"perjury" poems
103
I have a King, who does not speak—
So—wondering—thro’ the hours meek
I trudge the day away—
Half glad when it is night, and sleep,
If, haply, thro’ a dream, to peep
In parlors, shut by day.
And if I do—when morning comes—
It is as if a hundred drums
Did round my pillow roll,
And shouts fill all my Childish sky,
And Bells keep saying “Victory”
From steeples in my soul!
And if I don’t—the little Bird
Within the Orchard, is not heard,
And I omit to pray
“Father, thy will be done” today
For my will goes the other way,
And it were perjury!
6.6k
We rushed on glorious wings
that fed bombs into Baghdad soil
with feverous lust for a hollow dream.
Now nine long years later,
seventeen bodies lie on earth where oil
engenders a lust that’s even greater.
Seventeen skeletons innocent;
Seventeen bloodlines’ descent.
Karzai’s blank solace and Kandahar’s dead
seventeen lay heavier on the heart than lead.
Three tours were far too many,
the fourth far more than he could take.
A sergeant who’d have given any-
thing for his wife and kids’ sake.
Seeing a good friend’s severe injury –
the last blow Sanity could handle.
Morality goes out – light from a candle
swaddled in smoke’s endless perjury.
Seventeen seconds of forethought
may perhaps have faltered his shot;
Seventeen centuries of ponder
and still the heart may have not grown fonder.
Seventeen lovers left alone,
or loves that’ll never come to pass,
seventeen graves of heavy bones
mark where a madman’s mind broke at last.
Seventeen skeletons innocent;
Seventeen bloodlines’ descent.
Karzai’s blank solace and Kandahar’s dead
seventeen lay heavier on the heart than lead.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 7:49 PM UTC
1768
Lad of Athens, faithful be
To Thyself,
And Mystery—
All the rest is Perjury—
5.7k
474
They put Us far apart—
As separate as Sea
And Her unsown Peninsula—
We signified “These see”—
They took away our Eyes—
They thwarted Us with Guns—
“I see Thee” each responded straight
Through Telegraphic Signs—
With Dungeons—They devised—
But through their thickest skill—
And their opaquest Adamant—
Our Souls saw—just as well—
They summoned Us to die—
With sweet alacrity
We stood upon our stapled feet—
Condemned—but just—to see—
Permission to recant—
Permission to forget—
We turned our backs upon the Sun
For perjury of that—
Not Either—noticed Death—
Of Paradise—aware—
Each other’s Face—was all the Disc
Each other’s setting—saw—
5.5k
My face tells me nothing. Not nothing but nothing useful,
the complications of ageing humorously but not how to avoid
injury.
Permanent injury is a now popular cliché. At this age any injury
could result in pneumonia, pain in bitterness for your peers,
your jury.
What a headache I have! And never forget injury provokes
at best only pity. Friends are merely friendly, they belong to the
majority.
They forget your name and so should you, who are you? Even you
don't know for sure. In relation to community, no change was noted in
the
registry.
Still, man's mercy, economy's ecology, there's some joy in being small,
some joy in staying strong, and keeping death before you without
perjury.
Unsafe to run the wind. A big stick might hit your head. Then
the hip and heart and head will hurt, all three. Un-
fortunately.
I like a strong wind. Dangerous to go out in. As a fire or flood.
I like the way we are at risk, not a risk-averse weasel. A carnivore,
very hungry.
Pay money, take chances. Yo's an elegant contraction of you.
Cool. Message from street to board: mongrels rule. Democracy or
tyranny.
Scared to die? Why? Take appropriate measures, descend through
meditation. Be empty, rest. And to your friends and sons be as
gravity.
Tired of death. It's what it is. Let's play sports, have *** kayak
to the huckleberries, fish for marvelous fish, live a wonderful life, give
generously.
Done blowing, O wild wind? Not yet? So be it. I lay my head
in your felt hands. The motion of the branches, evolutionary branches,
are my
guarantee.
That's all folks, 7:30. The sky is clear, the crows are out. The clouds
are with my mood commensurate. I should shout, having lived
prodigiously.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
I am so smart, I can fool myself
but I am too stupid to figure me out.
What's your problem?
If you don’t stand for something,
You will fall for anything.
Now pick yourself up, get a number and wait for your turn.
I think, therefore I am over qualified.
And that’s why you work here.
No, it’s not ignorance nor arrogance
I’m just smarter than you.
Were you born deficient or are you just stupid today?
Do not believe or even read every word that I have written.
Do not believe everything you think.
Remember you are special, just like everyone else.
Remember to take your smart pills.
I can see you had an extra bowl of stupid for breakfast this morning.
Then stop pretending to be stupid, that’s just dumb.
When you leave home, don't forget where you live and
don't forget your pants, again.
Ask me about my ability to annoy anyone any time.
That’s Mr. ***** (aays - ol - aye) to you, it’s Esperanto.
And yes, it is part of my charm thanks for asking.
Are we having fun yet?
The daydream is the free thinkers nightmare,
what do you think? never mind
Perjury murdered imagination, without an assault rifle,
or second amendment rights, without mass media
or an internet connection. What's your excuse?
I didn’t say it was your fault, I said, I was going to blame you.
So, how does it feel to be back on the hamster wheel?
C’mon man really?
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
**life is a chain of choices and chances
yOu have to make 'EM and take 'EM
if yOu don't STAND for something
yOu'll fall for anything**
**when yOu SET your GOAL
yOu Feed your SOUL**
***life shouldn't be measured by breaths taken
but by the times life takes your breath away***
*put a SmiLe on some ones fACe today
take pride in knowing yOu put it there*
**I THINK therefore I AM over qualified
and that's why yOu work here**
**NO it's not ignorance nor arrogance
I'M just smarter than yOu**
**DO not belieVe or eVen read eVery word that I haVe written
Do NOT believe everything yOu think**
***remember yOu are special, just like everyone else
remember to take your smart pills and STOP pretending
to be STUPID, that's just DUMB***
**that's Mr. AzzHOLE to yOu (ays - oh - lay) it's Esperanto
and YES it is part of my charm, thanks for asking**
***the dAy DreAm is the free thinKer's nighTmaRe
what do yOu thinK? NeVer MiND***
**perjury murdered imagination, without an ASSULT rifle, without
2nd amendment RIGHTS, without maSS media or an iNterNet CoNNectioN**
**it's NOT what yOu accomplish
it's what yOu OVER come**
**I didn't say it was your FAULT
I said I was going to BLAME yOu**
***life is like SkiPPing with a Peg leG
at night it's like Sleeping with SciSSorS***
HAVE FUN
*if you feel offended by this please read again
with your name in each rant, then take two (2) smart pills
and go back to sleep*
hehehe
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 6:16 AM UTC
31 | 31 Poems for August 2017
There’s something exquisite about your smile, your brown eyes have got me hypnotised, and your heart is a gold mine.
I’m addicted to everything you say and do, so be my poet and I’ll be your muse.
We’ll figure out everything else once we’ve found something to do between our sporadic bursts of laughter.
Let me comfort you with soulful conversations accompanied by several bottles of red wine.
We could vibe out and listen to James Blake, and you could tell me about the days when you couldn’t see the colour in anything.
I’m no stranger to the waves of the ocean, so I eventually want to get lost in the depths of you.
You are a picturesque South African city worth exploring even when tourists no longer come to visit.
Their dollars, euros, pounds, nairas and rupees may run dry but my love for you will keep overflowing.
I could write poetry and love letters on your skin but my handwriting is not as beautiful as my words are.
I’ll be your poet in a world that’s still acquainting itself with all the writers of exquisite African literature.
In the Supreme Court of your love, people have told you untruths while under oath – I think the law calls it perjury.
We could vibe out and listen to James Blake, and you could teach me how you see the colour in everything.
I want to get lost in an endless field of sunflowers while basking in the warmth of your presence.
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
"I dream of the day I would see the flowers bloom in Palestine",
says an ally.
"I dream of the day I would see the flowers again",
cries an old lady from Palestine
"I dream of the day I would see Palestine",
prays a refugee in a faraway country
"I dream of the day when I would not dream and pray that there would be another day for Palestine",
screams a little child in Palestine
And the sun is the witness
The sun knows it all,
it has watched, witnessed and waited...
I dream of the day I would see the flowers bloom in Palestine!
From the bullets bored through little children's ribs,
to the bloodied blouses hanging in the clothesline.
I dream of the day I would see flowers again!
From the people's laughters and childish ease,
to the tears and pain I can't even begin to imagine.
I dream of the day I would see Palestine!
From the river, in the desert, the colorful markets,
to the sea, there in the beach, taking our sweet sweet time.
I dream of the day when I would not dream and pray that there would be another day for Palestine!
Because there would only be days of freedom!
Only for the children, for Gaza, mothers, fathers,
doctors, soldiers, every Palestinian!
Days that are theirs!
Days and endless days are all there is!
And it is all theirs!
And the sun is the judge and the jury
The sun grants it,
the justice for every injury, freedom for every perjury…
The moon and the stars commands it,
the promise that Palestine and its people will be free!
Nov 27, 2023
Nov 27, 2023 at 11:43 PM UTC
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride
as he came to escort me inside.
"Come along, these are perilous times,
there is much ugly truth we must hide."
"Herr Goebbels was our school's inspiration.
Joe McCarthy taught here till he died.
Charlie Rangel is among our directors.
Our Grads over nations preside."
"We recruit each years class from young children
who display a disdain for the truth."
"We start with a class on tall stories,
progressing to fibs and untruths."
"By the time they are teens they are ready
to leave little white lies behind."
"They engage in deceit and deception.
These skills help them rob people blind."
"With our Grad course in prevarication
They misdirect and deflect with the great."
"Obama was born in Hawaii,
his foes say he was birthed out of state."
"When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury
I nearly went out of my mind."
"If only he'd paid more attention in Class
and less to some coed's behind."
We had come to a massive rotunda
The Pantheon of all untruth.
Holograms of Stalin and Churchill
told whoppers in an endless loop.
There were quotes from
the World's Great Religions
inscribed on the sides of the wall.
A Left wing devoted to Lenin.
A right wing like a Munich beer hall.
" The sheeple must never be told
that a place like this even exists."
" You can count on me not to inform them."
I said, without moving my lips.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 8:57 AM UTC
Bright lights shine with thoughts forced to conceive
Manipulation of the mind hangs from a titanium thread
For it is what is seen that delivers into the mind
And struggles our thoughts into fictitious wastelands
Politicians smiling with promises promised to keep
Wearing full-body suits made of wealthy propaganda
Lies and perjury residing under the carefully groomed jacket
Wet blades dripping with blood tucked away into the inside pocket
The illusion of the appearance shall enmesh the mind
And continue on to beguile the vapid thoughts
The hearty see leadership while the blind smell autocracy
As the sense of smell is not yet controlled by propaganda
But soon it shall.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 1:55 AM UTC
Oh the duality
There's no neutrality
Only reality
Stored in your mind.
What of this atrophy
Discount integrity
Chase after perjury
Hoarding the lie.
And to this enmity
What is the remedy
From this extremity
Where can I hide?
Notice the brevity
End of the melody
It's your identity
Searching inside.
Find you calamity
Soak in the density
Plundered is empathy
Fronted by pride.
With all intensity
Bring on indemnity
Forfeit amenity
Bow and you die.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
The dust has been lifted
Wise words from the man in the red truck
As he eluded provocative ants dancing ‘round cigarette ash
Pokemon never behaved like jackals
Or any other eighties hair metal bands for that matter
At least Pantera shredded their way out of that shtick
It allowed me to quench my thirst with neon Gatorade
And stomaching peninsulas
This is why starch as a way to mend secular viral videos
Was never a serious consideration
That right belongs to the intergalactic Prince Albert
Of the Ziggy Stardust federation
It’s what made me feel secure with crack and root beer
Can I get a signal out here,
Or did the waffle train miss me by a nano robot?
God save this illustrious choir of cephalopods and naval lint
Before they find their way into the haphazard way
I chop chicken under drunken stars
A wizard once led me to this concussion
But I cannot remember the first door he smashed with a crowbar
I know it had only been six years since Julia Roberts was in Erin Brockovich
The movie about the alien cyborg, who birthed Africanized
Native American bumble bees
Or was that merely a fan fiction continuation?
That’s when the itch in my head stopped….
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
It is a fallacy we all believe.
As we vehemently exclaim six words
to prove the chastity of our thoughts,
to fill our pride with self-validation,
to ratify our existence with falsehoods.
"The Devil made me do it!"
"The Devil made me do it!"
I bitterly laugh at your blundering gaucherie,
as you lay blame on an eons old transgression,
as you smote the sinnerman flying with flames,
as you called him out for your own actions
impassioned by heresy.
Impassioned by heresy
You sought to relieve yourself from perdition;
brought upon by perjury declared,
brought upon by authenticated truths,
brought upon by the duplicity,
of your favored reverent ideologies.
Of your favored reverent ideologies
which is to laud your skirmish against evil
in order to remove yourself from auburn eternity,
in order to induct you as a citizen of argent fields,
in order to orchestrate contempt towards another?
Is there no truth to you?
Is there no truth to you
now that perfidy imputes your entirety?
as you declaim in front of paradise lost,
as you coerce to regain what is rightfully deprived,
as you throng duress by intoning your delusion:
"The Devil made me do it!"
"The Devil made me do it!"
Its recurrence is maddening to Him
while you, in all your sentience, chose to act unbecoming,
while the celestials perched on your shoulder bawl,
while He that you blame does absolutely nothing.
It is a fallacy we all believe.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC
A recipe
I wrote one of those in my head today;
some of it was half-baked,
but what is edible will say:
something about instructions,
something about parts making a whole,
something about convection,
something about mixing in a bowl,
something about dough
and something about kneading
something about confections,
something about breathing.
An epitaph
I wrote one of those in my head today;
some of it was rotten,
what wasn't will rise and say:
something about a journey,
something about fate,
something about love and
something about hate,
something about laying on a gurney
and something about decay,
something about destiny,
something about history,
then it might yawn
and lay back in its grave
A pamphlet
I wrote one of those in my head today;
some parts were mute,
others that weren't will speak and say:
something about tolerance,
something about abuse,
something about inhalants
and something about a noose.
A brochure
I wrote one of those in my head today;
some of it was fake,
but what is real will last and say:
something about a lawyer,
something about curruption,
something about justice
and how it serves a function,
something about admittance,
something about plastic surgery
and breast reduction,
and a catholic priest mumbling
something about perjury.
A eulogy
I wrote one of those in my head today;
some of it was dead,
but what was alive will stand and say:
something about a life
and something about living,
something about a wife
and something about a thing worth giving,
something about a family
and something about foes;
something about winning
and something about woes.
A book
I wrote one of those in my head today;
some of it was filth;
but what was clean will shine and say:
something about character,
something about freedom,
something about development
and something about respect
something about supplement,
something about unity,
something about revolution
and how I think the world should be.
A song
I wrote one of those in my head today;
but it was a bird and it flew away,
If all that's left is just one dying wing
it would flap around
on the ground
and try to sing:
something in near-pefect pitch
something bluesy and
about a *****
then probably something about flight
and finally something about a
bright white light.
A poem
I wrote one of those in my head today;
the lines were seeds
I planted before the cold;
some froze out, some took hold
but what remains grows bold and will say:
something about a heart,
and how you had it from the start;
something about sunlight,
and how you make it seem less bright;
something about the wet wet rain
something about willingness
and something about refrain.
Oct 16, 2011
Oct 16, 2011 at 7:12 AM UTC
You stood in the limelight
before a shaft of blazing luminescence
emitted from the zenith positioned
matrix of all energy
The brightness illuminated your
radiant countenance
as blackness enveloped around your
structures as in a early baroque
by Rembrandt
Your form was made from the finest
materials
But your representatives stood in defiance going beyond
their eroded gardens and
trampled vegetation and beast
underfoot; even defecated plutonium
in my backyard
and belched various gases in my face
Luxury is still your ideology;
all to sure in obtaining
unlimited resources
You are still heavily consuming
the best
still maintaining the frivolous notion
that all is well
never anticipating
that time passes into the future
The shaft of blazing sunlight
has insidiously been replaced
by a blinding interrogation lamp
as darkness licks at your morals
and creeps upon your very being
small cracks are now being discovered upon your once lovely face
No longer can you obtain desirous
riches as readily
as options become minimized,
while playing and bullying a winning serious game of monopoly
against poor countries
Panic is beginning to take hold
as reality overcomes frivolity
You are starting to run,
you have already left one of your golden combat boots
in Vietnam; later pirated black gold
from Mesopotamia
under perjury and severed our nation with the fascistic sword of xenophobia,
and plundered the spirits, at home, and other innocent minorities unjustly
And nationalised yourself from a continent to an island regressing
into itself; homogenized into exceptionalism and the nervous propagandized
gnashing of Caucasian teeth
But doubtless to say
there is no reason
for a prince to save you
because you have gotten too old,
much too corporatised,
too corrupted, too soon, too fast,
YOU MUST SAVE YOURSELF!!
And I know you can
And I know you can
be that lady with that beacon torch of hope...once...again
And whence comes the nourishment of love that flourishes once more...
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 6:58 PM UTC
Proust turned to Hemingway as her feet dangled off the ledge, playing hide and seek with the setting sun
What shall we do tonight?
Wander the streets as vagabonds,
Cursing the bottle as it makes love to the tongue?
Or shall we be a reckless symphony?
Truest tones found only in short breaths,
Tainted with sinless pleasure?
One in the same as smoke curls the lip.
Shall we always be friends as this?
While you smell of *** yes,
Or until I finish this paragraph.
Would you like me to read it to you?
Must you always speak in riddles?
If only to keep the thieves at bay,
For doctors know nothing of riddles.
You are no doctor, my friend,
For though I worship no idol,
Religion binds me to you.
As I am your god, you are my teacher,
For no one understands me quite like you.
Is that not what the alligator said to the turtle?
I think you’ve read the wrong version, my dear.
The alligator safely takes the turtle to shore,
And they grow old together in the humid afternoon sun.
Your mind is filled with the optimism your privileges have allowed;
Whereas the turtle never stood a chance.
Your doubt is lost on me,
But just as Proust has made me ironic,
Words will bring me back to you.
Shall I follow you, then, if you stray?
And ruin the cat’s game before its begun?
I heard the mouse goes blind in the end.
Then lets never find the hole in the decaying wall,
Until youth betrays our mind and perjury is revealed.
Is it truly perjury if we always knew it,
Both halves of the mind working tirelessly to keep it?
To reserve each word for tomorrow,
If only to keep eternity from death?
Must you always speak in riddles?
And he turned back to his book, as her thoughts lit the streetlights one by one.
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 4:50 PM UTC
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride
as he scurried up to escort me inside.
"Come along, these are perilous times,
there is much ugly truth we endeavor to hide."
""We recruit each years class from young children
who display a disdain for the truth."
"We start with a class on tall stories,
progressing to fibs and untruths."
"By the time they are teens they are ready
to leave little white lies behind."
"They engage in deceit and deception.
These skills help them rob people blind."
"With our Graduate course in lying
They misdirect and deflect with the great."
"Politicians here are made, not born,
and must learn to prevaricate."
"When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury
I nearly went out of my mind."
"If only he'd paid more attention in Class
and less to some Coed's behind."
We had come to a massive rotunda
The Pantheon of all untruth.
Holograms of Stalin and Churchill
telling lies in an endless loop.
There were quotes from
the Koran and Bible
inscribed on the sides of the wall.
A Left wing devoted to Lenin.
A right wing like a Munich beer hall.
" The sheeple must never be told
that a place like this even exists."
" You can count on me not to inform them."
I said, barely moving my lips.
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC
A two faced, backstabbing, hunchbacked, hammertoed,
Bedpissing, 77 year old, my child she stole,
Perjury committing, pedofile loving, meat eatting, lazy,
Old, packrat hoarding, slobby, liar.
I wouldn't care if she was on fire.
Troublemaker of scorn.
Rotting rags is always what she's worn.
A pointy edge in my side like a thorn.
Lies under oath she sworn.
From my arms my baby she torn.
Nutty as an acorn.
A devil with horns.
Her death I would'nt mourn.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 11:58 AM UTC
This week at work I received a Homeland Security form with a terse note that I had filled it out incorrectly - in 2003. But I had not filled it out at all; this was new form (already out of date by its own testimony) predicated on a Department of Justice form which I did complete correctly; it had simply expired.
Altho’ I obediently completed the form, I rendered part of the form (page 7 of 9) into not-really-a-poem, in lines of ten syllables:
I Attest That I Am
employment eligibility
verification department of home
land security u.s. citizen
ship and immigration services u
scis form i-9 omb
no. 1615-0047
expires 03/31/2016
start here. Read instructions carefully be
fore completing this form. The instructions
must be available during completion
of this form anti-discrimination
notice: it is illegal to discrim
inate against work-authorized indi
viduals. Employers cannot specify
which document(s) they will accept from an
employee. The refusal to hire an
individual because the docu
ment presented has a future expi
ration date may also constitute il
legal discrimination. Section 1.
Employee information and attest
ation (employees must complete and sign
section 1 of form i-9 no later than
the first day of employment, but not be
fore accepting a job offer). Last
name (family name) First name (given name) mid
dle initial other names used (if any)
address (street number and name) apt.
number city or town state zip code date
of birth (mm/dd/yyyy)
u.s. social security number
e-mail address telephone number I
am aware that federal law provides
for imprisonment and / or fines for false
statements or use of false documents in
connection with the completion of the
form. I attest, under penalty of
perjury, that I am (check one of the
following)…
I Attest That I Am
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 8:57 PM UTC
Love - don't get me started
You might as well quit now
For it's a one-way trip
A banana-skin slip
All the way from perfect pleasure,
A new-found treasure,
To divorce-court perjury.
Open-heart surgery,
From libido to libel
All the hate in the Bible
First you're lost in her eyes
Then you learn to despise
It might take a few years
And take all your tears...
But Love - looking back..
Yes, it was worth it
Happy now?
Christ I deserve it
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC
Still don't know the meaning of love, only tears
lonely years of believing scared just outta fears
of losing whats known to our comfort zone
the only known nightmare being left to die alone
no matter how many times you play the story out
trying to figure what you missed only causes doubt
you don't need to keep going there I swear I keep telling me
no need to compare our life's inequalities
only casualties are left by scars that you cannot see
invisible nightmares leaving evidence so vividly
I do know what very few of us men do
the power of being merely accountable to
I know I said I'm sorry bout a billion times
but I do know that's shadowed by the one and only line
I love you, that's who, *** you have always been my tru
And now you kick and cheat me like you always wanted to
Wash the blood from your hands with a pool of my tears
****** in cold blood committed without fears
Insanity fears no perjury glazed over with a cold stare
A knife in my heart you imparted without even a care
Where did your soul go when ya lost your mind?
In due time come find mine if ya can it's lost with the drugs and wine
Did you imagine it killing me watching me bleed out?
Or was it execution style as to not leave a doubt
I hope you liked it thought it out and put it to plan
It's always so easy to stab the heart of a trusting man
It's always so easy to entrap the **** of a lusting man
In the minds of all women its not if only can
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 12:37 AM UTC
Your sweet breaths and perfumes provoke so,
have I found love in this drift of circumstance?
DO you love me? If so, pray, swear it on the tireless sea,
whose thrashing cold, intemperate waters will last forever.
I swear it freely, on the sea, on breath, and on life itself
- may both be forfit should my vow prove shallow perjury.
As pronounced vows become curses, if they be lies,
truth only ripens, its harvest yielding the sweetest fruit.
Mar 12, 2023
Mar 12, 2023 at 11:44 AM UTC
428
Taking up the fair Ideal,
Just to cast her down
When a fracture—we discover—
Or a splintered Crown—
Makes the Heavens portable—
And the Gods—a lie—
Doubtless—”Adam”—scowled at Eden—
For his perjury!
Cherishing—our pool Ideal—
Till in purer dress—
We behold her—glorified—
Comforts—search—like this—
Till the broken creatures—
We adored—for whole—
Stains—all washed—
Transfigured—mended—
Meet us—with a smile—
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