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Francie Lynch Jun 2015
Lou,
You're an orphan now.
The deciding vote
In your favor,
The good kisses,
The latent reconciliation
Linger in this thick room.
You won't need to clean chimneys,
Work in a blacking factory,
Get your ears pinched, and your **** kicked.

You've laid out a fine plaster effigy
In this cherry box;
Yet Enzo's nature is hidden:
His personal tears
And public laughter
Aren't in this demeanor
With rosary weaved into the basket of his hands.

We've polished our shoes,
So we stand and discuss
The crucifix wedged
To hold up the lid,
And how we follow our fathers' footsteps.
We knew it to end this way
With our fathers' generation.
     But you must know your father lost a father,
     That father lost, lost his...

I too am orphaned, Lou,
And we'll continue on
As orphans do.
Quotation from Hamlet (I, ii, ll 89-90)
Denel Kessler Nov 2015
Each curl of conversation
stills my tongue, half-sentences
stranded in the mire
of biting reason

words silently form
protests, defenses
reasons and intentions

worthless to ears already fed
with the insistent conundrum
accompanying every attempt
at reconciliation.
Sofia Von Jul 2014
So tired yet so awake
I sit at the edge of an ellipsis
crimping the charred innards of my tattered soul
to make a masterpiece of gore
and internal war.
over the years of self loathing
I finally love myself
but getting ****** up feels ****** perfect
and watching this world unfold anew with each hit
or shot
rocks my mind
unkind but exemplary in it's own fortitude
to prevail my own veils
aside they're cast and fumbled with
as thick smiles seed
and the pace is set for the evening
I can't help but think that leaving
could do me good
but who backs out before the last shot?
who leaves before the deafening toll of midnight?
Cinderella's umbrella of security
and purity
is at jeopardy
and with great haste she wastes away the good looks
for late night *****
and nicotine
forgetting to clean
her closet of supreme validity on
the functioning teen
trying not to be mean,
but completely obscene in gestures
with the barbie's manufacturers groping for caspers
in the utopian disasters of the girl they forged
many decades back, but lost track
of the track that played that summer night
in the moonlight of immaculate humor and love
above all the oozing essence that manifested
now tested, for virtual ******
your cerebellum will tellem the positive
credo
that we all know is hooked on the days drift wood with
byzantine benzodiazapines to guide her haunted spirit
till
the cracks turn to crevasses and prehistoric protons mate with electrons
in the vat that is abrewing to plot the lies
watch the skies fade to grey as it may
be about time for the ecliptic rhymes to find
reconciliation
in the bladed grains of mortality and sigh
for being high in this lowered juncture
of subsisting future
buys you time to mull over such a daydream
as your last breath
Liv Jan 2015
Late night calls either make you or break you
There are the ones that are so sweet, so intimate that you never want them to end and they leave you dizzy on happiness and contentment
The others break your heart, tear you to pieces, and leave you needing comfort, reconciliation, and a reason for hope
You never know which one you're going to get when you pick up that phone
Sometimes you may know and you're totally wrong
Sometimes you may know and you're  totally right
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RJ Days Oct 2018
Each sorrow is the child of a happiness
you thought would never end;
Every happiness is a sadness
I may not survive—
a brilliant October day
lying back in dock hammock suspended
quoting bits of Rilke and starlight anthems
the shadows cast by buildings and frogs
ink drawings made on August nights
by our beautiful chain-smoking artistette
admiring a giant spider friend who’d
spun her majestic web and vanished
while we were swimming
backdrop of bay and boys and cherries
creaky boardwalks under bare feet
and stickiest pine and sand darkness
photos over wing clouds below
creepy call to prayer from ancient Mosque
at twilight punctuating strange dreams
perfect reconciliation on hotel balcony
McDonald’s after soaring from Black Sea
to Bosporus Straight, edge of Asia
visible on the horizon and all of life
a nightmare from which I can’t get woke
terrorized by ***** donor bonesaws
homophobic maternal afternoon rejection
peace that passeth no understanding
when you’re a ******* genius or just
a few points lower sorry never enough
compassion leaking through pores
drawn out by steam more darkness
Eucalyptus perfumed
another flaccid experience on a stranger’s
bed recalling Hippocrates on the drive
away after more bad ***
shots of sauces and grilled roasted
poached lentils bespoke chickens finery
malodorous wafts limestone smoothed
by centuries of acidity oily tourist touches
but they’re in Mexico Australia India
we’re back at home twins calling
each day an error of time rounded off
the incorrigible quark refusing
to cooperate with Einstein choosing its
own entangled path and lighting fools
what beautiful skyline
what amazing celebrity capture
what nostalgic group assemblage
what **** cute puppy who’s no more pup
what swanky tailored look
what smiles what smiles what seriousness
the soft and supple features curves lines
practiced looks and wayward hairs
a simple flourishing according to the lens
so much that skin conceals and eyes
beer garden sidewalk orations
wedding after party for April fools
we were who dance grabbing rings
swinging wildly discussing the vulgarities
of gastronomy and digestion
tumbling into diners midnight offices
brick lined streets magical talks
demonstrations and ideas unbounded
carving pumpkins into likable politicians
we think are statesmen and wailing
when she loses winning a trophy case
buckling under weight of moral victory
the thought of skyscrapers lit
shining under heaven unsubtle insinuation
we’re better than all this nonsense
and stronger having raised this glass
and steel by our own hands, our parents
rather now maybe that’s confusion
erecting higher stairwells to escape
encroaching seas and bums below
all memory all happy every laugh
each rumination on the hours
kisses cocktails cuddles laughter
that perfect vest completed outfit
those thrift store jeans that shirt
that secondhand one speed bike
those lunches with the priest
those brunches with the students
those happy hours with the coworkers
those dinners with the beard
all interchangeable parts in show
theater of recollection one subway car
one taxi ride one bus to NY or DC
one flight to Seattle or Vegas
or some Floridian seascape, mansion
each cog or bit like paper currency
imbued with no value but buying
the totality of lived experience
from which to draw upon in sad elsewhere
—but they cut deep, well meaning though
whenever was now isn’t and can is blind
to what day will ever be when I can say
in truth now sadness isn’t.
How memories, even of happy times, can feel smothering when recalled from within the Bell Jar.
Hello and welcome to Glebe Park and there is a lot of excitement happening here to celebrate the first reconsilation day and on the main stage we had the griffin ensemble and the music they played was very calm and relaxing and there are a lot of different activities happening all over Glebe Park
Yes, the indigenous Australians will be happy but the day has only just began and about to come onto the main stage is the great dale Huddleston and he is known to be a rocker country singer and dale’s music is very good the first song is Arnhem Land dreams and the next song is an aborigine and I go walking
And dale has a great voice and has the crowd sitting there being thoroughly entertained
And he sang that with so much pride and the next song was written about a place called black fellas point and around me the crowd are walking and sitting buying food and one old man is tapping his foot, very exciting, yeah dale you know how to sing and you are a classic to play for reconciliation day here in Glebe Park
And the next song was about the simple things in life like when he wrote the song his daughter was being born and that was the happiest day of his life and he really treasured that day and now he is about to sing
Home is where the heart is which to me will mean you go off and have all these adventures but when you go home you feel love and looked after and he sings about water and listening to country music on the radio and many more exciting things but at the end of the day home is where the heart is
Dale Huddleston is now leaving the stage and he really showed us is version of aboriginal culture and he didn’t disappoint anyone in the crowd
The next singer is **** whose music represents aboriginal and Torres straight Islander rights
In this world and I can tell you he is a bit of a rapper but his music does really suit the occasion and now he is singing or rapping out the heavens opening up to create the rain coming down which he tries to get people to understand that we need to focus on being positive despite all the problems they have in the world and music especially his kind of rap does focus on the positive
They are talking about making reconsiliation an every day event not just today because if you did everyone would live in harmony with one another
The next act is the feature act named busby Marou and they are starting to sing loudly but cool as they sit up on the high seat this band is from Queensland and they are here celebrating aboriginal culture
They are showing Queensland’s great oceans and sunshine in their music which is a good thing for this wonderful day
This next song is titled full moon
And this song really explains the meaning of this day like as long as we respect that aborigines were on this land first it will be alright and after that they played a song called blue road which was written back in the early days and it has a great beat as well as a great meaning
So fantastic and if you remember the 90s when they had a song called my island home well busby marou did a version of it and I can tell you they are singing it with so much meaning saying whatever you do you must remember your island home will be waiting for you so just do whet you see fit
And each song explains whether or not you make mistakes and you could try and fix it and you fail But that doesn’t mean much because in life you can have fun
And if you play your cards right
You won’t fail as long as you don’t make anymore mistakes
The music is really moving and great and it has heaps of meaning of this day and then after that they played a classic cindy lauper hit girls just want to have fun which was dedicated to all the girls out there and each of the girls starting clapping, yes a very good version of that song
After that they started to play a song to keep the rain away from Glebe Park and as the played that song the sun pokes itself through the cloud, there is a wind but no rain and they make this rain song sounds cool doesn’t it and then they sang a song called the best part of me is you which has a lot of great meaning to it as well as having a lot of people sitting on the grass of the chairs really enjoying the music and they will finish with a song called paint this land which is their reconsiliation song which is an artists song as you look around people are painting pictures of this land from north to south and east to west great song this is
As we are sitting here enjoying the fun at Glebe Park for reconsiliation day we are going to see some great aboriginal music with the didgeridoo as they have got body paint on them and the music sounds quite nice and pleasant
And as the Chant went on two women came on and with the leaves they swept the land clean and yes, this is ever so great and doesn’t the didgeridoo sound great and I can see other people gathered behind the stage to continue this great music and after that they have some audience participation where they made them do a few arm movements and then they had a laugh saying I feel like chicken tonight like chicken tonight and that is what this day is about having a bit of a laugh and I believe aborigines need to have a day like this because it explains their culture and after that they brought all the kids down to do the kangaroo dance and this got the kids really excited and
Each kid is enjoying being kangaroos and we are up to the last act and it will be interested what interesting dances they will perform today, well the first dance is the paddle dance which has a catchy tune and an interesting tune and as I was waking away from the main stage I was walking over to the middle and busker and former voice star Lucy Sugerman playing a few of her very own songs and she is sounding very good as she has performed at events before but for her to be at the first reconsiliation day was a great opportunity for her
And she is playing her keyboard
Well her music I guess is great music for this day and then she sang a bob Dylan song and she sang it very well, well she has got a great voice
She certainly lets out plenty of meaning in her music and then as I was walking out I heard a blast from the 80s with the song let’s hear it for the boys but two great men singers and they make the song sound like it is really cool and I had a great time watching the reconsiliation day concert and I will definately be back next year
Catch ya
Brujo Alligatore Feb 2016
Studies confirm we're doomed
And it's probably coming soon
Time for everything to recombine
Reunite the earth and the moon
Back before all this crazy ******* started
Like life forms stinking the place up
A world filled without biology
Is a tranquil, zen, runneth-ed over cup!
Bring on the recombobulation
Let the cosmic plow-blade hit this ground
Jesse and girl, please help find him a woman like that
Or just let Rick Springfield play around
Now when Dawn in robe of saffron was hasting from the streams of
Oceanus, to bring light to mortals and immortals, Thetis reached the
ships with the armour that the god had given her. She found her son
fallen about the body of Patroclus and weeping bitterly. Many also
of his followers were weeping round him, but when the goddess came
among them she clasped his hand in her own, saying, “My son, grieve as
we may we must let this man lie, for it is by heaven’s will that he
has fallen; now, therefore, accept from Vulcan this rich and goodly
armour, which no man has ever yet borne upon his shoulders.”
  As she spoke she set the armour before Achilles, and it rang out
bravely as she did so. The Myrmidons were struck with awe, and none
dared look full at it, for they were afraid; but Achilles was roused
to still greater fury, and his eyes gleamed with a fierce light, for
he was glad when he handled the splendid present which the god had
made him. Then, as soon as he had satisfied himself with looking at
it, he said to his mother, “Mother, the god has given me armour,
meet handiwork for an immortal and such as no living could have
fashioned; I will now arm, but I much fear that flies will settle upon
the son of Menoetius and breed worms about his wounds, so that his
body, now he is dead, will be disfigured and the flesh will rot.”
  Silver-footed Thetis answered, “My son, be not disquieted about this
matter. I will find means to protect him from the swarms of noisome
flies that prey on the bodies of men who have been killed in battle.
He may lie for a whole year, and his flesh shall still be as sound
as ever, or even sounder. Call, therefore, the Achaean heroes in
assembly; unsay your anger against Agamemnon; arm at once, and fight
with might and main.”
  As she spoke she put strength and courage into his heart, and she
then dropped ambrosia and red nectar into the wounds of Patroclus,
that his body might suffer no change.
  Then Achilles went out upon the seashore, and with a loud cry called
on the Achaean heroes. On this even those who as yet had stayed always
at the ships, the pilots and helmsmen, and even the stewards who
were about the ships and served out rations, all came to the place
of assembly because Achilles had shown himself after having held aloof
so long from fighting. Two sons of Mars, Ulysses and the son of
Tydeus, came limping, for their wounds still pained them; nevertheless
they came, and took their seats in the front row of the assembly. Last
of all came Agamemnon, king of men, he too wounded, for **** son of
Antenor had struck him with a spear in battle.
  When the Achaeans were got together Achilles rose and said, “Son
of Atreus, surely it would have been better alike for both you and me,
when we two were in such high anger about Briseis, surely it would
have been better, had Diana’s arrow slain her at the ships on the
day when I took her after having sacked Lyrnessus. For so, many an
Achaean the less would have bitten dust before the foe in the days
of my anger. It has been well for Hector and the Trojans, but the
Achaeans will long indeed remember our quarrel. Now, however, let it
be, for it is over. If we have been angry, necessity has schooled
our anger. I put it from me: I dare not nurse it for ever;
therefore, bid the Achaeans arm forthwith that I may go out against
the Trojans, and learn whether they will be in a mind to sleep by
the ships or no. Glad, I ween, will he be to rest his knees who may
fly my spear when I wield it.”
  Thus did he speak, and the Achaeans rejoiced in that he had put away
his anger.
  Then Agamemnon spoke, rising in his place, and not going into the
middle of the assembly. “Danaan heroes,” said he, “servants of Mars,
it is well to listen when a man stands up to speak, and it is not
seemly to interrupt him, or it will go hard even with a practised
speaker. Who can either hear or speak in an uproar? Even the finest
orator will be disconcerted by it. I will expound to the son of
Peleus, and do you other Achaeans heed me and mark me well. Often have
the Achaeans spoken to me of this matter and upbraided me, but it
was not I that did it: Jove, and Fate, and Erinys that walks in
darkness struck me mad when we were assembled on the day that I took
from Achilles the meed that had been awarded to him. What could I
do? All things are in the hand of heaven, and Folly, eldest of
Jove’s daughters, shuts men’s eyes to their destruction. She walks
delicately, not on the solid earth, but hovers over the heads of men
to make them stumble or to ensnare them.
  “Time was when she fooled Jove himself, who they say is greatest
whether of gods or men; for Juno, woman though she was, beguiled him
on the day when Alcmena was to bring forth mighty Hercules in the fair
city of Thebes. He told it out among the gods saying, ‘Hear me all
gods and goddesses, that I may speak even as I am minded; this day
shall an Ilithuia, helper of women who are in labour, bring a man
child into the world who shall be lord over all that dwell about him
who are of my blood and lineage.’ Then said Juno all crafty and full
of guile, ‘You will play false, and will not hold to your word.
Swear me, O Olympian, swear me a great oath, that he who shall this
day fall between the feet of a woman, shall be lord over all that
dwell about him who are of your blood and lineage.’
  “Thus she spoke, and Jove suspected her not, but swore the great
oath, to his much ruing thereafter. For Juno darted down from the high
summit of Olympus, and went in haste to Achaean Argos where she knew
that the noble wife of Sthenelus son of Perseus then was. She being
with child and in her seventh month, Juno brought the child to birth
though there was a month still wanting, but she stayed the offspring
of Alcmena, and kept back the Ilithuiae. Then she went to tell Jove
the son of Saturn, and said, ‘Father Jove, lord of the lightning—I
have a word for your ear. There is a fine child born this day,
Eurystheus, son to Sthenelus the son of Perseus; he is of your
lineage; it is well, therefore, that he should reign over the
Argives.’
  “On this Jove was stung to the very quick, and in his rage he caught
Folly by the hair, and swore a great oath that never should she
again invade starry heaven and Olympus, for she was the bane of all.
Then he whirled her round with a twist of his hand, and flung her down
from heaven so that she fell on to the fields of mortal men; and he
was ever angry with her when he saw his son groaning under the cruel
labours that Eurystheus laid upon him. Even so did I grieve when
mighty Hector was killing the Argives at their ships, and all the time
I kept thinking of Folly who had so baned me. I was blind, and Jove
robbed me of my reason; I will now make atonement, and will add much
treasure by way of amends. Go, therefore, into battle, you and your
people with you. I will give you all that Ulysses offered you
yesterday in your tents: or if it so please you, wait, though you
would fain fight at once, and my squires shall bring the gifts from my
ship, that you may see whether what I give you is enough.”
  And Achilles answered, “Son of Atreus, king of men Agamemnon, you
can give such gifts as you think proper, or you can withhold them:
it is in your own hands. Let us now set battle in array; it is not
well to tarry talking about trifles, for there is a deed which is as
yet to do. Achilles shall again be seen fighting among the foremost,
and laying low the ranks of the Trojans: bear this in mind each one of
you when he is fighting.”
  Then Ulysses said, “Achilles, godlike and brave, send not the
Achaeans thus against Ilius to fight the Trojans fasting, for the
battle will be no brief one, when it is once begun, and heaven has
filled both sides with fury; bid them first take food both bread and
wine by the ships, for in this there is strength and stay. No man
can do battle the livelong day to the going down of the sun if he is
without food; however much he may want to fight his strength will fail
him before he knows it; hunger and thirst will find him out, and his
limbs will grow weary under him. But a man can fight all day if he
is full fed with meat and wine; his heart beats high, and his strength
will stay till he has routed all his foes; therefore, send the
people away and bid them prepare their meal; King Agamemnon will bring
out the gifts in presence of the assembly, that all may see them and
you may be satisfied. Moreover let him swear an oath before the
Argives that he has never gone up into the couch of Briseis, nor
been with her after the manner of men and women; and do you, too, show
yourself of a gracious mind; let Agamemnon entertain you in his
tents with a feast of reconciliation, that so you may have had your
dues in full. As for you, son of Atreus, treat people more righteously
in future; it is no disgrace even to a king that he should make amends
if he was wrong in the first instance.”
  And King Agamemnon answered, “Son of Laertes, your words please me
well, for throughout you have spoken wisely. I will swear as you would
have me do; I do so of my own free will, neither shall I take the name
of heaven in vain. Let, then, Achilles wait, though he would fain
fight at once, and do you others wait also, till the gifts come from
my tent and we ratify the oath with sacrifice. Thus, then, do I charge
you: take some noble young Achaeans with you, and bring from my
tents the gifts that I promised yesterday to Achilles, and bring the
women also; furthermore let Talthybius find me a boar from those
that are with the host, and make it ready for sacrifice to Jove and to
the sun.”
  Then said Achilles, “Son of Atreus, king of men Agamemnon, see to
these matters at some other season, when there is breathing time and
when I am calmer. Would you have men eat while the bodies of those
whom Hector son of Priam slew are still lying mangled upon the
plain? Let the sons of the Achaeans, say I, fight fasting and
without food, till we have avenged them; afterwards at the going
down of the sun let them eat their fill. As for me, Patroclus is lying
dead in my tent, all hacked and hewn, with his feet to the door, and
his comrades are mourning round him. Therefore I can take thought of
nothing save only slaughter and blood and the rattle in the throat
of the dying.”
  Ulysses answered, “Achilles, son of Peleus, mightiest of all the
Achaeans, in battle you are better than I, and that more than a
little, but in counsel I am much before you, for I am older and of
greater knowledge. Therefore be patient under my words. Fighting is
a thing of which men soon surfeit, and when Jove, who is wars steward,
weighs the upshot, it may well prove that the straw which our
sickles have reaped is far heavier than the grain. It may not be
that the Achaeans should mourn the dead with their bellies; day by day
men fall thick and threefold continually; when should we have
respite from our sorrow? Let us mourn our dead for a day and bury them
out of sight and mind, but let those of us who are left eat and
drink that we may arm and fight our foes more fiercely. In that hour
let no man hold back, waiting for a second summons; such summons shall
bode ill for him who is found lagging behind at our ships; let us
rather sally as one man and loose the fury of war upon the Trojans.”
  When he had thus spoken he took with him the sons of Nestor, with
Meges son of Phyleus, Thoas, Meriones, Lycomedes son of Creontes,
and Melanippus, and went to the tent of Agamemnon son of Atreus. The
word was not sooner said than the deed was done: they brought out
the seven tripods which Agamemnon had promised, with the twenty
metal cauldrons and the twelve horses; they also brought the women
skilled in useful arts, seven in number, with Briseis, which made
eight. Ulysses weighed out the ten talents of gold and then led the
way back, while the young Achaeans brought the rest of the gifts,
and laid them in the middle of the assembly.
  Agamemnon then rose, and Talthybius whose voice was like that of a
god came to him with the boar. The son of Atreus drew the knife
which he wore by the scabbard of his mighty sword, and began by
cutting off some bristles from the boar, lifting up his hands in
prayer as he did so. The other Achaeans sat where they were all silent
and orderly to hear the king, and Agamemnon looked into the vault of
heaven and prayed saying, “I call Jove the first and mightiest of
all gods to witness, I call also Earth and Sun and the Erinyes who
dwell below and take vengeance on him who shall swear falsely, that
I have laid no hand upon the girl Briseis, neither to take her to my
bed nor otherwise, but that she has remained in my tents inviolate. If
I swear falsely may heaven visit me with all the penalties which it
metes out to those who perjure themselves.”
  He cut the boar’s throat as he spoke, whereon Talthybius whirled
it round his head, and flung it into the wide sea to feed the
fishes. Then Achilles also rose and said to the Argives, “Father Jove,
of a truth you blind men’s eyes and bane them. The son of Atreus had
not else stirred me to so fierce an anger, nor so stubbornly taken
Briseis from me against my will. Surely Jove must have counselled
the destruction of many an Argive. Go, now, and take your food that we
may begin fighting.”
  On this he broke up the assembly, and every man went back to his own
ship. The Myrmidons attended to the presents and took them away to the
ship of Achilles. They placed them in his tents, while the
stable-men drove the horses in among the others.
  Briseis, fair as Venus, when she saw the mangled body of
Patroclus, flung herself upon it and cried aloud, tearing her
breast, her neck, and her lovely face with both her hands. Beautiful
as a goddess she wept and said, “Patroclus, dearest friend, when I
went hence I left you living; I return, O prince, to find you dead;
thus do fresh sorrows multiply upon me one after the other. I saw
him to whom my father and mother married me, cut down before our city,
and my three own dear brothers perished with him on the self-same day;
but you, Patroclus, even when Achilles slew my husband and sacked
the city of noble Mynes, told me that I was not to weep, for you
said you would make Achilles marry me, and take me back with him to
Phthia, we should have a wedding feast among the Myrmidons. You were
always kind to me and I shall never cease to grieve for you.”
  She wept as she spoke, and the women joined in her lament-making
as though their tears were for Patroclus, but in truth each was
weeping for her own sorrows. The elders of the Achaeans gathered round
Achilles and prayed him to take food, but he groaned and would not
do so. “I pray you,” said he, “if any comrade will hear me, bid me
neither eat nor drink, for I am in great heaviness, and will stay
fasting even to the going down of the sun.”
  On this he sent the other princes away, save only the two sons of
Atreus and Ulysses, Nestor, Idomeneus, and the knight Phoenix, who
stayed behind and tried to comfort him in the bitterness of his
sorrow: but he would not be comforted till he should have flung
himself into the jaws of battle, and he fetched sigh on sigh, thinking
ever of Patroclus. Then he said-
  “Hapless and dearest comrade, you it was who would get a good dinner
ready for me at once and without delay when the Achaeans were
hasting to fight the Trojans; now, therefore, though I have meat and
drink in my tents, yet will I fast for sorrow. Grief greater than this
I could not know, not even though I were to hear of the death of my
father, who is now in Phthia weeping for the loss of me his son, who
am here fighting the Trojans in a strange land for the accursed sake
of Helen, nor yet though I should hear that my son is no more—he
who is being brought up in Scyros—if indeed Neoptolemus is still
living. Till now I made sure that I alone was to fall here at Troy
away from Argos, while you were to return to Phthia, bring back my son
with you in your own ship, and show him all my property, my
bondsmen, and the greatness of my house—for Peleus must surely be
either dead, or
Being invokes Form.
Form invokes Matter.
Matter invokes Mind.
Mind invokes Motion.

Motion evokes Hallucination.
Hallucination evokes Provocation.
Provocation evokes Dis-ease.
Dis-ease evokes Reconciliation.

Conciliation banishes Dis-ease.
Ease banishes Provocation.
Discernment banishes Hallucination.
Rest banishes Motion.

Stillness dispels Thought.
Concentration dispels Matter.
Formlessness dispels Phenomena.
Being alone Is.
WS Warner Feb 2012
Underneath the anger, there are tears. Beneath the fury, there is hurt, a river
of affliction - the day that possibility evaporated. I knew, the moment
it was gone. Telos obscured, like a mist, had left me.

Frost in February, morning at the local coffee house, perseverating, sedate
in privatized, cogitations - certainty dissolves into irony, the transient
collective with predictable cadence and singular objective. Borrowed
energies - preferred anesthetic in defiance of the placid, quotidian horror.

Angst wrapped in skin, clothed in remorse, like a muslin coat unable
to keep me warm, the palette of truculence, dislocated savant,
with guarded aversion - faces enucleating in tacit harmony, the muted tragedy
of the forgotten.

Yoked, the metaphorical satchel, freighted with the sentient debris, sifting
the fuckage, memoirs of failure, privation of venture and honor, objectified as
mere portent. [Existence] - the daily riot, becomes the necessary crucible.

Dissonance and detachment resonate the cultural banality, [being] displaced
by icon; [branding], ideas about ideas, life several times removed,
emblem over essence.

Existential renegade, exploiting the counter intuitive, the paradigmatic prodigal,
favor squandered, in the absonant passage, bearing fruit of the undone.

Bones of contention lament, interminably, like a false friend, present in absence,
perceived in the lack, subtraction, slip-stream - the disheveled
palaver of the broken.

Acutely self referential, misery enfleshed, its own reward, a post-war
discontent inhabiting sorrow, compressed and narrow, begetting
apathy in springtime.

Commodity of youth, the currency of beauty -permuted, commerce of the
ethereal and diaphanous. Human caprice, post-modern fog,
the flattened self,
the enemy of us is us, drowning in the decorum of narcissism.
the fattened calf,
immolating on the sword of autonomy.

Recycled grief, a recursive loop of gestating thoughts, marinating fluidly
within the interpretive grid. Confessional cyber community - exposed wounds
and concrete suffering, abstracted from virtual solidarity, refracted through a
reductive sentimentality, maybe they will ‘like’ it.

Iconoclast in exile, inhaling the incense of barrenness , surrounded by synoptic
drivel in understated - present tenses - alight in the now, axial axioms of the privileged,
who genuflect to the god of unfettered freedom.

Peripatetic intervals of isolation, self-imposed, hidden in a sanctuary of derision,
colliding with immutable otherness , the waters of chaos, calm.
The proleptic display, announcing eschatology. An ancient text written on the interior
expressed in myth and narrative the courier. The carnal and cerebral
arise, rightly flourishing.

Sense thresholds stirring, surprise and turbulence, reverberations of altered
domains merging - the temporal and ubiquity, the indissolubly resplendent
inversion - the invisible made visible. Opaque intrigues subsumed into the
balm of reconciliation - the first shall be last…

©2012 W.S. Warner
Sean M O'Kane Sep 2018
Auntie Em is calling….

I was just getting to love my Emerald City
The shiny feel of it, its sweetly diverse demi-monde.
Its shimmering green beauty and tranquil sense of safety.
The heels of my ruby red slippers were well & truly dug in.
But no, the state fair balloon stands before me ******* & ready to go.
A grand exclamation mark in my way if ever there was one.
And Toto for once has gone mute, no chance of a last minute hold up.

"Dorothy, Dorothy, where are you?"

I guess it must have been too fantastical a dream to be true.
A time for goodbyes.
I’m embracing the Lion telling him to always be proud of himself & not to walk unafraid.
The Tin Man’s gentle open heartedness I compliment him on as we both shed tears.
The Scarecrow I kiss and thank for his loyalty & grace under fiery pressure.
With a heavy heart, I climb that first tentative step on the block.  

"We’re sick with worry over you"

I could be angry but the wise words of the mystic ring loudly in my year.
I do need to go back – My Auntie Em is really calling me.
Calling me back to the grey flatlands of home.
Back to the numbness of small town heteronormativity.
Where Twisters rarely every came by to sweep you away and save you.
I could only keep singing ‘Over The Rainbow’ in vain hope.

"Find yourself a place where you won't get into any trouble!

Unlike Dorothy Gale, this Dorothy left Kansas voluntarily
The long yellow brick road finally took me under the rainbow and on to my Emerald City
I no longer pined for home but knew all along that it would call me back one day.
And so here I am, drifting higher & higher away from my adopted home.
Perhaps I need to build a revolving door when I get there to pass through both worlds easily
Or perhaps bring something of the rainbow back to illuminate the grey-lands.
Or perhaps – in reality -  some reconciliation between these worlds is in order.
Perhaps.
It’s time to slip on the ruby red slippers and prepare the way for Kansas.
Yes, this Dorothy has surrendered but
I always had the power to be me, my dear.
I just had to learn it for myself.

August –September 2018
This poem was written in response to my feelings about some tragic news I received last month & how I was dealing with it. Initially, it was quite deep & bitter in the way it wallowed over the world I thought I was losing because of my duty to family. My home town is a stifling throwback to bad old neanderthal homophobia and has nary a sniff of transcendental beauty unlike my adopted home.

However, I thought long & hard and realised that because I now stand tall as a proud bi/pan/queer person I should take what I have gained and use it to guide me. Plus my anger was wrongly placed - not at the family member for taking me away from my Emerald City but cancer itself for throwing chaos into our lives.
Written by Serge Kahili King

There is a famous *Zen koan
(philosophical riddle) which asks,

"What is the sound of one hand clapping?"

The student of Zen is supposed to meditate on this riddle until some degree of insight or enlightenment occurs. *The tricky part is
that there is no right answer. What you are, or what you know, or what you believe, is what you get.

Although no longer an active student of Zen, I was recently meditating of the riddle of one hand clapping when I got an answer that might be useful to share:

The sound of one hand clapping is the same as the sound of two hands clapping.

How could that be, you ask (for the sake of this article
I am assuming that you do ask)? It's simple, I reply.
The concept of clapping implies that a sound is being produced by two surfaces coming into contact, even if only one of them is actually moving.
No sound, no clapping; no second surface, no sound. Yet, the riddle definitely states that there is a sound and that there is clapping.

Therefore, my answer follows logically.

Yes, I know, the answer to a koan is supposed to be beyond logic, but rest assured that the answer came intuitively. The logic came after.

Before you dismiss this as simply a bit of cleverness or a waste of time, let me tell you about the rest of the meditation. After the revelation that the sound of one hand clapping must be the same as the sound of two hands clapping, it struck me that this was a nice metaphor for two of the corollaries of the Second Principle of Huna.

The basic principle states that there are no limits, which implies that everything is in a relationship to everything else. And that implies that if you change one side of a relationship you change both sides.Even if only one hand changes its position relative to another, unmoving hand , a clapping sound will be produced.

We don't have to wait for both sides of a relationship to participate before bringing about beneficial change.
Change one side of that relationship and the other side has to change because the relationship has changed.

We use this idea a lot in teaching Huna.
For instance, in third-level healing work where we assume that

everything is a dream and everything is dreaming, we say that
~ if you change one dream you automatically change all related dreams.

So you can go to an imaginary garden and make changes to symbols of your life experience, and your life experience will change.

In second-level healing work where we assume that
everything is telepathically linked, we say that
~ if you begin to silently bless and forgive people with whom you are having difficulties, they will know it and they will begin to change their behavior toward you without a word being spoken.

And in first level healing, where
we assume that everything is separate but potentially interactive,
we teach that
~ if you smile and hug a lot you will tend to get a lot more smiles and hugs back, even from people who don't normally smile or hug.

Now what do you think would happen if you applied this idea to the whole of your life?

In a strained personal relationship, for example, instead of waiting for the other person to make the first move toward reconciliation you could start the process in your own mind, either by purposely creating a better opinion of the other person, or by imagining the two of you getting along with all of your differences.  Sorry, you can't control with your imagination what the other person thinks or does (it simply doesn't work), but you can use imagined persuasion just as you might in a face to face meeting. As in any form of persuasion, however, the more your persuasion is based on a benefit to the other person, the more successful it is likely to be.

In a strained global relationship, assuming our theory is valid
(which means workable). We might be able to get together even in a smallish group and and rethink ((or redream)) our relationship with one or both countries involved. Theoretically, of course, it ought to take only one person to make a change. On the other hand, the change of one person's relationship to a country might only produce a very small change, so the more people the better. The thing to remember, in this context, is that you are trying to change how you think or feel about the country, not trying to change the country. It's a subtle but important difference, and it applies to people as well as countries.

If this idea catches on we can introduce  "a Huna koan" ((the actual Hawaiian phrase is "nane huna," a hidden riddle or conundrum))

*"What is the sound of one person loving?"
Notes hand~written by
Impeccable Space
Poetic Śūnyatā
Ahmed Saheb Sep 2015
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Some people say and will say, let us unite and heal. Unite round what exactly? Fascism??  This is at best a pipe dream and in reality a nightmare for billions of people everywhere on the planet. There can be and there should be no unity with fascists and a program of global violence and destruction (already under way for several centuries now)..  An historical reference: People who say this are actually saying "be good Germans" do not protest or resist the death camps and slaughter of Jews and others. Their cry: "Uber Germany - Uber Alles" - "God, Fatherland, and Motherhood".  In our case 2016, it is non whites, Black, Muslims, Mexicans, GLTQ people, women and abortion rights, and the environment that will be the targets of this "resurrent America"... and why would anyone want to "unite " with this?? In the name of humanity, I will not unite, collaborate, conciliate, nor capitulate to a fascist America.

In this light I offer a statement / message that is being distributed throughout this country and where ever people are protesting and resisting, including to people in other countries who are looking to us to see what we will do. Here is the link:  

http://www.revcom.us/a/464/in-the-name-of-humanity-we-refuse-to-accept-a-fascist-america-en.­html

While I encourage everyone to read  by following the link, I am also going to post the message below.

In the Name of Humanity,
We REFUSE To Accept a Fascist America
Rise Up... Get Into The Streets... Unite With People Everywhere
to Build Up Resistance in Every Way You Can
Don’t Stop: Don’t Conciliate... Don’t Accommodate... Don’t Collaborate

 
Donald Trump has now won the presidency. Under the slogan “Make America Great Again,” he has viciously attacked Mexicans and Muslims, threatened to deport millions and boasted that he will build walls and close borders. He incites people to fear and hate those who are “different,” or who come from other countries or nationalities, or practice different religions. He crudely demeans and degrades women, and openly boasts about molesting them. He’s a champion of white supremacy who has insulted and threatened Black people, and whipped up a racist lynch-mob mentality. Trump has mocked the disabled.  He is an aggressive and unapologetic militarist, who threatens to use nuclear weapons and will have his fingers on the nuclear codes. He openly advocates war crimes and crimes against humanity"including torture and killing the families of people accused of terrorism. He plans to pack the Supreme Court with justices who will gut and reverse the right to abortion, gay rights, and other important legal rights. He calls climate change a hoax and his policies will wreak further devastation on the environment. He has attacked and threatened the press and stirred up his supporters to do the same. Trump has utter contempt for facts and the truth, and consistently lies to advance his agenda. As for the rule of law, Trump went so far as to openly threaten his opponent, Hillary Clinton, not only with jail, but even assassination. Donald Trump is an outright fascist. And he is now the president-elect.

Fascism is a very serious thing. Fascism foments and relies on xenophobic nationalism, racism, and the aggressive reinstitution of oppressive “traditional values.” Fascism feeds on and encourages the threat and use of violence to build a movement and come to power. Fascism, once in power, essentially eliminates traditional democratic rights. Fascism attacks, jails, and executes its opponents, and launches violent mob attacks on “minorities.” In **** Germany in the 1930s and ’40s, under ******, fascism did all these things. They imprisoned millions in concentration camps and exterminated millions of Jews, Roma people (Gypsies), and other “undesirables.” And ****** did almost all of this through the established institutions and the “rule of law.” This is where this goes. And yes, ****** himself could “talk graciously” when he felt it would serve his interests and lull his opponents.

Trump did not even win the popular vote, (even though he did win the “electoral college” which decides elections in the U.S.). ****** himself came to power through democratic procedures, including through the process of elections. Should people have accepted ******?! Unfortunately, they did, at a horrific cost to humanity. Today, with nuclear weapons, that cost could be far higher.  

In the name of humanity, we must refuse to accept a fascist America!
The fact that Trump won as many votes as he did must be understood. The fact that he got more than even 10 percent of the vote is disgraceful and reveals some very ugly things about America. So why did this happen? The world today is turbulent, full of changes. Those who supported Trump’s fascist program were overwhelmingly sections of white people, especially but not only white men, who yearn for the days of open white supremacy and American global *******, and the blatant subjugation of women. A significant minority of white people did oppose him, but we have to confront how deep the racism, the national chauvinism, and the hatred of women is woven into this society... and not give in to this, but vigorously challenge and fiercely oppose it. 

But even more than this, Trump was backed by powerful forces in this society. Beyond those who directly supported him, the media, the Democratic Party, and others treated him as a legitimate candidate, refused to call him out as the fascist he is, and now call on everyone to accept his ascension to power. All the major powerful forces in this society bear the responsibility"it is they who have, over decades, either built up this fascist force or have “enabled” it.

You cannot try to “wait things out” with fascists. Those who lived through ******’s Germany and sat on the sidelines, looking on as ****** rounded up one group after another, became shameful collaborators with monstrous crimes against humanity. Trump and his regime must be resisted and defied, beginning now, in many different ways and in every corner of society. 

Reconciliation and collaboration would be nothing less than criminal and deadly. Literally. Come together... resist... and let the whole world know that we will not allow this to stand!
                                          **revcom.us
it is a wonderful sight here in NYC to see so many youth and others out protesting, marching and opposing a fascist America....
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2015
weary of mothers and friends
losing their children,
before their time,
weary of failing
to achieve reconciliation
with whatever one nominates
the force that regulates,
fate, Name-Your-God,
deity of your choice,
nature, laws of physics,
the "whatever"
that controls, interferes,
that you think to believe
wills these event's occurrence
non-randomly

cessation of formalities,
one sided truce
signed and delivered,
unafraid to call this
what it is,
**** and damning fate,
for no god
could be so cruel...

If only there was a
Dislike button
for life and the poems
wrenched from death

at 5:00 am
this thought is my
sole inhabitant

once again,
nature's bosses distort,
another friend's grief
asks, cajoles me
to betray my/thy belief

banish it or me,
for we both cannot be
cohabitants
under the one roof,
of this limited mind,
where flailing
poems
never good enough,
failing
to express my
sorrowed rage
also see part one, so to speak

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1052415/a-personal-god-wailing-and-complaining/
~~~~~~~~~~
meet me
where the broad teary rivers
both empty and fill the oceans,
takers and givers,
swapping sorrowful fluids constant,
these loyal thieves,
from the sky, robbing a soul's moisture
selling what isn't hisn't
back to the soil

for this is the human condition,
the foaming eddys where
life becomes words becomes life,
infintum
~~~~~~~
Robert C Howard Oct 2018
Above the caldera at Yellowstone,
a brittle soil-rock crust
caps a lake of liquid fire
with only fumaroles and roiling geysers
to stay its upward ******.

One errant step is all it takes
to breach that mantle's fragile seal -
spelling death by fire
to any hapless wanderer
who fails to guard his path.

Fragile calderas also roil
buried in darkest hollows of our psyches -
brewed of failures, slights and fears
dissolved in molten pools
of self-consuming misery.

To dress and salve our wounds
we sow gardens of reconciliation within
with beauty, trust and reason
and bow to gods of grace and solace.

But a despot’s studied eye
knows just how to tap our fragile crusts,
releasing acrid lava flows
from pools where fear and rage reign hot
and reason has no district.

Sisters and brothers of our flesh I pray
we find a holy and transforming alchemy
to convert our heat to light
and shield our sacred calderas
from enemies that stalk us from within.

July, 2006, revised December, 2014, 2015 and 2018
Robert Charles Howard
I decided to repost this poem because after scores of revisions over the years every stanza is substantially different than it was when I first wrote it in 2006.  Hopefully after 12 years, I've got it figured out.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Birdsong
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Birdsong relieves
my deepest griefs:
now I'm just as ecstatic as they,
but with nothing to say!
Please universe,
rehearse
your poetry
through me!

Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī (1207–1273) was a 13th-century Persian poet, faqih, Islamic scholar, theologian and Sufi mystic. Rumi's influence transcends national borders and ethnic divisions. He is held in high regard by Iranians, Tajiks, Turks, Greeks, Pashtuns, and in the West and around the world. Rumi has been called the "most popular poet" and the "best selling poet" in the United States. Keywords/Tags: Rumi, translation, birdsong, bird, song, grief, ecstasy, joy, happiness, universe, poetry, birds, songs, singing, songbirds



The Field
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Far beyond sermons of right and wrong there's a sunlit field.
I'll meet you there.
When the soul lazes in such lush grass
the world is too full for discussion.



Beyond
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Don’t demand union:
there’s a closer closeness, beyond.
The instant love descends to rest in me,
many beings become One.
In a single grain of wheat ten thousand sheaves germinate.
Within the needle’s eye innumerable stars radiate.



Untitled Rumi Epigrams

Raise your words, not their volume.
Rain grows flowers, not thunder.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your heart’s candle is ready to be kindled.
Your soul’s void is ready to be filled.
You can feel it, can’t you?
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is love: to fly toward a mysterious sky,
to cause ten thousand veils to fall.
First, to stop clinging to life,
then to step out without feet...
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I am not this hair,
nor this thin sheathe of skin;
I am the Soul that abides within.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Let yourself be guided by the strange magnetism of what you really love:
It will not lead you astray.
The lion is most majestic when stalking prey.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Forget security!
Live by the perilous sea.
Destroy your reputation, however glorious.
Become notorious.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Two Insomnias (I)
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When I’m with you, we’re up all night;
when we're apart, I’m unable to sleep.
Thank God for both insomnias
and their inspiration.



Two Insomnias (II)
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When I’m with you, we’re up all night.
When we part, I’m unable to sleep.
I’m grateful for both insomnias
and the difference maker.



I choose to love you in silence
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I choose to love you in silence
where there is no rejection;

to possess you in loneliness
where you are mine alone;

to adore you from a distance
which diminishes pain;

to kiss you in the wind
stealthier than my lips;

to embrace you in my dreams
where you are limitless ...



I Prefer
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I prefer to love you in silence,
for in silence there is no rejection.

I prefer to possess you in loneliness,
for in loneliness you are mine alone.

I prefer to adore you from a distance,
because distance diminishes pain.

I prefer to kiss you in the wind,
because the wind is subtler than my lips.

I prefer to embrace you in my dreams,
because in my dreams you are limitless.



Untitled Rumi Epigrams

I am not this hair,
nor this thin sheathe of skin;
I am the Soul that abides within.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We come whirling from nothingness, scattering stardust.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why should I brood, with every petal of my being blossoming?—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why should I brood when every petal of my being is blossoming?—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Elevate your words, not their volume. Rain grows flowers, not thunder.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bare rock is barren. Be compost, so wildflowers spring up everywhere.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I want to sing as the birds sing, heedless of who hears or heckles.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your heart’s candle is ready to be kindled.
Your soul’s void is waiting to be filled.
You can feel it, can’t you?
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your heart’s an immense ocean. Go discover yourself in its depths.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The only prevailing beauty is the heart’s.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is love: to fly toward a mysterious sky,
to cause ten thousand veils to fall.
First, to stop clinging to life,
then to step out, without feet ...
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

What you seek also pursues you.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Love renders reason senseless.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Love is the bridge between your Heart and Infinity.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your task is not to build love, but to bring down all the barriers you built against it.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Let yourself be guided by the strange magnetism of what you truly love:
It will not lead you astray.
The lion is most majestic when stalking prey.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The moon shines most bright
when it embraces the night.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The moon shines brightest
when the night is darkest.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The moon is brightest when it embraces the night.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
If your heart is light, it will light your way home.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Are you still in the dark that your light lights the worlds?—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why do you remain prisoner when the door's ajar?—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why do you remain prisoner when the door's wide open?—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As you begin to follow the Way, the Way appears.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, come, fellow traveler. Wanderer, worshiper, itinerant: it makes no difference. Ours is no caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken ten thousand vows. Come yet again, come, come.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Forget security!
Live by the perilous sea.
Destroy your reputation, however glorious.
Become notorious.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Don’t be satisfied with stories of others’ accomplishments. Create your own legend.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I was so drunk my lips got lost requesting a kiss.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Eyes identify love. Feet pursue.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Everything beautiful was made for the beholder.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The essence of the rose abides not in the perfume but the thorns.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ignite yourself, then seek those able to fan your flames.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
When will you begin the long trek toward reconciliation with yourself?—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There is eloquence in silence. Stop weaving and the pattern is perfected.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The universe lies within you, not without. Look within: everything you desire, you already are.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You must understand
“one” and “two”
because one and one make two.
But you
must also understand
“and.”
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



The imbecile constructs cages for everyone he knows,
while the sage
(who has to duck his head whenever the moon glows)
keeps dispensing keys all night long
to the beautiful, rowdy, prison gang.
—Hafiz loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

An unbending tree
breaks easily.
—Lao Tzu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Little sparks ignite great flames.—Dante, translation by Michael R. Burch

Once fanaticism has gangrened brains
the incurable malady invariably remains.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Booksellers laud authors for novel editions
as pimps praise their ****** for exotic positions.
—Thomas Campion, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

No wind is favorable to the man who lacks direction.
—Seneca the Younger, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Hypocrisy may deceive the most perceptive adult, but the dullest child recognizes and is revolted by it, however ingeniously disguised.
—Leo Tolstoy translation by Michael R. Burch

Just as I select a ship when it's time to travel,
or a house when it's time to change residences,
even so I will choose when it's time to depart from life.
—Seneca, speaking about the right to euthanasia in the first century AD, translation by Michael R. Burch

Improve yourself through others' writings, attaining freely what they purchased at great expense.—Socrates, translation by Michael R. Burch

Fools call wisdom foolishness.
―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch

One true friend is worth ten thousand kin.
―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch

Not to speak one’s mind is slavery.
―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch

I would rather die standing than kneel, a slave.
―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch

Fresh tears are wasted on old griefs.
―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
iridescent Jan 2014
I am clueless as to how I have dug a hole in this concrete ground, 60 feet deep. The dust I’ve been choking on does not bother me no more, layers piling upon my lungs like snow upon an exposed carcass. The slightest upheaval of my chest and tingling in my lungs reminds me that I still breathe. I’ve met scaffolds of bones down here. As I stare into their hollow sockets, I could never figure if they were ever esurient for something I held. They taught me how the ocean is never blue but only a de facto reflection of the sky. They said many mistook the sea for the sky, but never once mentioned the salt that contaminated their lungs-  the impetus that drove their feet 60 steps into the waves. A reconciliation it must have been. I doubt it made any difference, when their hearts were bleeding out; a pity it doesn’t make it any lighter. Down they sank.

I wonder if I mistook these soils for the sky. As I looked up, I realised that the sky only seemed further away. There’s something peculiarly comfortable down here, the little bumps on the walls and contours of the craters looked like jawlines of a new-found friend. The sun is so blindingly high in the sky. I preferred how sometimes I could see the man in the moon- shadows cast by imperfections on the moon’s surface. In the vague moonlight and scrawny silhouettes, the fact that the moon always has a dark side makes it tangible a thousand miles away. Sometimes, I lay on this wooden receptacle discovered upon excavation and gaze at the empty skies with my friend as he tells me what lies outside this trough. Happiness is a pack of hungry wolves and when they are done, you are left with only your marrows. I see things clearer down here, than above where they are smothered by smoke from the trees they burned to the ground. Sometimes the skies are dark with no hint of dusk, sometimes the sky is filled with white nebula; but most of the times, the days are shorter than the nights. But it never gets any darker down here.

I figured I could never mistake this hole for the sky. I was just chasing these broken pieces like I used to chase happiness. I have no idea how I’ve gotten this deep while trying to pick up these pieces that I don’t recognise. But the struggle tells me it’s real, and the pain keeps me awake. They say if you spend enough time with someone, you will fall in love. I guess that’s what happened between sadness and me.

I’m staying here.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016
it's 10:20 a.m., or a.d. for that matter,
i'm drinking for a sloppy mistake
i call ease, in circumstances that
are rather necessary for my balancing /
juggling act... the alarm on the clock just went off
but i woke up two hours earlier, listening to
b.b.c. radio 4... talk of birds (cuckoos /
winged parasites the specialist says) and
hindu assimilation into western opera via goa;
i'm watching a pair of sparrows build a
nest in my neighbour's guttering;
they noticed me perched on the windowsill
puffing out smoke, so they figured,
no better safety than under the watchful
presence of a dragon;
and indeed the chinese and the welsh
drew dragons long before any bones
of dinosaurs were unearthed;
it wasn't necessarily instinctive,
but a premonition, i.e. prior to the motion
of accommodating such a truth,
or truce, however you mind it;
so an eventful morning, while i stress over
the fact that i have two sleeping pills left
in the reservoir, and am about to phone
up the surgery to, "hopefully" getting a
triage appointment with the medical
bureaucrat / general practitioner (who
gets the entitlements of the status 'dr.'
and a 'dr.' salary, while the surgeons doing
all the ***** butchery gets less and only
a title 'mr.', i guess paying them less is
a motivational tool, look at all the pauper
artists of the Renaissance for a comparisons,
the pope and all his riches could never
enrich the message of our father);
so a pair of sparrows flying in and out
of the shrubbery, he brings back a beaked
piece of twig, she brings back her presence,
i don't know who to attach the
number of caterpillar legs i.e. who's
doing the leg-work to, i know she's the oven,
but why isn't she chopping twigs off?
she's just randomly flying to and fro -
and indeed man imploded, he knew
the hunter gatherer, the beer brewer, the plumber -
she exploded with the numbers,
and only in times of war was she conscripted
as equal and equally able in the realm of
man's autism of provisions of profession,
into that deathly hollow of obsession -
the prostitutes just laughed the whole thing off,
you could see them from 20 miles off:
ha ha he he... but boy were they *******
when they received an ****** on the job...
the highest reconciliation, and yet the lowest ebb,
the futility of the matter,
having gone through all that trouble
using skin creams to create a fake arousal
and actually reach the peak of being aroused
via an ******...
well i did once **** a girl with a dry *****...
obviously i'd proclaim it as ****,
i have to... we watched the film the machinist
prior - when you have *** with a girl
who isn't aroused but she still wants to,
then we'll have a talk about the precautions
that prostitutes take when having ***
without psychological intimacy,
oiling themselves up with skin cream
to ease the matter of engagement.
but still, two sparrows building a nest,
because they know a dragon perched on the
windowsill puffing out cigarette smoke
is formidable enough for a cuckoo or
predatory affairs curbing the multiplicative
chances of defence tactics being used -
and as man, we have become that in a sense,
we provide a multiplicative evaluation of things -
yes we are, yes we were, yes there's more to come -
but in terms of addition, there's hardly an
explanation at hand... i mean you diminish the
chances of addition by citing maxims of those who
added to the history, but that's still a multiplicative
evaluation - you haven't ventured into the realm
of adding something to the feat and fate of humanity,
you're still there, a maggot on a fishing hook-curl;
so whether you (x) to humanity and seek the algebraic
fascination of questioning to the extent of not really
answering, or whether you (+) to humanity and become
yourself, an algebraic fascination that asks and answers
in baby-steps... there are still two sparrows
building a nest in my neighbour's guttering.
Jack Aylward Oct 2015
Our lives are in embers
But we still cut
Still fold
Still burn;
Ignite
With old flames.

©Jack Aylward
Joseph Childress Oct 2010
A Hug,
How underrated
Available in the avail of a kiss,
Or the escape of one.

At birth
My mother showed me loves worth
Calmed the loudest cries
Hushing me
Just by holding me
Keeping me warm
Through the coldest times

As I grew older
This demonstration became more familiar
With family
So many I managed to manifest
My mannerisms allowed
Long embraces
That mattered so much!
All from a simple touch

The first time…
The first time,
With the one I loved
******* lacked satisfaction
If after the contraction
We weren’t in each others arms…
Relaxin…

Chest to chest
You hold her
Can two hearts get any closer?

If my only love
Was to take her love away
In the most selfish absurd way
Spurned my love
She still wouldn’t be too stubborn to hug
Once the years have spun away

The best reconciliation

A Hug,
A gesture so benign
Even if I were to express
With my best friend, a canine
Or my only companion, a feline
People still wouldn’t see I
As constructed of *******
Alerting not a soul
Hearts become sole
Even when shared with animals.

Making Love,
Is not limited to ***,
Or a kiss,
Instead,
The same bliss
Can be met
With a Hug.

What’s Love, But a Hug?
J M Surgent May 2015
She said there was zero squared chance of reconciliation
That our lives were not the circle she dreamed,
But two separate lines diverging at a point
Arranged in rays, and some other math terms I never understood
Because she finished top of her class, myself a comforting third
Tier, of the last tier, of those who made it through the door.
And the story has stayed the same, regardless of the term change
I was back in school, receiving a bad grade,
Thanking God for the bell curve, which rang
"Some things always stay the same, but keep trying anyway"
And my averages will remain somewhere between middle of the line
And the bottom of the drain.

So
I will raise my hand for hope,
I will raise my hand for shame,
I will raise my hand to look good,
And to never learn
Quite exactly what I should.
Paul Rousseau Jun 2012
Dean and I loitered on iron horseback
Flaked with nuances and peppered with a keen stutter
Our jokes had weight
Weight creates a gravitational pull
Our jokes had a gravitational pull
My clone emerged in the rearview mirror with his girlfriend
Dean and I thought that was funny
They were attracted to us, for once
We got a bite to eat, my head, like a gyroscope
Universal karma
Revolving, self-stabilization
Into the palm of reconciliation
Forced by nature
With interdependence
A means to measure
And counter each sentence
Ariel Baptista Jun 2015
**** me quietly in the current of the Caspian
That calloused-caviar undertow
Petroleum-pierced fragmented bone
You whispered things no child should know
And I was no child then
Trembling hands I emerge from the lion’s den
Wearing memory like white lines on the insides of my wrists
Until I forget they’re there
Blue eyes, blonde hair
Painted mouth and vacant stare
Here is who I have become

So kiss me quietly in the white-capped waves of the Caspian
My lips a promise sealed in black oil and blood
Hear the water tank trickle fill and flood
See the volcanoes burst with sacred mud
And feel my skeptical smile
Spectacle-clad you read my file
It’s been a while since I relived all of this

And I’m deciding if it’s far too late or far too soon
To begin to deconstruct our interactions
The repulsion, the attraction
The actions and reactions
That defined that interim allotment of time
I sit here now retracing your lines
On the rickety map in the back of my mind
Memory, so mute, so blind
And ripping down the track so quickly
Thrown back so sickly-bitterly
Like salt-lime-tequila

My memory has been mutilated
Slaughtered, drained and skinned
Treated, chopped and trimmed
And now I place it on a table in the street
Tell me, can you hear the pattern of its late heartbeat
As you grip a fleshy dripping pound of it in your hand
My memories are no-man’s land

So caress me carefully in the cool-calm caves of the Caspian
Recall the strange sounds of the early days
Sacred grounds, hot-garbage haze
Sandy winds, the bazaar maze
That made me acutely aware of the incomplete
Not even joyful summer heat
Could keep me from floating feet-up in the Georgian river
Memory smile, convulse and shiver

I intended this to be a reconciliation
Call me queen of counterproductive apology
Let’s redefine astrology
To gain some favour from the stars
Russian salad and white box cars
Deep *** holes in Badamdar
Truthfully I’ve never known who you really are
And I probably never will

But cut me kindly in the clouds above the Caspian
This is as close as we can get
Ignorant prejudice my one regret
But I have not forgotten all the good
And I will try to love you like I should
But tell me, is it better to have memories that lie
Or have nothing at all?
Shall I embrace the distortions or the abyss?
**** me carefully or give me a kiss
Tell me, what am I to do with this?
Cut me open or caress me
Call me child or undress me
Your impassive smile does not impress me
Tell me, how am I to process this?

I’ve swam your sea, I’ve coughed your air
I let you stroke and steal my sandy hair
I left without once looking back
No pillar of salt
No pile of ash
No blame or fault
Or debt or cash
But still the walls begin to crack
I feel the stitches start to tear
Murky-memory drags me eastward by my fresh-grown hair
Forcing my eyes, so-cold and ever-blue ever deeper into you,
the dark heart of the Caspian
Nick Moser Jan 2014
Her hands are shaking.
Trembling, trembling as the box moves closer to her reach.
Her heart is racing just as fast as she used to everyday after school when she ran from the school bullies.
Her heart is pumping blood just as her wrists do after she introduces them to a blade.
Her heart is slowly being mended just like the reconciliation of her relationship with her psychotic sister.
Her hands are shaking so bad she can't make out the outline of them in this dimly-lit room.
The candle light ricochets off the walls.
All she can think about is how he has stood beside her this whole time.
The room smells of cigarettes, which reminds her of the first time she met him.
That night at the corner liquor store where she went after her grandad died.
Trying to drown the pain by drowning herself in
pills and alcohol.
She was approached by a man who smelt of death who tried to steal her money, and if he got any further, her virginity.
Just as the man went to put his hands on her, the boy stepped up and protected her.
That trend continued for years as he protected not only her, but their love as well.
She knew she had finally found something worth loving truly for.
No more hiding who she truly was behind drugs, lies, and a noose hung ready in her closet.
She realized that he made her complete.
She'd walk to the end of the earth for him and he'd crawl with broken legs all the world around to see her.
But as the bills piled high and the eviction notices multiplied by the hundreds, they didn't know how to move on.
She turned back to the drugs and the pills as she knew she was drowning,
Drowning deeper and deeper.
Waiting to feel his hand plunge deep in the water to save her life.
And he'd do it every time.
She realized that he took her sky high with his love.
This would soon overcome all her addictions, leaving her only addicted to his love.
She could barely breathe as her hands touched the box.
By now she was surprised they hadn't fallen off from trembling,
Trembling so much.
As she opened the box, her breath rapidly started to leave her body.
She could feel herself going numb.
She couldn't speak.
As he pulled the ring from the box, her body shook more and more from excitement and shock.
He asked for her hand in marriage, and she started to cry with joy.
After they kissed he whispered, "You've always been my addiction."
Grace Conde Oct 2018
Fabric held between fragile fingers, closed eyes. Faded fabric, Her sweater dripping with watery despair. Suddenly, a violent wave of Her scent brings you to your knees, leaves you gasping for air, the Hole in your Heart burning, blistering and raw. She is so near, so close. Your ribs ache, your lungs cry out, no longer able to withstand the magnitude of your Grief.

Mournful, choking sobs, ones that leave cracks in your Bones, holes in your Skin. Until strong arms grab your shaking shoulders, a soft hand reaches over and gently wipes your Tears. It is warmer, so much warmer, and the air is lighter, as She takes your hand in Hers.

You hold Her tight, tighter than ever before, burying your face in Her shoulder, softly whispering words of Sorrow, Regret; words of Love and Reconciliation. How much you have missed Her, how empty you have been. She nods, She knows, for She too, has felt such pain. She too, has been lost among the loneliness.  

You let Her arms embrace you, Her laughter fills your ears, your heart. Because with Her beside you, Her arms around you, you can feel the shattered pieces start to re-align.

And for the first time since that cold September morning,

You can breathe again.
Kody dibble Mar 2016
All the signals of separation,
Are found in you,

Like chassis and demands,
Of fallen broken views,

These images that you form
And cease to be amazed,

By crowning thorns of death,
And foolish puns of fame,

Like truth I breath in waters,
Unknown among the rest,
Priced in God's great Kingdom
A soul who's put to rest,
Forever I entail,
To seek the seething Son,
The Man of Calvary broken,
For all the be set free
For time does not till does does tell
The Empty Chapter
By Zak Whittington

The grey face
The empty chapter
The blank page
The dusty pen beside
-----

Between heartbeats lurks a sad silence
Whose footfalls fall on deaf ears
A beast of pain and shallow fears
He slinks, silent
Soft as the grave to which he will drag you
Cover your eyes
Avert your mind
Cross yourself
Count to three
The monster is here
Between shaking fingers peek and see
A glimpse of profound irony
The Mirror
A horrifying glimpse of Your Self
Alone on a barren world

Desolation

Between lives lies silence
Empty quotes hang stupidly over empty heads
Drying to dust
Turn up the music

Frustration

Shake the shoulder
Strike the hand
Bite the Shepherd
**** the Man
Burn the Book
Ride the Snake
Find the phony
Shoot the fake
Grab the apple
Waste the day
Take the staff
and lead the way

Isolation

With your arms around me
My shoulders have grown cold
Despite the hands on them
The Mirror shows
The Mirror knows
There are no hands

There are no hands in this wasteland
Just me and the rocks
With my heart beneath them

Elation

The Monster awoke before dawn
He put his boots on
He took a mask from his bed-stand
And he tried it on

Hang on quick gimme that mirror my lipstick slipped.
My smile wasn't quite on right.

Watch me dance
Watch me writhe and crawl
Watch me smile through it all
Watch this cheerful, painted grin
As I try to hold it all in
Waiting for the worms to win
I'll never have to lie again
Beneath thin skin,
Flesh rots.

I do a good impression of myself.

Starvation

Fat cat
Big man, pig
Mean one, green one
What do you hope to find?
Love, ***, drugs, joy
Home, cars, health, wealth, life
Cling, clang, fake pain with a tin in hand
Lovey-dove flowers and a Hallmark card
Satisfaction
Exhilaration
Jubilation
The second tree from the corner?
Squinting, with hands awash
Of pennies, nickels, dimes
Buy the way
Buy the light
The rich lead the blind
Kick the bucket
Sell the farm
Leave the world behind
(oh is that the time?)

The diamonds fall from stiff fat hands
Like petals from a rose
Or leaves from a clover
(three leaves? or four?)
Shuffle
Four queens
Three queens
Two queens shine
Two jacks
One jack
One-eyed
Blind
One heart, two heart
Three hearts, four?
As if I even knew anymore

Exaltation

Hot-shot soul man
What a sham you are
Far sight, foresight
Big hats, flashlight
The Family* has it all
Mad man, fake plan
Look down at your shoes
Torn suit
Worn boots
You've got no soles

*The Family:
Forgive me Father for I have sinned
I have watched Brother Jack ******* with the Man
And without a thought of why, I jumped right in
I saw Uncle Sam in bed with the pigs
I have forsaken my kindred
I have held fornication with the Computer and the iPod
I have sold my body for acceptance
I have ******* my neighbor
I have cheated on my wife
And now I love Big Brother too

I have driven the Big Truck
I have ridden the snake
To the edge of the lake
In the heart of the jungle.

When life gives you apples
Make lemonade

Annihilation

Roll out the tanks, boys,
Grab the big guns
We gonna have ourselves
A bit of fun
Spot the *****, sight the Jew
Squeeze off a shot and watch him run

Men run, blood runs
Red dirt drinks it all
In this wasteland
The dogs of war howl misery
Black blood, white blood
The crows aren't biased

Twinkle, twinkle crescent star
How I wonder what you are
White man died red
Saddamite, *******
Surprise the pawn
And now he's dead
Like the top-heavy King
With his massive head
And his high fortress
And his heavy crown
To ashes, to ashes
We all fall down.

But it's all fixed with a quick grin
A hand shake and a blank stare
Then you go back to your corner
And they remember they don't care

Reconciliation

(I do a good impression of myself)

Taketh thy hand up
Rip off thy mask
Do not stop at the skin
For it is shallow and flakey
and comes off quite nice
Don't mind the flesh now
Get to the bones
Dig past the maggots and flies
Until there's nothing left,
Then release your soul with bright knives

...

The world is quiet again
At the eleventh hour
When men are dust
We sit and wait
For the bells to toll

---
The fractured chapter
The soiled page
The broken pen
The jet-black sea
Sprays of darkness on ivory
Splashes of shallow imagery
And dried-up drops of creativity
and with so much left to write

Simplicity is killing me.
Inspired by:
The End by The Doors
Normal by Porcupine Tree
The Hollow Men by TS Eliot
The Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
Pigs by Pink Floyd
Sheep by Pink Floyd
Waiting for the Worms by Pink Floyd
The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger
Animal Farm by George Orwell
1984 by George Orwell
The Second Tree From the Corner by EB White
Lord of the Flies by William Golding
The Gunslinger by Stephen King
Ahmed Saheb Sep 2015
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Here are some of the very common spell requests for Casting Love Spells:

attract my Boy Friend or Girl Friend
Best Friend to Love Me
Love Return Spell or Spell so that My Love Can Return Back To Me
Lust For Me Spell
Spells to Reunite Lost Love or Lovers
Get Back Ex Boy friend or Ex Girlfriend by spells
Bring Back Love Spells or Lover Spells
get back my love who is with some one else
break up spell to break a love relation so that I can get my love back to me
very powerful Gay Love Spells
How to attract Lovers of the Same ***
I am looking for REKINDLE LOVE
spell by which my lover will see me in dreams
Psychic Love Spell
get Instance Love Spells that Work
Bind My Love Forever ( Love Binding Spells)
want to fix a Broken Love Relation
I want to stop and avoid Divorce or Separation
Faithful relation with my partner
There is a women in my lovers life, how do I get rid of this other women
End Regrets Spell
Attract my Lover Sexually
Fix or Mend my Broken Heart?
prevent or keep others from talking about my man
toforce my lover to propose to me
Urgent, Emergency Spell
powerful Love Spell
find my soul mate
Lost love back spell
Unconditional Love Spell
Reconciliation Spell
Breakup Spell
Tame my Lover Spell
Make Me Spell
STOP His Roving Eyes Spell
Be Faithful To Me Spell
Turn Friend into Lover Spell
Holiday Love Spell
Starting Over Spell
Forgive Me Spell

Solve All these type of problems by Ahmed ji contact +91-9828783978
Harrison wisdom Jan 2019
Suicide is not an option
Everything has to be done with caution
Be it wrong accusation or depression
Taking your life will reduce our population
Believe me, all you need is affection
Speak to someone who'll relieve you of your oppression
Who'll give you nothing but compassion
You may need trust and care in addition
When facing life challenges and tribulation
Take not suicide for a compensation
Try to have a little comprehension
Of the afterlife using your discretion
And also have a little conversation
Involving you and your intuition
Considering suicide may be as a result of impression
Or thought in abstraction
Or even to punish a relation
No matter the condition
It doesn't worth your life as a rendition
If you do plan of taking this action
I beg you take this into consideration
And do a bit of cogitation
That suicide is not an option
Though, it's taking it toll on the nation
Leading many to quick expiration
My fella, suicide is not an option
Try to do some reconciliation
And make sure to somebody you mention
To get your mind in a good position
Or perhaps it might change your situation
And set you in a new direction
Again I say suicide is not an option
Take this into admonition
That your afterlife may as well be in inversion
That live each day with vision
Devote smile to your face a portion
Do activities in admiration and jubilation
And in you life begins a resurrection
Thereby killing the ulterior notion
And also averting a possible perdition
Because suicide is never an option.
Nat Lipstadt May 2019
~for better days for the poet betterdays~

mournful tunes play silently, but still too often,
eyes wet but in corners kept, recurring then the
memories, keepsakes, letters, books, small trinkets,
not dusty, but dusky, resting on in-between ledge of a
mountain-sized twilight of well lit shadowy haziness,
edgy dark brilliance, a comprehensible contrast non-comprehendible

tunes that bless with equal measures of grief,
comforting, by memorable card flashes of good relief,
a dividing line, hazy and frequented crossed, a sort of path,
with no destination signaled, as if the path itself was an end,
to a meaning, a solution, with no clarity divined, a division
of sight and insight, providing an ill fitting reconciliation

mourning is electric, morning is electric,
letters, words bottled up in evaporating perfume bottles,
seeking the comfort of dissipation unto a larger atmosphere,
the scent in everything tangible, stronger still yet, in intangibles
that can erode but never ever fail to return instantly when voked,
by vision, odor, a particular child’s smile, line in a poem volunteered

recovered, uncovered, a post first writ to be written, discovered,
when time and place coincidentally breathe together, at last,
beckoning you to places where memory serves only as a pleasuring,
upright mind marker, decorated in chains perpetual reforging,
absent pain, gleaming dreamings full-replacing longings for pasts,
new verses composed, passing, a grand addition to a child’s legacy
loss can only be tempered, reforged, and ultimately used for our  own betterment when the heart commands, now write!
Stephen E Yocum Sep 2013
Man, woman, fear, touch, kiss, scent, taste, magical embrace, *******,
exaltation, celebration, emotional intoxication, tenderness, cuddling.  .  .

Fear, doubt, expectation, incrimination, inebriation, allegations, regret,
concerns of damnation, impregnation, incarceration, restraining order. . .

Reconciliation, fear, Man, Woman, touch, kiss, scent, taste, embrace . . .
And you know the rest
And somewhere in all that, if your lucky is a little thing called LOVE.
Finding, getting and keeping it, well that is up to the fates and you.
Juned Khatri Jul 2015
Everywhere there were black nights
You came with the dawn;
Bringing reason to live,
See an unnecessary life ..
My only boat that was lost at sea
Edge brought to you in any way ..

There is some connection with you,
there is some connection with you,
How do I know, what I know about it,
there is some connection with you..

what is to be said now,
I have to live,
forgetting the heavens,
taking refuge in your arms..

It obliged me while going
A passing moment fulfilled my wishes
I got a view of yours, got a sparkling star
As if I got a sign of luck..

Taking some reconciliation
Angry desires,
You've come to silence
Negotiations to complete consultations,
My only boat that was lost at sea
Edge brought to you in any way ..
CharlesC Apr 2012
Shrieking birds
front porch disturbance
lilac springtime
much does depend
on
reconciliation
this sunny
morning.
Camisado Feb 2010
In amber clad, with pillars of autumn, justice ascended, along with truth and reconciliation, on Gettysburg.
HALO ! : best game ever !

— The End —