host
In horrible destruction laid thus low,
As far as Gods and heavenly Essences
Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains
Invincible, and vigour soon returns,
Though all our glory extinct, and happy state
Here swallowed up in endless misery.
But what if he our Conqueror (whom I now
Of force believe almighty, since no less
Than such could have o’erpowered such force as ours)
Have left us this our spirit and strength entire,
Strongly to suffer and support our pains,
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,
Or do him mightier service as his thralls
By right of war, whate’er his business be,
Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire,
Or do his errands in the gloomy Deep?
What can it the avail though yet we feel
Strength undiminished, or eternal being
To undergo eternal punishment?”
  Whereto with speedy words th’ Arch-Fiend replied:—
“Fallen Cherub, to be weak is miserable,
Doing or suffering: but of this be sure—
To do aught good never will be our task,
But ever to do ill our sole delight,
As being the contrary to his high will
Whom we resist. If then his providence
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil;
Which ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
His inmost counsels from their destined aim.
But see! the angry Victor hath recalled
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail,
Shot after us in storm, o’erblown hath laid
The fiery surge that from the precipice
Of Heaven received us falling; and the thunder,
Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage,
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.
Let us not slip th’ occasion, whether scorn
Or satiate fury yield it from our Foe.
Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,
The seat of desolation, void of light,
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
From off the tossing of these fiery waves;
There rest, if any rest can harbour there;
And, re-assembling our afflicted powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
Our enemy, our own loss how repair,
How overcome this dire calamity,
What reinforcement we may gain from hope,
If not, what resolution from despair.”
  Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate,
With head uplift above the wave, and eyes
That sparkling blazed; his other parts besides
Prone on the flood, extended long and large,
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge
As whom the fables name of monstrous size,
Titanian or Earth-born, that warred on Jove,
Briareos or Typhon, whom the den
By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast
Leviathan, which God of all his works
Created hugest that swim th’ ocean-stream.
Him, haply slumbering on the Norway foam,
The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff,
Deeming some island, oft, as ****** tell,
With fixed anchor in his scaly rind,
Moors by his side under the lee, while night
Invests the sea, and wished morn delays.
So stretched out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay,
Chained on the burning lake; nor ever thence
Had risen, or heaved his head, but that the will
And high permission of all-ruling Heaven
Left him at large to his own dark designs,
That with reiterated crimes he might
Heap on himself damnation, while he sought
Evil to others, and enraged might see
How all his malice served but to bring forth
Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy, shewn
On Man by him seduced, but on himself
Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance poured.
  Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool
His mighty stature; on each hand the flames
Driven backward ***** their pointing spires, and,rolled
In billows, leave i’ th’ midst a horrid vale.
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air,
That felt unusual weight; till on dry land
He lights—if it were land that ever burned
With solid, as the lake with liquid fire,
And such appeared in hue as when the force
Of subterranean wind transprots a hill
Torn from Pelorus, or the shattered side
Of thundering Etna, whose combustible
And fuelled entrails, thence conceiving fire,
Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds,
And leave a singed bottom all involved
With stench and smoke. Such resting found the sole
Of unblest feet. Him followed his next mate;
Both glorying to have scaped the Stygian flood
As gods, and by their own recovered strength,
Not by the sufferance of supernal Power.
  “Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,”
Said then the lost Archangel, “this the seat
That we must change for Heaven?—this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? Be it so, since he
Who now is sovereign can dispose and bid
What shall be right: farthest from him is best
Whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields,
Where joy for ever dwells! Hail, horrors! hail,
Infernal world! and thou, profoundest Hell,
Receive thy new possessor—one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
What matter where, if I be still the same,
And what I should be, all but less than he
Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least
We shall be free; th’ Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reigh secure; and, in my choice,
To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
Th’ associates and co-partners of our loss,
Lie thus astonished on th’ oblivious pool,
And call them not to share with us their part
In this unhappy mansion, or once more
With rallied arms to try what may be yet
Regained in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell?”
  So Satan spake; and him Beelzebub
Thus answered:—”Leader of those armies bright
Which, but th’ Omnipotent, none could have foiled!
If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge
Of hope in fears and dangers—heard so oft
In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
Of battle, when it raged, in all assaults
Their surest signal—they will soon resume
New courage and revive, though now they lie
Grovelling and prostrate on yon lake of fire,
As we erewhile, astounded and amazed;
No wonder, fallen such a pernicious height!”
  He scare had ceased when the superior Fiend
Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield,
Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round,
Behind him cast. The broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb
Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views
At evening, from the top of Fesole,
Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands,
Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
His spear—to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast
Of some great ammiral, were but a wand—
He walked with, to support uneasy steps
Over the burning marl, not like those steps
On Heaven’s azure; and the torrid clime
Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire.
Nathless he so endured, till on the beach
Of that inflamed sea he stood, and called
His legions—Angel Forms, who lay entranced
Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks
In Vallombrosa, where th’ Etrurian shades
High over-arched embower; or scattered sedge
Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion armed
Hath vexed the Red-Sea coast, whose waves o’erthrew
Busiris and his Memphian chivalry,
While with perfidious hatred they pursued
The sojourners of Goshen, who beheld
From the safe shore their floating carcases
And broken chariot-wheels. So thick bestrown,
Abject and lost, lay these, covering the flood,
Under amazement of their hideous change.
He called so loud that all the hollow deep
Of Hell resounded:—”Princes, Potentates,
Warriors, the Flower of Heaven—once yours; now lost,
If such astonishment as this can seize
Eternal Spirits! Or have ye chosen this place
After the toil of battle to repose
Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find
To slumber here, as in the vales of Heaven?
Or in this abject posture have ye sworn
To adore the Conqueror, who now beholds
Cherub and Seraph rolling in the flood
With scattered arms and ensigns, till anon
His swift pursuers from Heaven-gates discern
Th’ advantage, and, descending, tread us down
Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts
Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf?
Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen!”
  They heard, and were abashed, and up they sprung
Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch
On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread,
Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake.
Nor did they not perceive the evil plight
In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel;
Yet to their General’s voice they soon obeyed
Innumerable. As when the potent rod
Of Amram’s son, in Egypt’s evil day,
Waved round the coast, up-called a pitchy cloud
Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind,
That o’er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung
Like Night, and darkened all the land of Nile;
So numberless were those bad Angels seen
Hovering on wing under the cope of Hell,
‘Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires;
Till, as a signal given, th’ uplifted spear
Of their great Sultan waving to direct
Their course, in even balance down they light
On the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain:
A multitude like which the populous North
Poured never from her frozen ***** to pass
Rhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons
Came like a deluge on the South, and spread
Beneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands.
Forthwith, form every squadron and each band,
The heads and leaders thither haste where stood
Their great Commander—godlike Shapes, and Forms
Excelling human; princely Dignities;
And Powers that erst in Heaven sat on thrones,
Though on their names in Heavenly records now
Be no memorial, blotted out and rased
By their rebellion from the Books of Life.
Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve
Got them new names, till, wandering o’er the earth,
Through God’s high sufferance for the trial of man,
By falsities and lies the greatest part
Of mankind they corrupted to forsake
God their Creator, and th’ invisible
Glory of him that made them to transform
Oft to the image of a brute, adorned
With gay religions full of pomp and gold,
And devils to adore for deities:
Then were they known to men by various names,
And various idols through the heathen world.
  Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last,
Roused fr
BOOK I

     Deep in the shady sadness of a vale
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star,
Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone,
Still as the silence round about his lair;
Forest on forest hung above his head
Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there,
Not so much life as on a summer's day
Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass,
But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
A stream went voiceless by, still deadened more
By reason of his fallen divinity
Spreading a shade: the Naiad 'mid her reeds
Press'd her cold finger closer to her lips.

     Along the margin-sand large foot-marks went,
No further than to where his feet had stray'd,
And slept there since.  Upon the sodden ground
His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead,
Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were closed;
While his bow'd head seem'd list'ning to the Earth,
His ancient mother, for some comfort yet.

     It seem'd no force could wake him from his place;
But there came one, who with a kindred hand
Touch'd his wide shoulders, after bending low
With reverence, though to one who knew it not.
She was a Goddess of the infant world;
By her in stature the tall Amazon
Had stood a pigmy's height: she would have ta'en
Achilles by the hair and bent his neck;
Or with a finger stay'd Ixion's wheel.
Her face was large as that of Memphian sphinx,
Pedestal'd haply in a palace court,
When sages look'd to Egypt for their lore.
But oh! how unlike marble was that face:
How beautiful, if sorrow had not made
Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
There was a listening fear in her regard,
As if calamity had but begun;
As if the vanward clouds of evil days
Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear
Was with its stored thunder labouring up.
One hand she press'd upon that aching spot
Where beats the human heart, as if just there,
Though an immortal, she felt cruel pain:
The other upon Saturn's bended neck
She laid, and to the level of his ear
Leaning with parted lips, some words she spake
In solemn tenor and deep ***** tone:
Some mourning words, which in our feeble tongue
Would come in these like accents; O how frail
To that large utterance of the early Gods!
"Saturn, look up!---though wherefore, poor old King?
I have no comfort for thee, no not one:
I cannot say, 'O wherefore sleepest thou?'
For heaven is parted from thee, and the earth
Knows thee not, thus afflicted, for a God;
And ocean too, with all its solemn noise,
Has from thy sceptre pass'd; and all the air
Is emptied of thine hoary majesty.
Thy thunder, conscious of the new command,
Rumbles reluctant o'er our fallen house;
And thy sharp lightning in unpractised hands
Scorches and burns our once serene domain.
O aching time! O moments big as years!
All as ye pass swell out the monstrous truth,
And press it so upon our weary griefs
That unbelief has not a space to breathe.
Saturn, sleep on:---O thoughtless, why did I
Thus violate thy slumbrous solitude?
Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes?
Saturn, sleep on! while at thy feet I weep."

     As when, upon a tranced summer-night,
Those green-rob'd senators of mighty woods,
Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars,
Dream, and so dream all night without a stir,
Save from one gradual solitary gust
Which comes upon the silence, and dies off,
As if the ebbing air had but one wave;
So came these words and went; the while in tears
She touch'd her fair large forehead to the ground,
Just where her fallen hair might be outspread
A soft and silken mat for Saturn's feet.
One moon, with alteration slow, had shed
Her silver seasons four upon the night,
And still these two were postured motionless,
Like natural sculpture in cathedral cavern;
The frozen God still couchant on the earth,
And the sad Goddess weeping at his feet:
Until at length old Saturn lifted up
His faded eyes, and saw his kingdom gone,
And all the gloom and sorrow ofthe place,
And that fair kneeling Goddess; and then spake,
As with a palsied tongue, and while his beard
Shook horrid with such aspen-malady:
"O tender spouse of gold Hyperion,
Thea, I feel thee ere I see thy face;
Look up, and let me see our doom in it;
Look up, and tell me if this feeble shape
Is Saturn's; tell me, if thou hear'st the voice
Of Saturn; tell me, if this wrinkling brow,
Naked and bare of its great diadem,
Peers like the front of Saturn? Who had power
To make me desolate? Whence came the strength?
How was it nurtur'd to such bursting forth,
While Fate seem'd strangled in my nervous grasp?
But it is so; and I am smother'd up,
And buried from all godlike exercise
Of influence benign on planets pale,
Of admonitions to the winds and seas,
Of peaceful sway above man's harvesting,
And all those acts which Deity supreme
Doth ease its heart of love in.---I am gone
Away from my own *****: I have left
My strong identity, my real self,
Somewhere between the throne, and where I sit
Here on this spot of earth. Search, Thea, search!
Open thine eyes eterne, and sphere them round
Upon all space: space starr'd, and lorn of light;
Space region'd with life-air; and barren void;
Spaces of fire, and all the yawn of hell.---
Search, Thea, search! and tell me, if thou seest
A certain shape or shadow, making way
With wings or chariot fierce to repossess
A heaven he lost erewhile: it must---it must
Be of ripe progress---Saturn must be King.
Yes, there must be a golden victory;
There must be Gods thrown down, and trumpets blown
Of triumph calm, and hymns of festival
Upon the gold clouds metropolitan,
Voices of soft proclaim, and silver stir
Of strings in hollow shells; and there shall be
Beautiful things made new, for the surprise
Of the sky-children; I will give command:
Thea! Thea! Thea! where is Saturn?"
This passion lifted him upon his feet,
And made his hands to struggle in the air,
His Druid locks to shake and ooze with sweat,
His eyes to fever out, his voice to cease.
He stood, and heard not Thea's sobbing deep;
A little time, and then again he ******'d
Utterance thus.---"But cannot I create?
Cannot I form? Cannot I fashion forth
Another world, another universe,
To overbear and crumble this to nought?
Where is another Chaos? Where?"---That word
Found way unto Olympus, and made quake
The rebel three.---Thea was startled up,
And in her bearing was a sort of hope,
As thus she quick-voic'd spake, yet full of awe.

     "This cheers our fallen house: come to our friends,
O Saturn! come away, and give them heart;
I know the covert, for thence came I hither."
Thus brief; then with beseeching eyes she went
With backward footing through the shade a space:
He follow'd, and she turn'd to lead the way
Through aged boughs, that yielded like the mist
Which eagles cleave upmounting from their nest.

     Meanwhile in other realms big tears were shed,
More sorrow like to this, and such like woe,
Too huge for mortal tongue or pen of scribe:
The Titans fierce, self-hid, or prison-bound,
Groan'd for the old allegiance once more,
And listen'd in sharp pain for Saturn's voice.
But one of the whole mammoth-brood still kept
His sov'reigny, and rule, and majesy;---
Blazing Hyperion on his orbed fire
Still sat, still *****'d the incense, teeming up
From man to the sun's God: yet unsecure:
For as among us mortals omens drear
Fright and perplex, so also shuddered he---
Not at dog's howl, or gloom-bird's hated screech,
Or the familiar visiting of one
Upon the first toll of his passing-bell,
Or prophesyings of the midnight lamp;
But horrors, portion'd to a giant nerve,
Oft made Hyperion ache.  His palace bright,
Bastion'd with pyramids of glowing gold,
And touch'd with shade of bronzed obelisks,
Glar'd a blood-red through all its thousand courts,
Arches, and domes, and fiery galleries;
And all its curtains of Aurorian clouds
Flush'd angerly: while sometimes eagles' wings,
Unseen before by Gods or wondering men,
Darken'd the place; and neighing steeds were heard
Not heard before by Gods or wondering men.
Also, when he would taste the spicy wreaths
Of incense, breath'd aloft from sacred hills,
Instead of sweets, his ample palate took
Savor of poisonous brass and metal sick:
And so, when harbor'd in the sleepy west,
After the full completion of fair day,---
For rest divine upon exalted couch,
And slumber in the arms of melody,
He pac'd away the pleasant hours of ease
With stride colossal, on from hall to hall;
While far within each aisle and deep recess,
His winged minions in close clusters stood,
Amaz'd and full offear; like anxious men
Who on wide plains gather in panting troops,
When earthquakes jar their battlements and towers.
Even now, while Saturn, rous'd from icy trance,
Went step for step with Thea through the woods,
Hyperion, leaving twilight in the rear,
Came ***** upon the threshold of the west;
Then, as was wont, his palace-door flew ope
In smoothest silence, save what solemn tubes,
Blown by the serious Zephyrs, gave of sweet
And wandering sounds, slow-breathed melodies;
And like a rose in vermeil tint and shape,
In fragrance soft, and coolness to the eye,
That inlet to severe magnificence
Stood full blown, for the God to enter in.

     He enter'd, but he enter'd full of wrath;
His flaming robes stream'd out beyond his heels,
And gave a roar, as if of earthly fire,
That scar'd away the meek ethereal Hours
And made their dove-wings tremble. On he flared
From stately nave to nave, from vault to vault,
Through bowers of fragrant and enwreathed light,
And diamond-paved lustrous long arcades,
Until he reach'd the great main cupola;
There standing fierce beneath, he stampt his foot,
And from the basements deep to the high towers
Jarr'd his own golden region; and before
The quavering thunder thereupon had ceas'd,
His voice leapt out, despite of godlike curb,
To this result: "O dreams of day and night!
O monstrous forms! O effigies of pain!
O spectres busy in a cold, cold gloom!
O lank-eared phantoms of black-weeded pools!
Why do I know ye? why have I seen ye? why
Is my eternal essence thus distraught
To see and to behold these horrors new?
Saturn is fallen, am I too to fall?
Am I to leave this haven of my rest,
This cradle of my glory, this soft clime,
This calm luxuriance of blissful light,
These crystalline pavilions, and pure fanes,
Of all my lucent empire?  It is left
Deserted, void, nor any haunt of mine.
The blaze, the splendor, and the symmetry,
I cannot see but darkness, death, and darkness.
Even here, into my centre of repose,
The shady visions come to domineer,
Insult, and blind, and stifle up my pomp.---
Fall!---No, by Tellus and her briny robes!
Over the fiery frontier of my realms
I will advance a terrible right arm
Shall scare that infant thunderer, rebel Jove,
And bid old Saturn take his throne again."---
He spake, and ceas'd, the while a heavier threat
Held struggle with his throat but came not forth;
For as in theatres of crowded men
Hubbub increases more they call out "Hush!"
So at Hyperion's words the phantoms pale
Bestirr'd themselves, thrice horrible and cold;
And from the mirror'd level where he stood
A mist arose, as from a scummy marsh.
At this, through all his bulk an agony
Crept gradual, from the feet unto the crown,
Like a lithe serpent vast and muscular
Making slow way, with head and neck convuls'd
From over-strained might.  Releas'd, he fled
To the eastern gates, and full six dewy hours
Before the dawn in season due should blush,
He breath'd fierce breath against the sleepy portals,
Clear'd them of heavy vapours, burst them wide
Suddenly on the ocean's chilly streams.
The planet orb of fire, whereon he rode
Each day from east to west the heavens through,
Spun round in sable curtaining of clouds;
Not therefore veiled quite, blindfold, and hid,
But ever and anon the glancing spheres,
Circles, and arcs, and broad-belting colure,
Glow'd through, and wrought upon the muffling dark
Sweet-shaped lightnings from the nadir deep
Up to the zenith,---hieroglyphics old,
Which sages and keen-eyed astrologers
Then living on the earth, with laboring thought
Won from the gaze of many centuries:
Now lost, save what we find on remnants huge
Of stone, or rnarble swart; their import gone,
Their wisdom long since fled.---Two wings this orb
Possess'd for glory, two fair argent wings,
Ever exalted at the God's approach:
And now, from forth the gloom their plumes immense
Rose, one by one, till all outspreaded were;
While still the dazzling globe maintain'd eclipse,
Awaiting for Hyperion's command.
Fain would he have commanded, fain took throne
And bid the day begin, if but for change.
He might not:---No, though a primeval God:
The sacred seasons might not be disturb'd.
Therefore the operations of the dawn
Stay'd in their birth, even as here 'tis told.
Those silver wings expanded sisterly,
Eager to sail their orb; the porches wide
Open'd upon the dusk demesnes of night
And the bright Titan, phrenzied with new woes,
Unus'd to bend, by hard compulsion bent
His spirit to the sorrow of the time;
And all along a dismal rack of clouds,
Upon the boundaries of day and night,
He stretch'd himself in grief and radiance faint.
There as he lay, the Heaven with its stars
Look'd down on him with pity, and the voice
Of Coelus, from the universal space,
Thus whisper'd low and solemn in his ear:
"O brightest of my children dear, earth-born
And sky-engendered, son of mysteries
All unrevealed even to the powers
Which met at thy creating; at whose joys
And palpitations sweet, and pleasures soft,
I, Coelus, wonder, how they came and whence;
And at the fruits thereof what shapes they be,
Distinct, and visible; symbols divine,
Manifestations of that beauteous life
Diffus'd unseen throughout eternal space:
Of these new-form'd art thou, O brightest child!
Of these, thy brethren and the Goddesses!
There is sad feud among ye, and rebellion
Of son against his sire.  I saw him fall,
I saw my first-born tumbled from his throne!
To me his arms were spread, to me his voice
Found way from forth the thunders round his head!
Pale wox I, and in vapours hid my face.
Art thou, too, near such doom? vague fear there is:
For I have seen my sons most unlike Gods.
Divine ye were created, and divine
In sad demeanour, solemn, undisturb'd,
Unruffled, like high Gods, ye liv'd and ruled:
Now I behold in you fear, hope, and wrath;
Actions of rage and passion; even as
I see them, on the mortal world beneath,
In men who die.---This is the grief, O son!
Sad sign of ruin, sudden dismay, and fall!
Yet do thou strive; as thou art capable,
As thou canst move about, an evident God;
And canst oppose to each malignant hour
Ethereal presence:---I am but a voice;
My life is but the life of winds and tides,
No more than winds and tides can I avail:---
But thou canst.---Be thou therefore in the van
Of circumstance; yea, seize the arrow's barb
Before the tense string murmur.---To the earth!
For there thou wilt find Saturn, and his woes.
Meantime I will keep watch on thy bright sun,
And of thy seasons be a careful nurse."---
Ere half this region-whisper had come down,
Hyperion arose, and on the stars
Lifted his curved lids, and kept them wide
Until it ceas'd; and still he kept them wide:
And still they were the same bright, patient stars.
Then with a slow incline of his broad breast,
Like to a diver in the pearly seas,
Forward he stoop'd over the airy shore,
And plung'd all noiseless into the deep night.

BOOK II

Just at the self-same beat of Time's wide wings
Hyperion slid into the rustled air,
And Saturn gain'd with Thea that sad place
Where Cybele and the bruised Titans mourn'd.
It was a den where no insulting light
Could glimmer on their tears; where their own groans
They felt, but heard not, for the solid roar
Of thunderous waterfalls and torrents hoarse,
Pouring a constant bulk, uncertain where.
Crag jutting forth to crag, and rocks that seem'd
Ever as if just rising from a sleep,
Forehead to forehead held their monstrous horns;
And thus in thousand hugest phantasies
Made a fit roofing to this nest of woe.
Instead of thrones, hard flint they sat upon,
Couches of rugged stone, and slaty ridge
Stubborn'd with iron.  All were not assembled:
Some chain'd in torture, and some wandering.
Caus, and Gyges, and Briareus,
Ty
1368

Love’s stricken “why”
Is all that love can speak—
Built of but just a syllable
The hugest hearts that break.
Cherry Cupcake Jun 2013
Who said Juliet and Romeo were dead?
Loving is easier done than said
While suicide is easier wished than done
Correct me please, if you judge me wrong

Ro and I will die of a natural death
Whereafter our story will be widely spread
Teenagers, men and women in tears
Relating with depth to our greatest fears

I'll be their example and he'll be their dream
Their hero increasing their love-esteem
Chasing away the doubts and clouds
Leaving their hearts singing loud and proud
Love is to be lived
Life is to be loved

Distance can't separate our connected chests
Sencerely, Shakespeare, you were one of the best
But declaring us dead was your hugest flaw
For no corner of the globe will be spared of our law.


-Love-
Juliet.



Y
05/01/2013
Michael Parish Sep 2013
Were you a tomboy, the girl
who played football at recess.
The only one who didnt run
when a mouse died inside
the yellow pudding.
Jblm knows a girl.
She sneaks into the motor
Pool and wont
pass up taking
tanks for joy rides.
Or forget about
ratting out who
has the hugest mangina
down inside the unicorn.  
He walks by pulling up
His pants while a drip
of ***** martinie clencses
the uneven stony floor.
Her fingers move faster then
whips when she steals a cigarett
from his soft young lips.
Àŧùl Mar 2013
We used to play in that playground,
It was full of uniform levelled green grass.

Here heartily played Abhishek's greyhound,
Running excitedly all over game's green mass.

We used to play cricket in the ground,
It was a temporary zone of football grass.

Here all games were near Atul's house unbound,
Free from all school-work it was enjoyable as deep bass.

But today our generation is busy in our lives making careers,
The next generation is too young yet to make full use of the lawns.

Reduced in size which used to be our hugest amphitheatre of sweetness,
Has now got grass growing untamed covering The Playground Of Wilderness.
Abhishek Thakur of Karnal, India was my childhood best friend
© Atul Kaushal
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
.ah ****... i almost forgot... abdullah (the name of muhammad's father) - song: lucifer in starlight... another name you should know... in case some Islamic terrorists attack and ask you for the names of muhammad's wives... just mention... well... think of Stephen Vizinczey's novel - in praise of older women... then say the magic word: Khadija... who... being an older woman, kept the reins on the Batman (orphan)... she really did keep him in check, did all the accountancy... and was probably the person who wrote the first Surahs... given that... muhammad couldn't read jack-****! i, acknowledge the writing of the Quran to Khadija... for me... she's what overwhelms me to not succumb to the "******" Mary.

i found the cause of my "erectile dysfunction"
when i first visited a *******...
would you believe it?
        i was there for what i was paying for...
i can vaguely remember on instance
where my little Richard had more brains
than i had...
               ****** just would stand on point...
hindsight... actually, some jokes are
only funny with hindsight,
esp. the Donald Trump jokes back in...
whenever it was...
           but lil' richard was whispering:
don't **** this girl, she's trouble,
she's a nymphomaniac...
          which boils down to:
there's no delusion (i hope) with men
watching *******...
  yes, most of these men will not ****
the women, because the women are:
nymphomaniacs (just watch
the lars von trier movie)...
                    although no problem with
my first love...
the problem boils down to the Freudian
concept of: the madonna-***** complex...
it's not my "erectile dysfunction"...
why would i have no problem
with a *******, but when it comes
to the free woman of the west
i'm all: american woman by the guess who?
ah... now i remember...
talking...
   i remember the first time my first
love performed *******...
   just before engaging in the act...
she said the words:
     imagine what my daddy would think...
what?!
   i'm surprised i didn't get a limp ****...
honest to god...
    i remember how with a *******
you didn't need to talk,
there was not need to have little
bad boy, daddy's naughty girl insinuations...
just basic *******, like any animal might...
obviously culminating
in an onomatopoeia of what could
be words, in syllables of ******...
i've learned that:
                    the more talk there is during
***... it's like:
   the hugest turn-off...
  why bring God (in the beginning
there was the word, and the word was god)
into the church of Satan
      (i.e. ****** *******)?!
works just fine with prostitutes,
but when it comes to the free women
of the western world...
   problems arise...
                might as well turn around
and **** a goat or something...
  sorry... i don't need god to be present
when i ****...
                      he's far better off
in the synagogue of my thought,
away from my tongue that might will
to usher in a prayer,
just after performing floral exfoliation
or slurping down an oyster,
on a ****.

p.s. die sonne satan: dismal chant...
for the love of god,
i do not know where or how
i'll ever buy the copy of this album.
Kimberley Leiser Feb 2019
Addiction to alcohol,
took its ugly toll.
Everything was
grey and black,
while sipping
pint after pint
dead of night,                                  
nothing would go right.

Waking up to morning migraines,
bruises on my swollen legs,  
pains in my chest;
shaky hands and sweats,
with no money left
except for a few penny's
memories of the night before a knew the score! some were good...some were very bad... but usually not that many I can remember.

Being the servent to devil's brew,
can lead to the darkest of avenues,
when you can no longer pay,
for the lifestyle,
you drink in the street,
sell yourself cheap,  
relationships are abusive,
opportunities are missed.  
You argue and alienate yourself
with the ones you love,
being the loner;
you feel no one cares
no one listens to you
no one is home.



My personal hygiene was the first to thing go,
my hair was greasy.  
over weight
I was constantly sweating  
got tooth decay                                 
ashamed to bare a grin
in case people mocked
and laugh at me.   

And mentally I felt drained;
nothing was ever worth the fight,
I felt nothing inside
wanted to go bed and hide.
Unable to turn off the mental abuse,
I couldn't write or think logic
threats, voices and paranoia  
consumed my head,
jump to conclusions
before anything was said.

To conquer a dangerous cycle of
emotional toxic drinking
is to start thinking smart,
To forgive not forget, 
Bare no grudges,                                                  
self awareness
meditation,                                        
write your triggers.

Drinking for me
was a way of socializing
with friends,
dealing with anxiety,
to help me forget the bad,
in the end all drinking did to me
if anything made me sad,
live my life in regret,   
live my life in shame,  
live my life in fear.
I didn't need alcohol to fit in
with friends in the end,
I lost interest in all my passions in life. Music, Dancing, poetry  and Open Mic.  Nothing I tried excited me no more; I felt numb.
I no longer able to write
or recite anything,
words and thoughts became jumbled
and abstract in my mind.  
I lost the way, I lost my identity
I lost my self respect,
pint after pint;
every day suffering from amnesia,
more confusion not knowing
who I am?  where I am?
I became angry and irritable
at even the slightest thing,
emotionally hurting people
that got in the way
only mission for the day
was to survive and                            
chase the next fix.

Was it really worth it in the end,
chasing that unachievable high
when in reality you felt like you were really going around in circles
over an cliff.  

I believe the hugest high in life fulfilling the ultimate purpose,
An real dream,
being the mother to my
beautiful daughter Sophie,
having people in my life that loves
and respects me and of course being able to communicate and write again.
been ten months sober and its been a personal choice if you can drink one or two power to you a poem to educate about the dangers of alcohol and my personal experiences its all in the balance drink responsibly
Black Jewelz Nov 2016
Welcome to the picaresque, pick a risk then pick a rest. Make sure it is picturesque. Flick the pest, the child who’ll grow to live off trysts and slit her wrist. The usual for the unusual, victims of the few who shall use you all. View a child atop the hugest wall. We used to bawl for him to come to a stall, now we call for him to make a move and fall. Stay there, son. A weird son, aware some. Beware ****, he’s fearsome. So veer from the glossed frost on the dross. See the tears run from the pail tossed. Speak of your fears none while we await the pale horse. Run your frail course, walk the trail lost and hail costs. Still, it’s to no avail, boss.

Loss.

This is … a verbal Picasso, an herbal antipasto, a historian’s emporium showcasing ancient fossils in a Costco. The VIP is reserved for the lost souls… who know they’re lost souls. There’s a red carpet with a tar pit leading to the flying car market. Prospects get a starter kit if they can test drive and park it on target. Watch out for the Barkets, zombified studs and starlets who’ve lost wits—walk into Target, get a guitar pick to shave their armpits and use a hair to floss with. Mark it; don’t forget or ignore this flawless gauntlet—you could call it an ornate orchid—designed to sting like hornets and upset and offset from the onset. This is … a director on set, an astronaut prepared and all set—just hasn’t launched yet. A gambler who never lost bets or brought debts. A fish who’s caught nets, a hostage who spoke threats, a treasure in a closed chest on a tall crest above a forest.

No rest.

A small test against the zest of this poet’s. I’ll pass the test then pass the test to the next. At a desk impress, confess or jest your best. Dress the mess in less and less duress. Address the text, your stress prevents success. Press, don’t guess—think steps ahead like chess.

Yes.

I used to ride through cities on Shadowfax, now I ride through on shadows’ backs. With a daunting scepter, haunting specters with shallow laughs that strike like a jagged axe. A gaze that stuns, and burns like a graze from the sun. Yeah, a scowl from beneath a cowl, as I growl, howl and prowl on a brazen run. On a mission to save the sons, and save the daughters—the sacred ones. I am the likes of Vader’s son. Sent by the Ancient One (not Doctor Strange’s one), I came tamed, unchained, trained with a light saber and a laser gun. Steel teeth, quasar gums and a razor tongue. Peering where the Savior hung. Praising with a raging lung. Fist raised with a flaming thumb. Dangling from an aging rung. There is nothing another man can save me from.

You got something to add? …

Save me sum.
Donall Dempsey Aug 2018
LITTLE RED PLANET

Like a perfect little planet
the tiniest strawberry of ever & ever

sat in the universe
of your palm

us two
nothing but specks
(you in a blue dress)  

in the middle of the hugest field
in the world

green as
Forever is.

“Eat it..! ”
you laugh
“...in one bite! ”

Offering me the little red planet
in the universe of your open hand.

I lap at it
licking up the taste of it

intense as
the taste

of ever & ever is

the deliciousness
of your laughter

but the money
in the meter of memory

runs out

and the loveliness
of your laughter

delicious as
a little red planet

(the salty tang of your hand)  

hides
once again

in the mystery of Time
AmberLynne Jul 2014
We're terrible at goodbyes.
It's probably what we're worst at
in our relationship.
We suddenly turn into one of those
mushy couples everyone gags around,
unable to part each other's company,
constantly returning for "just one more."
Goodbyes are the worst,
and we **** at them.
Yet every time you leave me,
I am left with the hugest grin
on my face, unable to contain myself
because someone such as you
loves me so dearly
that it's a struggle
to part ways.
So although I know
I'll miss you terribly,
and we quite simply **** at goodbyes,
I'm always left behind
in the best of moods,
filled to the brim
with my love for you.
rare-and-rad Oct 2014
**** its been years since this thoughts had popped in my head
some of them were good , some were bad, some caused my life to be dead
i cry from tears of joy, sadness, and anger
sometimes i can really put my life at at a risk, at danger
so many dates, and still its a gashly fade
wouldn't be myself if it wasn't for the memories i made
i saw my mom cry for the endless addings of the problems
i saw her giving me her hand when i said i don't know how ill slove them
i saw my nephew being born again and again until i see the signs
im stuck in addiction, and i cant figure out why?
i saw the cop chasing me down to a dead end stop, until i got to the ground
i saw myself lookin at my stupidity luaghting at everything around
i dont see a childhood, and i cant see my future
but i can say what i am know , i need the help, a injection with a cure
i dont sleep and don't eat and only cried about a few times
i still see myself on the corner street asking for nickels and dimes
im sorry mom i love you, i committed the hugest mistake
but this situation isnt just a piece of cake
i see my self walk and talk about gibberish crap
i dont like this stupid cheessy unsexual rap
tranquil Feb 2014
Hours, she sits there on the bench. Her shiny brunette hair dances joyously with the wind and brushes against her soft pale cheeks while staring solemnly at the sun, setting at the horizon and only as you gaze down at her deep blue eyes, that you get to see the pain and misery burrowed deep within her soul.

Gracefully, she stands as the wind speedily picks up its pace with her skirt moving madly above her knees. Starting to walk on gritty sands; leaving an etched footprint to what momentarily will be a past like any other tomorrow...Midway she stops and looks straight out to the open sky that’s been mixed with hues of red. Quietly she lets the calling of birds and the whisper of winds drift away her soul from the little things that held her back. Closed eyes, she starts to breathe deep in; filling her lungs as she tries to reminiscence the early childhood days, “Oh, what days those were! Not having any fear to what has beholden in front of you, as the caring of your parents were an armor to anything bad that was entrusted upon you; and there you were creating an imaginary world of your own that made you feel the strongest of all” she thought.

The sudden noise of waves clashing against the rocks breaks the deep emotions running through her mind leaving a half empty thought hanging around. Annoyed, she picks up the lens that’s been dangling around her neck; peeks through to capture the beauty in peace. Slowly, she bursts out in sigh of relief as she whispers to herself, “Photography is one of the reasons that always kept me going; it was a way of hiding behind a camera and not expose your weakness. All those years being the puppet of fate I spent many nights wishing at the evening’s shining star for a breakthrough. The regret of having left my family at such an innocent and vulnerable stage where I had to fight off for a better life; while my friends went on with their smooth journey’’. Having said that a little soft voice starts to fill the air. ‘’Mommy mommy?’’ turning her head with an abrupt smile looks at the direction of the voice. Before her stands a very young girl with long wavy pig tails in a peachy- pink dress.

Bending down she lends an ear, ‘Yes sweetie?’’ and the little girl continues with full of light and excitement. ‘’Mommy look at what I got, it’s a pearl!!!’’ Opens her little soft palms and there smiling at them was the hugest pearl ever to be found on that beach. ‘’Mommy do you think by me finding this make me a princess of the sea?’’ She laughs thinking of her imaginations when she was at her age. ‘’Yes Tia why not! Maybe when you grow up there’ll be a prince waiting to swipe you across your feet and take you off to your wonderful journey where you’d be ruling your own little world’’. She takes her hand in hers and starts to walk off along the shore. Waves covering their feet just as when Tia starts to whisper, ‘’Mom, I want to be in a world just like yours!’’ She looks down at her with a smile that hid a silent tear. “It might not have turned out the way I wanted; but the one thing I’m always proud to have is you!.”
(c) Farheen Nabi, 2006, All rights reserved to the author.
Kimberley Leiser Oct 2023
Cyber bullies stop picking on me because I can't always speak, write or read as well as you can.

One of these days I will prove you all wrong and really improve all my skills enough to do well again in life: then you will  be feeling like the hugest idiot in life and not me.

Stop making my life hell.

The cyber bullies are really the weak ones.

They have their own insecurities I can tell.

I am an really nice lady you just really need to take the time to really get to know me.

I really just want respect, friendship and love in this world.

I never really hurt anyone intentionally but other people have actually really hurt me.

I really just want myself and other people to be happy.

I don't want no more threats from you cyber bullies.

All day you hide your true identity behind that screen.

I'm sick of you cyber bullies  constantly laughing at my comments.

I really just had enough of  the cyber bullies.

Why have you got be so mean?

Living with migraines every day is already an huge  punishment enough for me.

I would not even wish this pain and sadness on my worst enemy.

I will keep trying every day to get better.

I will ignore all the negativity and  the pain that you cyber bullies  have all caused me from this very day.
rare-and-rad Oct 2014
Realization could be the hugest  relief or the imagination of hurt

I remember when I'd do nothing in class but draw and listen to Kurt

Mistakes turn to undiscovered
futures , unknown yet made memories

So we can forget about the pain, love, and endless worries

Imagination holds the keys to unopened doors

Dreams probably are the reason why it feels like we hit the floor

Jesus is just a name that kills and heals

Religion are human thoughts of gods making deals

Gifts can be anything and arrive at unexpected moments

To brighten up the sky shoot a flare sit back and have some enjoyment

The brain of a human runs an endless marathon of disaster and successes

anything can get fixed, got water, some soap, and a rag let's clean up the messes
Skai Feb 2014
She's been there since
the 4th grade.
The years where there were no scars
on my arm,
when our smiles shone through the stars,
where out friendship was new with years to come.

I don't know how it is
that I can love someone so much without actually being
in love with her.

She is my best friend.

She's always been there,
even when it was tough.
We worked things out,
it's a new start.

She showed me how to be happy,
how to cry because I'm the one who made the
hugest impact on her,
how to love someone unconditionally,
without having a relationship.

She is the sun that my lightens my day,
and the stars that lighten my night.

She is the intelligence that I feed off of
on those nights.

That day I told her I had harmed,
oh how she hated herself for not being there.
And I hated myself for the pain I had caused my better half.

That night that we opened and looked out my window,
let the cold breeze hit our faces.
Listened to music.
We did not speak a word.  

When she hates herself it pains me,
because she has no idea what she really is.
She is perfect to me.

She is my best friend,
a rare one at that.
Jordan Frances Apr 2014
This isn't me
Or is it?
Could it be
A newer version
Of me?
I really am
Not its hugest fan.
I miss
The old me
The one who
Was all smiles
All the time.
The girl who could
Cheer anybody up
Even when her own life
Was left in shambles.
That person
Who rarely let
Her personal and professional lives
Intertwine themselves
Within one another.
That lovely almost woman
Who stood for everything
Even when
It was too big for her to
Take on alone.
Where is she?
Where did she go?
She left when you
*Left her.
I have not been the same since my grandpa passed away.  I wish I could say that it had not affected me as much as it has.
Amanda Kay Burke Mar 2018
I do not know why life is so unfair
Why are the best people dealt the most hurt?
The ones with the hugest hearts
Love those who treat them like dirt.
Why do we hurt the ones who love us,  and love the ones that hurt us?
Donall Dempsey Aug 2022
LITTLE RED PLANET

Like a perfect little planet
the tiniest strawberry of ever & ever

sat in the universe
of your palm

us two
nothing but specks
(you in a blue dress)  

in the middle of the hugest field
in the world

green as
Forever is.

“Eat it..! ”
you laugh
“...in one bite! ”

Offering me the little red planet
in the universe of your open hand.

I lap at it
licking up the taste of it

intense as
the taste

of ever & ever is

the deliciousness
of your laughter

but the money
in the meter of memory

runs out

and the loveliness
of your laughter

delicious as
a little red planet

(the salty tang of your hand)  

hides
once again

in the mystery of Time.
Trying to present my self as intellectual.
Makes me look like im pathetic.
I flow like water in the ocean.
Get it going like diaretic.
Spider senses start to tingle.
For the web site Christian mingle. Where I met a guy named
Shannon  bingle. Man actually had me shingle
Married to the roofing life.
Like Taylor Mackinney to her kraft singles.
Cheesy as they come. Logan gablehouse.  Is greasy.
The world is
thirsty for the fast deal
Sign like handcock on the contract.
Pro ball scholarship
But give handjobs in the back field.
Tyson smokes so much Marijuana
He knows how being black feels
When interrogated by the cops
Paranoia he doesn't act real.
My mom thinks she's European.
No native blood.
I asked her how does that feel.
She replied in French with Jordan gablehouse. Do you wanna taste your last meal...
J said you *******. Tell me how the grass feels.
And keegan just like forest Gump.
Hes dashing through the back marsh
To avoid the dudes with fast cars
Who blame him for doing bath salts...
Jack jack wanted aish so bad.
He collapsed in madness with me **** it yesh man thats real. And sad
Drugs I'm so disgusted by. I'm bring serious to say this jack. Man
You gotta say your peace. To the fake back stabbers and not take it ******* back
Get clean and sober. Stay on track
With medication.
And watch how much fakeness your closest friends shape shift and react
Funny stuff aside.
Manas really great with that.
She took two dumb ******* crazy rats.
Caged in habitat. And made them slay a crazy rap....than slaughtered them for science. Donated their *******. To science. Experiment gone violent.
She's not ok with that.
Karmin is an angel.
Thinks she names all that.
Inside her head. A secret undercover braniac.
And Riley is an amazing man.
Talented and brave as stan
But I didn't tell you.
Stan is my fan name.
When I'm ****** mister nameless slim shadey type of ****. To some gangster jams....
Grandma Gisele is a thank you mam
Do you actually spank the ham
Like Christmas web cam. Food. ****.
Christmas day. You can thank my hand....
Richard gablehouse. Was pregnant with a chicken glaze.
He undressed food so many different ways
Little booties on the Christmas bird.
Bout to expose those little legs...
Oh its just humor ***** slip off the case.
I love my dad yo pieces.
There's a reason I'm a little raged.
No one seen the terrifying look
He harbored just for me.
When I didn't obey....
We got over all that.
Cleared that **** away
We had to make up. Every 15 seconds
New fight but its a different day
I feel bad. But hey its meant this way...
Alex Fanta was in debt to native medicine that made him good and gay...
His wood is great... i hear Scott hedge brag. You thought I didn't love you guys cmon. Don't be dumb AND gay
I woulda say.
She should stayed.
But cherry your a woman stain.
You look like hulk had a vasectomy and you got the ******* stuff that hangs...
Just kidding love you babe. I'm just trying to be funny.
Scare you
Cherry you ******* dummy.
I'll always provide for you with money.
But you gotta be so ******* stun. You refuse me rights. To my kids who absolutely love me.
I said ill always take care of you.
But your going to have to stop being a dummy....
Derek Moore you mega *******.
Your nieces self  esteem is ripped. And all your other kiddies jeans. *** you had to be inside  it you ******* *******...... go eat a demons ****.. id rather be a traffic cone in **** t least you'd see my **** than be your only reason why you didn't commit suicide when God agreed with it..  at least coulda did it for the ones you loved. I know thats fuckinv mean and **** but next time you **** with me jm going to have you seeing ****...
Cherry entire family. Hold up freeze it quick. While we're out and telling secrets quick.
I ****** Ashley's boyfridnds ***** yep. At least before you two met.
I did alot of foolish ****.....
Corsette and lingerie. And of course his *** stain ruined it...
Just kidding couldnt get him off. Or even fit it in. No room and ****.
He got the hugest ****.... don't know how you don't get split in two and ****... ******* ruined *****
Or at least get **** sized bruises on your ***** and hips.
Whatever not 100 percent certain but I hope if it is true you say your cool with it.....
Dylan Hutchison I love you but you never grew up actually knowing me.
You kids **** on your dad. I know it hurt you but it had broken me...
I get it he was drunk and druggy.
But he loved you two so devotely.
Just wish you had some time.
While he was living to start showing me. You were open to him emotionally
I get it. You were busy.  Coulda sent him via email. artwork dreams and poetry... so he knows how much you truly love him.
Beneath the disconnection. Tell him how bad a place your feeling come from...
Moving on. Forget deceased.
There's still a bunch of dumb *****.
Reese swampy drop your pants punchline like 8 mile at the lunch truck...
Lyssa let's get frisky. While your cats lick my nuts like going down after 60 rounds suffering they ******* punch drunk....

Sha you **** ***** I still got a **** lets make it happen...
Prefer dudes. But who's to say a little **** show couldn't happen.
We actually had a ******* with hot muscled Travis.
We got his **** in me my **** in you
And did a little jordan sandwich...
Sheldon chartrand I masturbated thinking of you ******* me ******* it....
You could slam the pack of shingles fast. So **** black and tanned yep...
Thought about your fast hands so hot like a math lab with the Cranstons...
Exploding for Chris Roan.. who?? Chris roan... a sickness no different from cancer... i felt so much love for you. But had no ******* hope or answers... you didn't know I was this way inside. Just the way God had to plan it.... you coulda made me feel included though with out you I couldn't understand it.....theres was just this separation. Anxiety. And sadness...renuka your my favorite. Of all my mental workers...
I came to you a creep hell bent on ******. And you repurposed my inside sanity. Restoring me to perfect...
Cleared my name to child service workers..
And did me such a service...
Ryan too and garry. At least you guys live through your purpose...
Helping hand and gentle hands.
Reach every different person..
Liseanne your ******* gorgeous.
Picture perfect
**** enormous... but you set me up for stis in your quest to send off young Brianna... i got chaffing in my ****.
*** you hooked her up with more dudes. Than rihanna...
In the back of your mini van or suv can't stand it but the infection had been managed...
Sorry rihanna... I love uou your thr best so beautiful can hardly stand it
I'm rambling oh yeah let me be candid. About Travis. Matron was his last name. And he smoked crack so ******* savage.. child psychologist slash roofer. I actually believed you in a panic... don't know who's stupider. The dude who won the poker game for hoarding the titanic or the dude that.
Lost his pride and got his poker *** kicked...
Jade my truest form of poetry in nervous flight.
My girl of mine.
My nervous rhymes.
Could not muster up at courage time..
Your my first love.
For a reason the best is always first in line..
But I ****** and hurt your mind...
With my words and worthless spine..
You deserve so much in life.
I hope you know I think your worth our time...
Like a child is bursting with a nursery rhyme...
Okay its ******* ****** time...
Steven Irvine your a word so
***** it perturbs my mind.
Disturbed that I. Would like you to have courage. And turn your rap gift into words that rhyme and.
******* merk the earth this time...
Tyler moose you ***** line.
Sniffed off jet lis little ****...
You **** more ***** than Jason Bixby.
Holy **** he takes alot...
Its cool though. Say im sorry...
My motto is keep on trucking...
So much more ok so **** it..
I'll keep rambling on bout nothing....
Kayla gambler think we made a babie.. but you didn't tell me...
I hope whoever she belongs to that she's happy safe and healthy...
Nolan Robb I'm sorry for saying you ****** **** for crack. At the time my thought was that was wack. Until I sunk as low as that... current day just ****** an old guy for a sack of Molly and an open pack.... Daryl Marshall your a good dude... but your ****** up deep inside.. i can see it in your eyes... your scared of being wrong and aldo being right... you fear failure fear success. And you fly off the ******* handle... ive seen my dad get mad but jees loiuise he couldn't hold a candle...
You make Rambo look like prolapse ****** sagging in the sun...
Old ******* on your rage is much more destructive than a gun....
Jordan Marshall your a *** stain that should sat on Michelle's tongue....
Swallowed did a good job. Just ******* kidding bud.... your pretty ******* funny. And also pretty dumb ..
But at least your not like Tyler marsh shoving fisher price toys in his ***....
Oh please I got uou all beat and then some the world knows my story...
Would you call it boring... **** no.
But I no longer want the sea being stormy. I just wanna find one man after surgery get ***** and tilt his single axis planet into orbital retraction. Supernova. Every morning. ****** sweaty pores. From ***** inter planetary pornscenes.. but first I gotta morph. Into a woman so I feel more like my self inside. Its more rewarding..
To not ignore your thoughts. To have some wants. Take off early system warnings. Relax. And dream of rap gods. Jesus. And the last 15 years of poor me...



...
Donall Dempsey Aug 2017
LITTLE RED PLANET




Like a perfect little planet

the tiniest strawberry of ever & ever




sat in the universe

of your palm




us two

nothing but specks

(you in a blue dress)  




in the middle of the hugest field

in the world




green as

Forever is.




“Eat it..! ”

you laugh

“...in one bite! ”




Offering me the little red planet

in the universe of your open hand.




I lap at it

licking up the taste of it




intense as

the taste




of ever & ever is




the deliciousness

of your laughter




but the money

in the meter of memory




runs out




and the loveliness

of your laughter




delicious as

a little red planet




(the salty tang of your hand)  




hides

once again




in the mystery of Time
Honey Smith Aug 2018
This is a call of distress
A distress call but also a warning because they have locked me up in a castle.
Only i dont have a window to cry out from.
To look lonely and sad from
To see my prince charming from.
(If after this he wants to come at all....)
They've locked me up in a dungeon.
Chained me to the walls
Blocked with concrete every crack and hole.
And in utter darkness I sit. Rage I spit.
I cried away all the hope and pity long ago
Now what is left is pure anger and the hugest ego.
Understand! I had to toughen up my skin
Because the darkness took away my light within
My fingers, tired of the constant wounds are ****** and raw.
Clawing away at these chains they've become claws.
My eyes in protest to the dark have become an angry red.
My heart!It has turned to the coldest lead
All those who visited to give me food and "nourishment" have blown away like ashes
Now I am surrounded with mountains and mountains of soot.
And don't you dare pity me. I treasure this. Its my personal loot.
Who needs men who look at you with fear in their eyes?!
Cowards all of them! Good riddance and goodbye!!
I am calling out to someone who will step into the darkness and claim it.
Look into this fire and tame it.
This is a call of distress but also a warning.
I am not joking.
Come only if you are confident you will leave alive...
Oh and in case you can't find me. Il be the one breathing fire.
John Bartholomew Mar 2021
This album reminds me of another time
Before I committed the most selfish of personal crimes
Upsetting the odds and breaking up lifes timetable
To become paralysed and a whole less able
No words can explain my personal pain
To have left my loved ones in the hugest downpour of rain
Escaping on lifes support whilst oblivious in an induced coma
Such a selfish *******, yes I know
Please don't go there
For I love the people who stuck with me through each and every scene
Without you, Jeez, where would I now have been
As I now feel that one word that's sown up my loose seems,
Redeemed

JJB
Redemption is not perfection. The redeemed must realize their imperfections. - John Piper

People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone. - Audrey Hepburn
Sru Oct 2020
Love you gave is hugest,
Pain I bear is the gift.
Laugh you made is the teary oceans,
Words you spoke is my breathy air.
Kiss you offer is the indestructible print
Hands you hold is the non-erasable finger print...

— The End —