Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,

Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.

Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?

Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.

Thence we went on to the Aeoli island where lives ****** son of
Hippotas, dear to the immortal gods. It is an island that floats (as
it were) upon the sea, iron bound with a wall that girds it. Now,
****** has six daughters and six ***** sons, so he made the sons marry
the daughters, and they all live with their dear father and mother,
feasting and enjoying every conceivable kind of luxury. All day long
the atmosphere of the house is loaded with the savour of roasting
meats till it groans again, yard and all; but by night they sleep on
their well-made bedsteads, each with his own wife between the
blankets. These were the people among whom we had now come.
  “****** entertained me for a whole month asking me questions all the
time about Troy, the Argive fleet, and the return of the Achaeans. I
told him exactly how everything had happened, and when I said I must
go, and asked him to further me on my way, he made no sort of
difficulty, but set about doing so at once. Moreover, he flayed me a
prime ox-hide to hold the ways of the roaring winds, which he shut
up in the hide as in a sack—for Jove had made him captain over the
winds, and he could stir or still each one of them according to his
own pleasure. He put the sack in the ship and bound the mouth so
tightly with a silver thread that not even a breath of a side-wind
could blow from any quarter. The West wind which was fair for us did
he alone let blow as it chose; but it all came to nothing, for we were
lost through our own folly.
  “Nine days and nine nights did we sail, and on the tenth day our
native land showed on the horizon. We got so close in that we could
see the stubble fires burning, and I, being then dead beat, fell
into a light sleep, for I had never let the rudder out of my own
hands, that we might get home the faster. On this the men fell to
talking among themselves, and said I was bringing back gold and silver
in the sack that ****** had given me. ‘Bless my heart,’ would one turn
to his neighbour, saying, ‘how this man gets honoured and makes
friends to whatever city or country he may go. See what fine prizes he
is taking home from Troy, while we, who have travelled just as far
as he has, come back with hands as empty as we set out with—and now
****** has given him ever so much more. Quick—let us see what it
all is, and how much gold and silver there is in the sack he gave
him.’
  “Thus they talked and evil counsels prevailed. They loosed the sack,
whereupon the wind flew howling forth and raised a storm that
carried us weeping out to sea and away from our own country. Then I
awoke, and knew not whether to throw myself into the sea or to live on
and make the best of it; but I bore it, covered myself up, and lay
down in the ship, while the men lamented bitterly as the fierce
winds bore our fleet back to the Aeolian island.
  “When we reached it we went ashore to take in water, and dined
hard by the ships. Immediately after dinner I took a herald and one of
my men and went straight to the house of ******, where I found him
feasting with his wife and family; so we sat down as suppliants on the
threshold. They were astounded when they saw us and said, ‘Ulysses,
what brings you here? What god has been ill-treating you? We took
great pains to further you on your way home to Ithaca, or wherever
it was that you wanted to go to.’
  “Thus did they speak, but I answered sorrowfully, ‘My men have
undone me; they, and cruel sleep, have ruined me. My friends, mend
me this mischief, for you can if you will.’
  “I spoke as movingly as I could, but they said nothing, till their
father answered, ‘Vilest of mankind, get you gone at once out of the
island; him whom heaven hates will I in no wise help. Be off, for
you come here as one abhorred of heaven. “And with these words he sent
me sorrowing from his door.
  “Thence we sailed sadly on till the men were worn out with long
and fruitless rowing, for there was no longer any wind to help them.
Six days, night and day did we toil, and on the seventh day we reached
the rocky stronghold of Lamus—Telepylus, the city of the
Laestrygonians, where the shepherd who is driving in his sheep and
goats [to be milked] salutes him who is driving out his flock [to
feed] and this last answers the salute. In that country a man who
could do without sleep might earn double wages, one as a herdsman of
cattle, and another as a shepherd, for they work much the same by
night as they do by day.
  “When we reached the harbour we found it land-locked under steep
cliffs, with a narrow entrance between two headlands. My captains took
all their ships inside, and made them fast close to one another, for
there was never so much as a breath of wind inside, but it was
always dead calm. I kept my own ship outside, and moored it to a
rock at the very end of the point; then I climbed a high rock to
reconnoitre, but could see no sign neither of man nor cattle, only
some smoke rising from the ground. So I sent two of my company with an
attendant to find out what sort of people the inhabitants were.
  “The men when they got on shore followed a level road by which the
people draw their firewood from the mountains into the town, till
presently they met a young woman who had come outside to fetch
water, and who was daughter to a Laestrygonian named Antiphates. She
was going to the fountain Artacia from which the people bring in their
water, and when my men had come close up to her, they asked her who
the king of that country might be, and over what kind of people he
ruled; so she directed them to her father’s house, but when they got
there they found his wife to be a giantess as huge as a mountain,
and they were horrified at the sight of her.
  “She at once called her husband Antiphates from the place of
assembly, and forthwith he set about killing my men. He snatched up
one of them, and began to make his dinner off him then and there,
whereon the other two ran back to the ships as fast as ever they
could. But Antiphates raised a hue and cry after them, and thousands
of sturdy Laestrygonians sprang up from every quarter—ogres, not men.
They threw vast rocks at us from the cliffs as though they had been
mere stones, and I heard the horrid sound of the ships crunching up
against one another, and the death cries of my men, as the
Laestrygonians speared them like fishes and took them home to eat
them. While they were thus killing my men within the harbour I drew my
sword, cut the cable of my own ship, and told my men to row with alf
their might if they too would not fare like the rest; so they laid out
for their lives, and we were thankful enough when we got into open
water out of reach of the rocks they hurled at us. As for the others
there was not one of them left.
  “Thence we sailed sadly on, glad to have escaped death, though we
had lost our comrades, and came to the Aeaean island, where Circe
lives a great and cunning goddess who is own sister to the magician
Aeetes—for they are both children of the sun by Perse, who is
daughter to Oceanus. We brought our ship into a safe harbour without a
word, for some god guided us thither, and having landed we there for
two days and two nights, worn out in body and mind. When the morning
of the third day came I took my spear and my sword, and went away from
the ship to reconnoitre, and see if I could discover signs of human
handiwork, or hear the sound of voices. Climbing to the top of a
high look-out I espied the smoke of Circe’s house rising upwards
amid a dense forest of trees, and when I saw this I doubted whether,
having seen the smoke, I would not go on at once and find out more,
but in the end I deemed it best to go back to the ship, give the men
their dinners, and send some of them instead of going myself.
  “When I had nearly got back to the ship some god took pity upon my
solitude, and sent a fine antlered stag right into the middle of my
path. He was coming down his pasture in the forest to drink of the
river, for the heat of the sun drove him, and as he passed I struck
him in the middle of the back; the bronze point of the spear went
clean through him, and he lay groaning in the dust until the life went
out of him. Then I set my foot upon him, drew my spear from the wound,
and laid it down; I also gathered rough grass and rushes and twisted
them into a fathom or so of good stout rope, with which I bound the
four feet of the noble creature together; having so done I hung him
round my neck and walked back to the ship leaning upon my spear, for
the stag was much too big for me to be able to carry him on my
shoulder, steadying him with one hand. As I threw him down in front of
the ship, I called the men and spoke cheeringly man by man to each
of them. ‘Look here my friends,’ said I, ‘we are not going to die so
much before our time after all, and at any rate we will not starve
so long as we have got something to eat and drink on board.’ On this
they uncovered their heads upon the sea shore and admired the stag,
for he was indeed a splendid fellow. Then, when they had feasted their
eyes upon him sufficiently, they washed their hands and began to
cook him for dinner.
  “Thus through the livelong day to the going down of the sun we
stayed there eating and drinking our fill, but when the sun went
down and it came on dark, we camped upon the sea shore. When the child
of morning, fingered Dawn, appeared, I called a council and said,
‘My friends, we are in very great difficulties; listen therefore to
me. We have no idea where the sun either sets or rises, so that we
do not even know East from West. I see no way out of it; nevertheless,
we must try and find one. We are certainly on an island, for I went as
high as I could this morning, and saw the sea reaching all round it to
the horizon; it lies low, but towards the middle I saw smoke rising
from out of a thick forest of trees.’
  “Their hearts sank as they heard me, for they remembered how they
had been treated by the Laestrygonian Antiphates, and by the savage
ogre Polyphemus. They wept bitterly in their dismay, but there was
nothing to be got by crying, so I divided them into two companies
and set a captain over each; I gave one company to Eurylochus, while I
took command of the other myself. Then we cast lots in a helmet, and
the lot fell upon Eurylochus; so he set out with his twenty-two men,
and they wept, as also did we who were left behind.
  “When they reached Circe’s house they found it built of cut
stones, on a site that could be seen from far, in the middle of the
forest. There were wild mountain wolves and lions prowling all round
it—poor bewitched creatures whom she had tamed by her enchantments
and drugged into subjection. They did not attack my men, but wagged
their great tails, fawned upon them, and rubbed their noses lovingly
against them. As hounds crowd round their master when they see him
coming from dinner—for they know he will bring them something—even
so did these wolves and lions with their great claws fawn upon my men,
but the men were terribly frightened at seeing such strange creatures.
Presently they reached the gates of the goddess’s house, and as they
stood there they could hear Circe within, singing most beautifully
as she worked at her loom, making a web so fine, so soft, and of
such dazzling colours as no one but a goddess could weave. On this
Polites, whom I valued and trusted more than any other of my men,
said, ‘There is some one inside working at a loom and singing most
beautifully; the whole place resounds with it, let us call her and see
whether she is woman or goddess.’
  “They called her and she came down, unfastened the door, and bade
them enter. They, thinking no evil, followed her, all except
Eurylochus, who suspected mischief and stayed outside. When she had
got them into her house, she set them upon benches and seats and mixed
them a mess with cheese, honey, meal, and Pramnian but she drugged
it with wicked poisons to make them forget their homes, and when
they had drunk she turned them into pigs by a stroke of her wand,
and shut them up in her pigsties. They were like pigs-head, hair,
and all, and they grunted just as pigs do; but their senses were the
same as before, and they remembered everything.
  “Thus then were they shut up squealing, and Circe threw them some
acorns and beech masts such as pigs eat, but Eurylochus hurried back
to tell me about the sad fate of our comrades. He was so overcome with
dismay that though he tried to speak he could find no words to do
so; his eyes filled with tears and he could only sob and sigh, till at
last we forced his story out of him, and he told us what had
happened to the others.
  “‘We went,’ said he, as you told us, through the forest, and in
the middle of it there was a fine house built with cut stones in a
place that could be seen from far. There we found a woman, or else she
was a goddess, working at her loom and singing sweetly; so the men
shouted to her and called her, whereon she at once came down, opened
the door, and invited us in. The others did not suspect any mischief
so they followed her into the house, but I stayed where I was, for I
thought there might be some treachery. From that moment I saw them
no more, for not one of them ever came out, though I sat a long time
watching for them.’
  “Then I took my sword of bronze and slung it over my shoulders; I
also took my bow, and told Eurylochus to come back with me and show me
the way. But he laid hold of me with both his hands and spoke
piteously, saying, ‘Sir, do not force me to go with you, but let me
stay here, for I know you will not bring one of them back with you,
nor even return alive yourself; let us rather see if we cannot
escape at any rate with the few that are left us, for we may still
save our lives.’
  “‘Stay where you are, then, ‘answered I, ‘eating and drinking at the
ship, but I must go, for I am most urgently bound to do so.’
  “With this I left the ship and went up inland. When I got through
the charmed grove, and was near the great house of the enchantress
Circe, I met Mercury with his golden wand, disguised as a young man in
the hey-day of his youth and beauty with the down just coming upon his
face. He came up to me and took my hand within his own, saying, ‘My
poor unhappy man, whither are you going over this mountain top,
alone and without knowing the way? Your men are shut up in Circe’s
pigsties, like so many wild boars in their lairs. You surely do not
fancy that you can set them free? I can tell you that you will never
get back and will have to stay there with the rest of them. But
never mind, I will protect you and get you out of your difficulty.
Take this herb, which is one of great virtue, and keep it about you
when you go to Circe’s house, it will be a talisman to you against
every kind of mischief.
  “‘And I will tell you of all the wicked witchcraft that Circe will
try to practise upon you. She will mix a mess for you to drink, and
she will drug the meal with which she makes it, but she will not be
able to charm you, for the virtue of the herb that I shall give you
will prevent her spells from working. I will tell you all about it.
When Circe strikes you with her wand, draw your sword and spring
upon her as though you were goings to **** her. She will then be
frightened and will desire you to go to bed with her; on this you must
not point blank refuse her, for you want her to set your companions
free, and to take good care also of yourself, but you make her swear
solemnly by all the blessed that she will plot no further mischief
against you, or else when she has got you naked she will unman you and
make you fit for nothing.’
  “As he spoke he pulled the herb out of the ground an showed me
what it was like. The root was black, while the flower was as white as
milk; the gods call it Moly, and mortal men cannot uproot it, but
the gods can do whatever they like.
  “Then Mercury went back to high Olympus passing over the wooded
island; but I fared onward to the house of Circe, and my heart was
clouded with care as I walked along. When I got to the gates I stood
there and called the goddess, and as soon as she hear

The Lotos-Eaters

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land,
"This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
In the afternoon they came unto a land
In which it seemed always afternoon.
All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.

A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,
Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;
And some thro' wavering lights and shadows broke,
Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
They saw the gleaming river seaward flow
From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,
Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,
Stood sunset-flush'd: and, dew'd with showery drops,
Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.

The charmed sunset linger'd low adown
In the red West: thro' mountain clefts the dale
Was seen far inland, and the yellow down
Border'd with palm, and many a winding vale
And meadow, set with slender galingale;
A land where all things always seem'd the same!
And round about the keel with faces pale,
Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,
The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.

Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
To each, but whoso did receive of them,
And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
Far far away did seem to mourn and rave
On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,
His voice was thin, as voices from the grave;
And deep-asleep he seem'd, yet all awake,
And music in his ears his beating heart did make.

They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
Between the sun and moon upon the shore;
And sweet it was to dream of Fatherland,
Of child, and wife, and slave; but evermore
Most weary seem'd the sea, weary the oar,
Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.
Then some one said, "We will return no more";
And all at once they sang, "Our island home
Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam."

   Choric Song

        I

There is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
Or night-dews on still waters between walls
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,
Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes;
Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.
Here are cool mosses deep,
And thro' the moss the ivies creep,
And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,
And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.

        II

Why are we weigh'd upon with heaviness,
And utterly consumed with sharp distress,
While all things else have rest from weariness?
All things have rest: why should we toil alone,
We only toil, who are the first of things,
And make perpetual moan,
Still from one sorrow to another thrown:
Nor ever fold our wings,
And cease from wanderings,
Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm;
Nor harken what the inner spirit sings,
"There is no joy but calm!"
Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?

        III

Lo! in the middle of the wood,
The folded leaf is woo'd from out the bud
With winds upon the branch, and there
Grows green and broad, and takes no care,
Sun-steep'd at noon, and in the moon
Nightly dew-fed; and turning yellow
Falls, and floats adown the air.
Lo! sweeten'd with the summer light,
The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow,
Drops in a silent autumn night.
All its allotted length of days
The flower ripens in its place,
Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil,
Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.

        IV

Hateful is the dark-blue sky,
Vaulted o'er the dark-blue sea.
Death is the end of life; ah, why
Should life all labour be?
Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast,
And in a little while our lips are dumb.
Let us alone. What is it that will last?
All things are taken from us, and become
Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.
Let us alone. What pleasure can we have
To war with evil? Is there any peace
In ever climbing up the climbing wave?
All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave
In silence; ripen, fall and cease:
Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.

        V

How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream,
With half-shut eyes ever to seem
Falling asleep in a half-dream!
To dream and dream, like yonder amber light,
Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;
To hear each other's whisper'd speech;
Eating the Lotos day by day,
To watch the crisping ripples on the beach,
And tender curving lines of creamy spray;
To lend our hearts and spirits wholly
To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;
To muse and brood and live again in memory,
With those old faces of our infancy
Heap'd over with a mound of grass,
Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass!

        VI

Dear is the memory of our wedded lives,
And dear the last embraces of our wives
And their warm tears: but all hath suffer'd change:
For surely now our household hearths are cold,
Our sons inherit us: our looks are strange:
And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy.
Or else the island princes over-bold
Have eat our substance, and the minstrel sings
Before them of the ten years' war in Troy,
And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things.
Is there confusion in the little isle?
Let what is broken so remain.
The Gods are hard to reconcile:
'Tis hard to settle order once again.
There is confusion worse than death,
Trouble on trouble, pain on pain,
Long labour unto aged breath,
Sore task to hearts worn out by many wars
And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot-stars.

        VII

But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly,
How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly)
With half-dropt eyelid still,
Beneath a heaven dark and holy,
To watch the long bright river drawing slowly
His waters from the purple hill--
To hear the dewy echoes calling
From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vine--
To watch the emerald-colour'd water falling
Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine!
Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine,
Only to hear were sweet, stretch'd out beneath the pine.

        VIII

The Lotos blooms below the barren peak:
The Lotos blows by every winding creek:
All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone:
Thro' every hollow cave and alley lone
Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown.
We have had enough of action, and of motion we,
Roll'd to starboard, roll'd to larboard, when the surge was seething free,
Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea.
Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,
In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined
On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind.
For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurl'd
Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curl'd
Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world:
Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands,
Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands,
Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying hands.
But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song
Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong,
Like a tale of little meaning tho' the words are strong;
Chanted from an ill-used race of men that cleave the soil,
Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil,
Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine and oil;
Till they perish and they suffer--some, 'tis whisper'd--down in hell
Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell,
Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel.
Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore
Than labour in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar;
O, rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more.

The beginning's are the worst for me,
but I prefer the middle, rather than the end;
I'll always enjoy the journey more than the destination.
Great for roadtrips, irritating for bedtime.

I've got baggage, but I don't want to talk about it.
I will listen to yours 'til the cows come home
(and offer you reasonable advice),
but I don't want you to fix me. I've been fixing myself for years.

I may leave you for the milkman,
but only because I have a longstanding relationship with dairy.
Take it as a compliment if I call you a cow.

I would rather help than be loved.
To me, they are not synonymous.
Just like writing in short lines
with even shorter
linebreaks
is not synonymous with poetry.

My rhyme scheme has little structure, but I expect your schema to have a story.

You have to play chess, but well enough to kick my *** occasionally.
Keep me humble.

I will probably be incredibly, secretly needy,
or ridiculously nonchalant.
What human being doesn't yearn for the other side of the looking glass?
My brains are always tumbling and rumbling, though.

Mister, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into.
Me neither.

I'd like to be protected by you,
even though I don't need it.
(I still believe in chivalry).
I like the idea that my honor is worth defending.

I'm still the same 3 year old soul, wandering around
with my microscope and plastic saxophone,
except this time it's linguistic puns and wh- questions
(especially why).
My favorite response being, why not?

I won't ask much of you,
just energy, a soul to squeeze, and a hand to hold;
a body to hug.
But don't worry, you'll get much in return
(probably too much,
at least that's what they tell me).

I talk too much, walk too slow, and am the most
awkwardpersonyou'llevermeet,
all tumbles and rumbles and wiggles.
But I've got a lot to say,
even though I'll always prefer to listen.

I want you to hit me
like a ton of bricks with good intentions.
There's a lot of fire, especially for you, young love.
My heart string and soul swing,
I am yours to mold and shape and croon
(but my heart is not an empty room).
You can move the furniture,
but once you hang up the paintings,
I might just want to keep it.

(That's what I'm worried about)
I want to set your world on fire,
and I want you to set mine alight
(but sometimes I lose the extinguisher).

I'm expecting
nothing
but hoping
for too much.
That's where my tongue gets tied-
I don't know how to take the reigns,
****** you,
or  make myself undeniable,
or irreplaceable.

I don't want to though,
because with enough time,
everything heals.
Memories are alive as long as you think of them.
But after you forget, they rest in peace.
I'd like to be your peace,
piece of apple pie, holy moly me oh my.

Don't fool my janglin' heartstrings
because they'll stretch andstretchandstreeeettch and bend 'til they break.

I don't like talking on the phone.
Make up your own ******* story.

Before this date,
I just want you to know
that I'm slightly crazy, completely ridiculous,
and have a few tales to spin from my fingertips.
(and I wiggle. too much)

I'll be your Jane if you can be my Alexander
or Tarzan.
Noah always needed a whale for his ark.
I probably already think you're funny and cute,
and I'll kiss you all starry eyed, my body swaying from side to side.

I actually don't know what I want.
But I'd like for you to be there when I figure it out.

Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,

Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.

Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?

Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.

Embodied in a perpetual persona of shitheaded seventeen
(Before you snuck out on a cold silver sheet)

You could measure your lifespan (or is it your wingspan, now? did you know it's the same as your height?)  in late-night shenanigans topped with bacon-guaca-holy-moly burgers, tumbling in neon spandex and the raising of general hell, which you probably can't reach right now,

(And how many flaming bags of feces on why-not doorsteps, for me?)

Speaking of me,
Do you remember when I kissed your head beside a broken down photo machine? Do you remember when we ran away from your first girlfriend (her first kiss) and laughed because you had a current girlfriend? Do you remember when we tried out clouds in department store floor levels, like you were planning on getting one all along? Like you were my (first) and now my (late) husband? Three years doesn't seem very long ago, when placed in proportion with - what was that word again - eternity?

You were but a fleeting presence not only in my life, (in her life, his life, their lives now broken from a trio into a typical twosome) but in your very own - one blonde beach-bunny darting from top-hat to top-shelf

(Could you give up World of Warcraft for a World of pearly White?)
(Would you take me to my Senior Prom?)

We will float yellow rubber ducks down the water at your wake (one by one) and eat food-court teriyaki because no one is allowed to be sad (says you)

(Jesus, baby, what's your dang address?!)

In the end, you ride off into the sunset on your unicycle, like the bad movie that this is
(Screaming, "this thing's killer on the *****!")

I do like him and that’s a fact. I like who he is and his looks are simply an additional thing that can be appreciated. He is kind and I like that. I like the way he walks, and talks, and does everything. His eyes. Holy moly. His eyes. I hate to be cliche and all, but sometimes that’s what the world needs to hear about, those utterly cliche moments. To be completely honest I’ve liked him since the moment I met him; the very moment I saw him. There was something about him that entranced me. I don’t know what that thing was, but it has haunted me. Now we are friends, but something deep down in me has always been drawn to him. I enjoy seeing him…when I do. I wish I could see him more. Truthfully though I denied my gut feeling about him because I thought it was too soon for me to start liking someone. I buried what I felt and I settled for simple friendship, but every time I speak to him or honestly got the chance to look into his beautifully blue eyes (oh that sounds so ooey gooey and girly, but I can’t help it!) I am reminded of that first feeling I got when I met him. I don’t know of a word that describes exactly what I felt, but hopefully someday I’ll come across it or make one. For now I’ll have to compensate by using way too many short and unspecific words that fail terribly. I like him. I even remember the moment when it was cemented into my being (the fact that I liked him). We were talking about words and I told him my new favorite word that I had just figured out existed, psithurism. He shard his with me, sonder. He pulled a youtube video up explaining, in black and white, what sonder is. It’s beautiful. The fact that that it is his favorite word is beautiful. There was something special in that moment and it hit me. I just can’t. I can’t believe I was waiting my whole entire life for that moment. And now it is today and I haven’t done anything about it. About him and me. And I hate that. I hate that I’m not doing anything about it. I want to hear him talk all hours of the day and give him a hug just because I can. I want to curl up next to him on a couch and listen to him tell me how his day was. I want my hand to be the hand he wants to hold when his own has no where to rest. I want the chance to look into those blue eyes every day of my life. I want to know all of his favorite things.

Sermonia (n), that’s the word, at least that’s what the feeling would sound like if I made it a one. Maybe someday I’ll admit to him that it is in fact my most favorite word. Psithurism, is great and all, but it fails in comparison to that feeling you get when you know you’ve met someone special.

Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,

Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.

Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?

Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.

He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens 
Hand, alchemic shaper of water, 
Air, old fires and earth, bending 
Cold elements of moly and lode 
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.

There once was a shadow who thought he was a man,
He made his empty bed in a shame of familiars,
For years if not an eternity he never did one single thing,
He contemplated creativity in all its smoke and mirrors,
His only credo was padding his unknowing, limp ego,
Got a gig, speaking before a throng of other shadows,
He rewrote the crook about his own insignificances, suddenly
Nothing's became every things, all was sorely well in the bleak
Under toes.  Shadowman had found his stage, had rearranged
Chaos and insignificance to the point of no enlightenments,
No regrets.  What a sage!
Shadowman aped, traced, spewed in studied literature,
Experienced, faith, trust, fidelity, danced numbers,
In a cellophane pack with all the added extras included,
Found that reflecting words only got in his narcissistic way,
Left the California sun for the New York lowlands
Of the east, that only shine after the hurricane's
Deluge.  Shadowman has reams of flesh plastered
On a mall of wallowing sites only Shadowmen frequent,
Modern is the moly man who makes his own myth.
Shadowman has traveled to the great southern climes
Where hotels of shade tell tales of locals and enlightenment is in a drug
Called something South American or other?  A drug so smug it is a plug
For his dun holy soul.  Shadowman is only a silhouette of himself.
He freely gives seminars to the lame, chained to themselves freely,
Where all the vain echoes are chambered, embodied, entombed.

He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.

Everybody Loves Raymond

“The Long, Unforgettable Wednesday”

[Setting: Barron’s home]
[The kids and Debra are at the table eating breakfast.]
DEBORA: So Ali, John, did you guys finish your homework for school?
ALI: yea mommy, we finished.
DEBORA: Good.
[Long pause; Debora smiles]
DEBORA: Ok, you kids get your bags ready for school; I’ll go and wake Daddy up.
[Debora comes charging up the stairs.]
DEBORA: Ray, you have to drive the kids to school now.
RAY: It’s my turn already?
[Groans loudly]
RAY: Ok, here are my car keys. Tell them to call if they hit traffic.
DEBORA: Ray, this isn’t funny! I have to go to work now and have two new patients coming in! Get up!
[Debora pulls the quilt off him and opens the blinds]
RAY: [smiles confidently] There’s no way you can get me out of bed Deb.
DEBORA: [seems aggravated with him] Fine then Ray.
[Tries pulling him off the bed when the whole bed collapses.]
RAY: Holy Moly.
[John and Ali walk in petrified]
DEBORA: Hey kids! You have your bags I see.
ALI: Should I be worried?
[Ray quickly jumps out of bed.]
RAY: No, no Ali. Mommy and Daddy were just meditating.
[Debra gives Ray a nasty look]
[End of scene.]
[Ray, Ali and John are in the car heading to their school]
JOHN: What were you and Mommy doing before?
RAY: I told you guys; we were meditating.
ALI: It looked like you were fighting though.
[Ray seems tense]
RAY: Meditating and fighting are very different; therefore, we were originally meditating Ali.  
[Children look baffled]
[Children arrive at school at 9:30 a.m.]
RAY: You know pretty soon; John, Ali, you’ll be able to drive.
[Ray chuckles and the kids smile]
RAY: Love you. Just for future references, don’t go around like me telling the world that people should try meditating; you’ll end up in an environment like me and mommy.
JOHN AND ALI: [Kids laugh] Love you too Daddy.
[Ray arrives home to find his brother and parents in their house and an enormous shopping list to do.]
ROBERT: Ray, what happened to the bed upstairs?
RAY: It wasn’t like you were going to use it anyway Robert.
MARIE: Come Ray, sit down. I made you a roast beef sandwich.
FRANK: I thought that was my ravishing roast beef sandwich!
[Ray walks over to the T.V. and looks at the screen]
RAY: Jets are playing?
FRANK: Oh forget it, we’re done. He’s not going to get the yard goal.
[Makes the kick]
RAY: Yea! Woo!
[Gives Frank a hug and a high five]
FRANK: This calls for a celebration. Marie, go make me a tuna sandwich!
MARIE: What am I, the chef?!
FRANK: That’s why I married you…
[Marie gives Frank a serious look]
FRANK: And because you’re the love of my life ***.
RAY: Oh, God, see you two love birds later; have to go food shopping
MARIE: You didn’t even eat yet!
[Ray smiles and closes the door]
ROBERT: I’m sorry to have spoken, but may I ask kindly if I can have that sandwich?
MARIE: [surprised] what?
ROBERT: What, Rays gone and I just don’t want it to spoil.
MARIE: [Smiles] Good thinking Robbie; I’ll put it in the fridge for him later.
[ROBERT frowns.]
[End of scene.]

.
He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.

.
There once was a shadow who thought he was a man,
He made his empty bed in a shame of familiars,
For years if not an eternity he never did one single thing,
He contemplated creativity in all its smoke and mirrors,
His only credo was padding his unknowing, limp ego,
Got a gig, speaking before a throng of other shadows,
He rewrote the crook about his own insignificances, suddenly
Nothing's became every things, all was sorely well in the bleak
Under toes.  Shadowman had found his stage, had rearranged
Chaos and insignificance to the point of no enlightenments,
No regrets.  What a sage!
Shadowman aped, traced, spewed in studied literature,
Experienced, faith, trust, fidelity, danced numbers,
In a cellophane pack with all the added extras included,
Found that reflecting words only got in his narcissistic way,
Left the California sun for the New York lowlands
Of the east, that only shine after the hurricane's
Deluge.  Shadowman has reams of flesh plastered
On a mall of wallowing sites only Shadowmen frequent,
Modern is the moly man who makes his own myth.
Shadowman has traveled to the great southern climes
Where hotels of shade tell tales of locals and enlightenment is in a drug
Called something South American or other?  A drug so smug it is a plug
For his dun holy soul.  Shadowman is only a silhouette of himself.
He freely gives seminars to the lame, chained to themselves freely,
Where all the vain echoes are chambered, embodied, entombed.

He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.

He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.

Apple tree soft sun rise
Clean air fresh breath a test
Of love too fragile to
Touch. A careening love affair
That, in the end, will
Only seem
Unfair.

Beat drum count sums
Of money made before the flood.
Exit signs waitress binge
Translucent memories of
Forgetful melodies.

Strangers here, strangers there.
Glory moly upstairs we wait
The rain is setting while the moon is rising.
Radio plays soft against these
Moldy window panes. Car honk
Don't stop, perfect this abstract harmony.

Where did we go last night
My faithful hummingbird?
The city streets were alive with fire.
Metro stop bus aloft passing crops
Coins rattle in my pocket like children tattle.
Coffee shop cradle top forgotten luck.

Piercing moons old tunes old friends
Forget where they come from
Where they've been.
Shepard on the hillside, clothed in
Rags, carry high your flag.
The sea is churning for your fury.

Ring the sun the bell reflects the table stands still
River running through all of it
Fishes swimming upstream collecting
No bulletin alive could catch the man
In the worn duster, the undone impostor.

French dialects swirl in my ceramic cup.
Abraham sells me a nickel for a dime.
Flowers line the windowsills of Madame Bovary.
Touching my nose, I she where she goes.
To the toll booth, to the restaurant, to where she was forsook.

Concrete colors of vile and depraved.
His hand brushes through the feathers of a blue jay.
Mistake him not for a savior, a saint, a sacrifice.
Our sins are our own,
Until He takes them away.

Uprooted unattended
No wound this deep
Can be mended.
Most of the moneys gone away,
To where
I cannot say.

Siblings dead of life's misfortune.
No reason to mourn
Somethings thats never happened.
The ships pulling out of port,
But where is our faithful captain?

All Dressed (.)
like a living doll
The poll percentages
Making a living
Do me proud
Mom of ruffles

And her
wrinkles
don't match
her smile dress

The spouse moved
out of his house
When will this be
the decent home?
All  together now
bombarded the movie

Humphrey Bogart
The Bounty
Let's Be Casa Blanca
A kiss is not a
percentage
Like the add-ons
it's decent
Less drama timeshare

Hacienda ruffle
bottoms
sundress
Love to compare
County fair wonder-
At home, windows
Tightly forgiven shut
raining mad
hallelujah

Don't think you
will Ruffle some
R-ob-in Birds
Be decent parent trap
Ruffles so flattering
she knows the best
She is wearing
the fringe peace
hippy vest

All Holy Moly
merchant
What will the
future present?

All fringe benefits
All feathered with
Tight latex things that
don't look decent
to fit

He bought her the most amazing Ruffle designer
long love skirt___with a kiss to the stars*
Adding and calculating
up all the money
You felt all ruffled
by his words
Like a herd of
50 shades
Ratios keep
refreshing
her mouth
Clean mint mento
Looking higher than
her hem-line
The Cosmos pure number
Pure vanilla
extract

All critical
commercials
Business
transaction
I cant get no
satisfaction but I try

((Robin Fly))

The Rolling Stones
  band goes platinum

Why am I aging
Ruffle all the details
Fitting model dress
The news pages
Beneficial let's
be decent
With money__$$$ potential
No big fat zero
The ground Zero

My Twin Towers
Was built
with love
The most
decent
grounds
for families
and heroes
Wormhole or
the black hole
He's definitely inside
the Man-hole
Love and
marriage,
not ready for the
baby carriage

The decent guy in the
tool shed garage
the most grudges

like misery loves
Ruffles  details of ridges
And please when
you love
somebody
Be decent well
mannered

Adding up all the
ruffles on her gown

These life of shadows
Up against the wall
These church bells
Never stop ringing
When did you become
So ******* brave?

Listen to the voice
In your heart.
They were there with you
From the start.
Nothing is too loud.
Nothing is too short.
Pass me the bottle
I don't care
If it's the ******* port

Where did all the money go
Dear Margie Maggie May?
I'm up against the wall this time
And I'm all out of my rhymes
The seams are twitching
The dog is barking too
The knife sharpener is crying
Telling me he's planning
To run me the hell through

It's ok
If I end up alone
There is nothing
But the inevitable
Clicking drone
Of man escaping bone

And though the boughs
Of the ship are splintered,
Tattered and ripped to shreds,
I could see solitude
Being a better route for
The work.

Ah...
The work.

The *******,
Holy moly,
Angels in flight,
God sneezed and let out
A ****

Work.

There is nothing but the accident
Of birth
And the inevitability
Of death.
Everything in the middle
Is a matter of choice
And dealing with the cards
One was dealt.

Everything is the singing
Bell of lady luck upchucking
Her own glory, given to her
By peoples need to believe

The ease of the word
Confounds the sparrow.
What do you need
But something to hope for?
The light
At the end of the tunnel
Bounces in sight
Like a drunken kangaroo.
We drive around like
Mad worms searching for the
Darkest hole with the richest dirt.
A grand home in a walled off
Community where no hell
Could ever get in, even if it tried.

We probably should
have died that day.
The way the wind took
Through the trees like
Albany albacores in the wintery
Sheen of stars.
It didn't matter how many shoes
Were along the rafters.
No thought was where it had
Been lately.
A hug was worth 2 cents
Until I found her.

It's too bad
Nothing ever
Lasts.
Instead of silence
Instead of words
There is just noise and
Distractions.
I can take a beating
Like anybody else
Let the body bleed
A little bit.
Nobody wins
All we're seeking
Is a moment of levity
Before the
Break
Of the Big Wave.

As long as
The Ride
Is the way
You want it -
Let it ride.

Even

Th
e le
av
es

Gr
ow tir
ed

O

f

Falling

If I were to say
about my day
There need only three words
And three words only


Such an outburst of profanity,
but they keep me away from insanity


So if you ask me "How was your day?",
there'd only be three words for me to say;


Holy

    Moly

        Guacamole :D

He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.

Keening Iraqi rpg koranic crumbles heaven’s.  Enkidu kills the god, decapitates forest’s guardian.  Against girl-groping monk Sharvan said truth ******, choot ******, on the Matara Express headed toward Colombo. Egyptian acres scent ***** where Hanuman dropped moly mountain into naga kovil’s backyard.  Caramel tethers artery, never speaks in word-simple.  Father’s thrush to go plucked flensed singer, lashes silken, cuts drafted ghost-voiced achtungtexte in elongated black ink.  Affirming unchecked fluent grit refresh eagle standard, lost legion trollops ******* like Catullus.  Cantering
predicate broidered domine dismissal, does not prevent smatter, and boozed brought fools alongside.  Murderers cremating vulgate rob black willow mosque.  Dappled spent commands a beautiful that is no place.  Squirming myrmidons march honey trail to the western sea.  Disregard lack, loss, and overrule morose placental hayride.  Mint golden sluggish essays.   Snaring nearness generously urinate, anticipate licks of *****.

@ the maximum stage of happiness
      Teeth straight now
      & I have a guy who liked my pic
           This time commented as well
             Send me a message
         Holyyy Moly...
        His love does show  
                       I shown him how to open up
        Now I'm @ maximum   :)

Fourth of July

Its Fourth of July, doesn't matter what year,
Friends  heading over with coolers of beer.
Wife’s in the kitchen makes guacamole,
One look at her you think holy moly

God dang she’s hot; it’s just not fair,
My buddy walks up unfolds a lawn chair.
He sits down, and cracks a beer,
Hands me one, I said glad you're here.

His wife walks up, dessert in hand,
Radios playing, hey what’s that band.
He doesn't know, and it doesn't matter,
I crank it up, the wife hands me a platter.

It’s filled with chicken and shrimp with dill,
I look over charcoal's ready to grill.
Look down at the lake, kids are all swimming,
Splashing and smiling and jumping and grinning.

Washer pit is set up, ready to toss,
More friends arrive; I say what’s up hoss.
I look around, down the cove,
Neighbors getting ready for, a fireworks show.

His wife’s bikini, man it clashes,
Mix match top and bottom, but she's hot as new ashes
We’ll sit out, under the stars,
Oohing and ahhing over flashes and sparks.

When fireworks are over, we'll grab a drink,
Ice Cream and cobbler and try to think.
How this could get any better?
Friends wife walks up, I’m glad I met her.

She says its late, thanks for having them,
But she has a date, with my friend,
And when they get home,
It’s going to be their own, fireworks show.

I’m comin in like a tornado,

Eruptin like a volcano!

Yey kno!

Twistin ya mind like play-dough!

Hey though,

I’m knockin ya out tha park like Jose Conseco!

I see you walkin round here like you’re flossin’,

Actin like u straight bossin’!

In my mind you just lost then!

You’re mind’s just a straight Holocaust when,

You believe your own lies & you’re lost again!

Gangsta life is all pretend!

Really it’s all just one big illusion,

Stemin from greed,hate,delusion!

Drugs enhancing the contusions!

Love n’ Hate become a fusion,

Confusion!

In all reality u steady losin’…

Inside my hearts beatin’ like an earthquake,

Exposin what’s real n’ what’s really fake…

Gangsta rap spreads lies that’s what they really make!

Oh for Christ’s sake,

Dunno how much more I can take!

Roly-Poly,Holy Moly!

Don’t nobody really know me,

Thought True Love overflows me,

Gangsta rap can *******!

If there’s any truth ta rap than show me!

Gangstaz claim REAL recognizes REAL,

And can’t even recognize how they feel…

So what’s the deal?

Coverin emotions like they weapon conceal!

While I reveal!

Heal!

And give the True Love I never thought was REAL!

Heart of a warrior very persistant,

Though u may be resistant…

True Love is our very existence!!!

Even hearing this u may be very distant…

Wipe away your fear and it’ll come an instant!

Hulk Smash!

/// Omni-Slash ///

True Love comes down with a crash!

I’m like a phoenix rising from the ash!

**** the fame, women, and the cash!

Whiplash!

Un-conditional Love is where it’s at!!!

- Ken Manuel aka <3 <3 <3 3ye Kvndy <3 <3 <3

Holy moly I've gone and done it again
sacrificed myself for the good of man
like I can gather up our sorrows and tackle them
off a cliff at the last minute
I can do it, I've got this
I won't let you down
I won't let you down
I WON'T let you down
But I will
As long as you don't know me
Take a closer look at my face
and try to find the muscles that move it
the neurons and blood vessels forming a mask
around my pillar-mind of nothing
I just want to reach out to you
and shake hands with that common chaos
that sparks between us in silence
while we sleep, or in the times
when we're all too excited to shut up

[If you really want to see me, close your eyes]

I just want to be seen as the imaginary friend that I am
You can make me something new
I can make you something too
Alchemy is what you make it
and trust me, we can turn our bodies
into gold, our eyes into black holes
our thoughts into galaxies

The cosmos is behind your eye
but you see yourself differently outside of the mirror

Light warps around our opinions of each other
and we catch our expectations out of the corner
of our eye

Free me, Feel me, **** me, Fear me

I want to do it all
I want to feel alive
So let's pass out on the floor like twin children
Sharing the womb of this house with
our brothers and sisters
This room is what we've turned our mother into
and she shelters us from the cold
for now, until we want to try our luck
on the outside

We'll try to get back here
after we've had enough of the mad
world full of mad mothers and
fierce fathers

Come along for the ride, but know that
I let go of the wheel a long time ago
And now I laugh and spin and flip
and I only wear my seatbelt
when other people are driving the car

Call me a control freak
but truth be told I surrendered to this
car crash truth long ago
when I heard the first murmurs
of metal bending and
sparks hitting the pavement

Is the ship going down
or is heaven at the bottom of the sea-
the coldest womb

The ocean
which birthed the lizard
of our darkest subconscious desires

Let's not go back there too soon
I've only just learned to crawl
on land, I want to walk these streets
and see my breath as I speak
to the people I meet-
The other air breathers
and ******* children of
forgotten mothers-
The representatives
of falling stars
and forgotten gods

It's all here,
so stop trying to run away
from it

It's all here
all the love and hate and laughter
of the world is present in this
odd moment of keys pressed down
like fenceposts, so I can show you
where my borders lie

It's all here

So stop running

The squaw that stroked the camel's sack had finally dun herself in.      
She looked into the eyes of the beast,        
and became powerful frightened of his wicked grin!        
Oh Holy Moly how that one stroke too far had engorged his needed ****....        
She saw her touch had unleashed a devlish urge and swallowed hard with a lump..        
Swollen from lust..        
And in need of a ******...        
He pawed his hooves at the ground..        
Never in her short sqaw life had she heard anything snortin such a hellacious sound!        
Then she saw the enormous size        
of the thing she had rized..        
And the camal hocked a big ol spit..        
The sweet lil thang Cherokee hollered, and her mocassins took her off lickety split..        
He came chargin right behind her, bound and determined, nostrils round n aflared..        
Man! You should have seen that purty lil squaw runnin, by gawd she was ascared!!!