"thermal" poems
Step into the sunshine my friend,
let it kiss your face and refine your spirit into a golden bar.
Step into the sunshine my friend,
come out of the shadows of your past,
emerge as a saintly being clothed in angelic white.
Step into the sunshine my friend;
let the great sun inflame your soul
with magnificent grace and transformative power.
Step into the sunshine my friend,
wipe the darkness from your eyes
see what miracles the new day brings.
Believe in all the light you see.
Step into the sunshine my friend,
let radiant beams of love ignite your passions;
your heart will bust forth like an exploding star
washing the galaxy with positive energy.
Step into the sunshine my friend,
receive the fantastic glories the day brings to you
and revel in them all.
Step into the sunshine my friend;
bathe yourself in the warm river of humanity.
Recognize yourself for the first time in its watery mirror.
Step into the sunshine my friend,
witness the delicate flower break through the hard crust of earth,
marvel as its fragrant bud blooms.
Step into the sunshine my friend,
experience the wonder in a child’s face,
let them lead you to the next 10,000 sunrises.
Step into the sunshine my friend,
feel the soft rays touch your wounds;
know how the daylight can heal.
Step into the sunshine my friend,
smell the ocean heave against the climbing sun
listen to the wisps of the meadowland's verdant fragrance.
Step into the sunshine my friend;
see the sparrow take flight toward the light,
watch its tireless wings glide on a blanket of rising thermal air.
Step into the sunshine my friend.
Music Selection: Ramsey Lewis
Sun Goddess
Oakland
122698
jbm
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 9:31 AM UTC
where solar lips are parted
and crescent ******* hardened
cobalt fire licks your name off its oldest breath
this ****** hollow bends its neck through thermal skies and sand
scarlet waves of heat off your (sweet ancestral) hand
come inside, the door is open. the answer's always yes
Medusa’s gaze would turn to sand
if she knew the stony glories spanned
within rock candy walls ablaze
flood plains carry hydrogen freight
from your abyss' collapsing weight
the broken ***** flowers rusting in the haze
long stem bows in the cut orchestral
steal blood from the times ancestral
the ink has spilled and left a stain
under folded layers of skin
that the mirror reflects from views within
your eyes are naked lights, innumerable and plain.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 11:51 PM UTC
I fell in love with a girl.
And when I say fell, I mean crashed, heart-first.
Willingly....
Immersed every inch of my self.
Soul-first...
Into this love...
We went swimming.
So willingly.
And I held you...
So close.
So tight.
And we slept so sound in those surroundings.
Tangled.
Together.
In silence.
In the dark.
You didnt need a TV those nights to keep the boogeyman at bay.
So willingly...
I quenched you in my arms...
So that our hearts could perpetuate perfect pulses.
In unison...like a symphony of moving atoms.
And we produced thermal fusion.
Tangled.
Together.
I see you.
My reflection.
That first time we locked eyes...
We saw souls.
And this collision formed one heavenly body.
That's why I cried over this division.
This imperfect perfection.
And I never gave 2nd thought when you told me i'd never lose you.
I believed you.
But then...I wanted to.
I wanted you.
I'm still trying to brush away the dust as it settles into sentiment.
This reflection...
Rippled but real...
Forms rings of imperfect perfection...
When we're both looking in the same direction.
May 7, 2011
May 7, 2011 at 4:54 PM UTC
I Intend Inspiring Indians Internationally
After Accounting All Aspiring Appointments
These Thermal Things Though Tastefully Testing
She Seldom Sleeps Some Sultry-Smothery Styles
Often Opening On Object-Orifice Of Operation
Crudely Caring Cant Cross Covering Case
About All Astral And Attractive Allocations
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 4:46 AM UTC
“The most important scientific revolutions all include, as their only common feature, the dethronement of human arrogance from one pedestal after another of previous convictions about our centrality in the cosmos.”
Stephen Jay Gould
Give me
vacuum tube torus Lorentz-Klein interference receptors
dual noble-gas maser integration processors
at least one
prosthetic Gaussian carbon-coated ribosomal Tesla coil
an anthropomorphic hierarchical temporal meme-pseudopod
some
support vector k-nearest neighbor algorithms
reverse engineered quantum optic die-cast silica motherboards
self-assembling three dimensional electro-active protein polymers
maybe even
a superconducting spectral alkali resonance analyzer
paired with
harmonizing piezoelectric kinematic thermal modules
dipped in
subzero Kurzweil-circuit nanite neurotransmitters
and voila!
God.
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 5:18 PM UTC
Spring comes little, a little. All April it rains.
The new leaves stick in their fists; new ferns still fiddleheads.
But one day the swifts are back. Face to the sun like a child
You shout, 'The swifts are back!'
Sure enough, bolt nocks bow to carry one sky-scyther
Two hundred miles an hour across fullblown windfields.
Swereee swereee. Another. And another.
It's the cut air falling in shrieks on our chimneys and roofs.
The next day, a fleet of high crosses cruises in ether.
These are the air pilgrims, pilots of air rivers.
But a shift of wing, and they're earth-skimmers, daggers
Skilful in guiding the throw of themselves away from themselves.
Quick flutter, a scimitar upsweep, out of danger of touch, for
Earth is forbidden to them, water's forbidden to them,
All air and fire, little owlish ascetics, they outfly storms,
They rush to the pillars of altitude, the thermal fountains.
Here is a legend of swifts, a parable —
When the Great Raven bent over earth to create the birds,
The swifts were ungrateful. They were small muddy things
Like shoes, with long legs and short wings,
So they took themselves off to the mountains to sulk.
And they stayed there. 'Well,' said the Raven, after years of this,
'I will give you the sky. You can have the whole sky
On condition that you give up rest.'
'Yes, yes,' screamed the swifts, 'We abhor rest.
We detest the filth of growth, the sweat of sleep,
Soft nests in the wet fields, slimehold of worms.
Let us be free, be air!'
So the Raven took their legs and bound them into their bodies.
He bent their wings like boomerangs, honed them like knives.
He streamlined their feathers and stripped them of velvet.
Then he released them, Never to Return
Inscribed on their feet and wings. And so
We have swifts, though in reality, not parables but
Bolts in the world's need: swift
Swifts, not in punishment, not in ecstasy, simply
Sleepers over oceans in the mill of the world's breathing.
The grace to say they live in another firmament.
A way to say the miracle will not occur,
And watch the miracle.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
I got an award
For being the stupidest young boy
With a wax soul
And impressionable.
I thought I'd find something
Nestled here amidst the trees
And I did,
But in no halls but the hall of god
Speaking to me
Dancing between the leaves
Singing with every whispered breeze
And yet when I stepped
Past the threshold and into the
"real world"
I was sold
A maniac of utter delinquency.
Everybody there
Waiting for their turn
Auditioning for the favor of hearts
They'll never win
Can't see
Laughing and wondering
Reading without comprehension
Sticking their *** in the face of the classics
Lap dogs licking the milk from
Professed *******
Thinking they'll be next
Its not resentment--
Is it fair to be bent
Towards dollars that've never been spent?
All those silly parks
Divided from the civilized lands
Frontiers of the past
Left to be little staging areas
For that invisible hand
Kids go on spring break
Take pictures between the towns
Maybe a stop along
On the way
To Vegas
Deep in the desert where it'd **** any other day
I cannot escape the unfathomable beauty of that place,
Living off the world in a way God said
To toil and love the pain
In a way nobody does
I am guilty of pride and
Stuffed like a pie full of anger
Cooking it into solid joy
And trying hard to scrape the cancerous crust away
All the dark sides we avoid
But screaming the heat away is good
Thermal induction is the name of the game
Entropic fizzlements like bubbles in the wind
Sublimating all that ever stood.
Yet soon enough I'll be born anew
And what I leave behind
Lifted up
Nautoloid shell
With a sparkling abalone interior
Someone will place on their shelf
And think,
"I wonder where that thing had been."
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 12:37 PM UTC
Day's end, sun's caisson doth wend
Residual rays a respite to append
Twilight's shroud dreary dividend
Swirls of gray into firmament blend
Vestments of light shed sacral veil
Luna's naked, pale orb flashes its spell
Twinkling sprites across dark tides sail
Constellation's mystical portents braille
Nyx, Erebos eclipse Hemera's blithe melody with bass duet
Earth's warmed bed yields its thermal blanket
Ocean tides move in rhythmic tandem to cadence of lunar clarinet
Swarming shadows stalk each footstep paring each dark secret
Greek gods
Nyx: goddess of Night
Erebos: goddess of Darkness
Hemera: goddess of Day
Sep 15, 2011
Sep 15, 2011 at 6:35 AM UTC
It was 29° (f) degrees this morning with a waning gibbous (¾) moon. Still, as we started our run, it was dark enough that the world was rendered in black and white. Lisa was a sepia print of herself while Charles was a large, quiet shadow, a dark visual noise pattern.
We usually jog from our dorm, down to and along New Haven Harbor and back. Lisa and I love the ocean. The wind was in our faces this morning and there were no sparkling moon refractions in our direction, which made the water musou and colorless.
I’ve gotten my outfit down to a science, leggings under shorts, four long sleeve, dry-wicking spandex tops (layering is important), a power-wool-earflap-beanie, thermal neck gaiter and quantum, icebreaker gloves (with touch-screen compatibility) - you gotta dress warmly but be able to shed layers as needed.
I listen to audiobooks while we run. Right now I’m on book 5 of the ‘The Expanse’ series. I don’t have time to read anything fun these days, so I listen to science-fiction/fantasy while I workout. I love the new AirPod Pro feature that automatically turns the sound down if anyone talks.
I wear a fitbit charge around my right ankle and my Apple watch as well - they both track my run - the fitbit is more accurate but my watch sends my workout stats to my siblings - we’re uhh, sort of competitive.
At first, as we came up on the harbor, it was impossible to see the intersection of the two dark oceans - the great terrestrial and the greater galactic - but as we turned for home, there was an atmospheric scatter of blue at the edge of the horizon, heralding the sunrise on our retreating backs.
musou = one of the darkest shades of black
Nov 2, 2023
Nov 2, 2023 at 7:41 PM UTC
it turns out
Mother Nature is
just as indecisive
as the rest of us
it seemed that
she had finished
with her winter
her day-long frosts
and biting winds
no longer the need
to cocoon oneself
in protective layers
when venturing out
for nothing more than
a bottle of milk
of down-stuffed coats
and twice-wrapped scarves
woollen hats
and thermal socks
it felt like
we had moved on
our spring had arrived
just in time
we could enjoy
the brisk early mornings
despite their chill
safe in the knowledge
that the gentle touch
of afternoon warmth
would shortly follow
the biggest setback
to be expected
was an intermittent
morning-to-evening downpour
dampening our anticipation
though only temporarily
of any plans we had made
until the puddles were dry
or had drained away
it may have been
a false start
but i'm loathe to say
we were tricked
or call it
an outright lie
those brightened days
were a welcome change
enjoyed by all
we were simply
carried away by
the primaveral allusions
lulling us enough
to forget the cold
and its significance
catching us unprepared
and exposed
like those delicate flowers
so recently bloomed
buried for now
beneath this weight
of snow
Mar 10, 2023
Mar 10, 2023 at 11:29 AM UTC
Gazing south as if some wise, well worn fisherman,leaning against the wroughted railed pier in all its victorian, gordy, standing, splendor.
Warmed and held by the summer sun as close as shared spoon-cuddled arms.
On thermal air, calls and laughter rise from towelled steaked plots
blinding and shading the razor sharp hungry sea-gulls eye from flakey white flesh in all its golden battered salt-shuck sharpness,
competeing on the nose with hand-held melting creamyness, as they waft and weave gently by.
Below the slatted sound , the magic hypnotic spell of lapping waves lift and tilt me on a day dream of youthful lost love.
To a day we made our sun run in all its lazyness, dimming the enviour moon in its wake and kissing still the hands on the pasty-face black towering clock
As time slipped way and was some where else.
With worn drift wood and tingleling toes you defaced the sand with a graphity the council tryed but couldn't erace.
And there it lies still, benieth the smooth pebbled shore,
kissed each day with salty tears and remembered sighs.
A fearful screaming siren pieces the soft English air, Its doppled blast, chilling, pushing, demanding its screeching way through the brain, to some others pained, tear filled day,
then fades on the breeze.
A sun blushed child frowns through pink Brighton rock lips and eyes as blue as the sea, a secert smile is shared as if in that innocence I knew that one magic day she will run on skipping painted toes and giggles sweet to etch for him in soft blank sand her love on this dreamy day beach.
So off the sea and off the pier I strole, absorbed and lost among the tripping faced crowd,into the sun dipped west and home alone.
Yet knowing you will remain forever mine, held in crystal dimonded grains, whilst around the bitter -sweet changing tides ebb and flow
down
through
the
years.
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 1:41 AM UTC
I cannot,
Soar through the air,
And fly freely,
Across the thermal,
Winds.
My outstretched hands
Cannot delve into,
The rain clouds,
And disperse,
The ever growing,
Fractals of grey.
Water droplets,
Causing my skin,
To concave.
Leaving me limp,
Exceedingly fragile.
My bones,
Crumbling under,
The pressure.
It's as if,
I am your paper plane,
Left lying,
In the murky,
Puddle water.
*Daunghting realms,
Of forgetful delight,
Causing me,
Too all but,
disintegrate.*
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
You know how when
You put a kettle on a stove,
Maybe for tea
Or something else maybe
You get the kettle
To put on the stove
And you put water in it
From the tap
Or if you're in
The inner city
Then maybe from
A jug
From cvs
Or rite aid
I don't know which is closer
To your kettle
That you're putting the
Water in
To put on the stove
But the tap smells funny
And tastes like minerals
And artificiality
So if you have a bit of money, Maybe an on-tap
Filter or brita
You turn the little
**** on the front
Of the oven
And you hear
The distressed, hurried
Sound of a component
Desperately trying
To do its job
It seems like forever
But it's just a couple
Seconds
The spark catches
The gas
And glorious blue
Energy leaps out
And causes
Instant condensation
On the side of the
Kettle you've filled
With water
And put on the stove
And then
Primordial chemistry
As old as old
Changes ****
Around inside
No time
For a chem lesson
Just listen
And then after a few minutes
A blast of
Piping hot
Shrill
Pure energy
Explodes out of the top
In an earsplitting
Harried call
To you to let you
Know the kettle
You put on the stove
Is now ready
For you.
All that pressure,
From so much activity,
Before you even
Turned the heat on
You walked around
Gathering materials
And moving about
And all the calories
You burn thinking
About it
And then the
Thermal activity
Which is breathtaking
In its simple
But ever so complicated
Perfect order
And predictability
And all of this simply
Amazing process
Culminates
In one constant,
High energy geyser
Of released pressure.
This is equivalent
To the results
Of one thought
About you.
What a life
As a kettle.
Yea.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 11:07 PM UTC
Ever notice how a piece of timber first catches on it burns so bright...
There's sort of a passion to it?
How it moves along flaring hot or hotter,
flaming-out here or there...
Coming around again to exhaust all efforts at staying alight...
...but it matters not.
That dark hardened shell of the wood has nothing left to give...
...can't maintain itself.
Sure, -you can add accelerant.
A later something, perhaps different in thermal expression?
In the end only speeds up the process of becoming nothing; as ashes cast into the winds.
Charred pieces were better left alone, dissolving in raindrops over time?
Never rekindle a thing once burnt.
Yes I suppose that makes logical sense...
Unless you feel cold? *
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
in scorched ground
severed roots remain
untethered tumbleweed
rides the thermal
on a heady rush to heaven
only to drop shattered
on the desolate highway
a once lush landscape
in full splendid flower
abundance freely given
but for one desire
do not let me die
for lack of water
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 5:52 PM UTC
(Plaster cast at Pompeii)
[THE TOUR GUIDE]
*“Ladies and gentlemen, here we are at Pompeii's
fabled Thermal Baths where heated water was
passed through duct work in the walls. One can
imagine Nero himself stopping here on one of
his visits.”*
[BONITO]
Bonito stepped out of the bathhouse and looked up.
Vesuvius rumbled - shaking ash and fire skyward.
Breaking into a run he sought the south road,
glancing back anxiously at the
vast dark cloud billowing down the mountain.
*"The principal city roads were recessed
and wagons were required to have standardized
wheelbases and clearances to fit in channels cut
into the stone. Follow me please to the residential
area.”*
He gained the road and his feet
pounded the stones of the “via stabiana.”
The cloud multiplied and fell on the city.
Ever deepening layers of ash clogged Benito’s path.
Heart pounding in his chest he lengthened his strides.
*“Leaving the opulent villas with their spacious
atria, we now enter the market area where we
shall see a display of remarkable interest. During
excavations, empty spaces were discovered in
the ash deposits.”*
The rising ash captured his left leg.
Bonito inhaled the fiery air and ******
forward into a burst of falling soot
but was unable to finish his stride.
*“Archaeologists poured plaster into the voids
revealing the outlined bodies of Pompeiins
trapped in their final moments. Take, for example,
this man caught in mid-step with no time
to escape the life choking dust.”*
June, 2006
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 1:32 PM UTC
it was a quarter past 11 when the silhouette of the
steam locomotive changed in its inertia, and i
was left standing in dense smoke attempting to connect
neurons to nerve impulses. my train was leaving and i
was not aboard.
the sprinting algorithm of my prior steps had come
to allude me and I am left pondering as to where
these moments had gone. As overextension of one's
arm defies the boiler pumping steam, it's thermal
radiation forcing me to become The Contortionist.
with chills stepping up my spine, taking residue in each
vertebra before ascending, crashing and descending, as
contact with hand and train is made, and relaxation comes
with it. i sense the gentle acceleration, as this safety net of relaxation
fades. my weakening muscles struggle to become satanists of physics
and momentum gained
is lost in equilibrium
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 11:33 PM UTC
You are my lover
My only lover
Whom the world
Shows its colour
And when you need
A tasty other
I am yours to smother
You are my well-girthed king
My only king
Hotter than a thermal spring
Pull on my apron string
Undress me
And impress me
****** me with your violin
Play me like a pan flute
My lover, my brute
Stroke my ego
My resolve is dilute
And you, my broken parachute
Will be my demise
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 1:53 AM UTC
My Prayer for Thee
Oh, Lord, Thou art my only Love
Thou art my True Love Dove
i treasure me in Thy Vector
and feel me blessed in my daily concerns
i know this is only hellish Earth
temporarily and no eternal worth
only Thy Signs and Thy Spoken Words
i have absorbed and am absorbing still,
Thy Holy Words and Thy Only Will
naturally, i have learned eversince;
i learned to see Thee as my Holy Prince
to listen to Thee as my Holy Father
to hear Thy Words than rather
turn my sight to satan's rites.
Thou art The Only One i worship
Thou art The Only One i am praying to
Thou art The Only One, Thou art my All
Thou art this side and
Thou art my whole side of my All;
Thou stand above my Darling,
Thou stand above my Beloved,
Thou stand above my Beloved Ones,
Thou stand above my Alls.
Thou art The Holy Father,
The Holy Son,
and The Holy Ghost.
i am a humble girl,
i asked for three special sons;
Thou gave me three special sons.
i knocked and asked for love, life and food;
Thou opened,
and gave me love, life and food
for my family, my Life's destiny;
i asked still, Thou gave me constantly.
i could not fight,
Thou gave me strength, Thou gave me Power;
i grow stronger by the hour.
Thy words are Divine;
i am craving for Thee, Oh, Holy Mine;
i am all Thine and Thou art Mine.
Forgive this humble heart of me,
for every sin i have done unto Thee.
i pray to Thee for every soul i've met;
i thank Thee for Thy mercy i get,
from Thy Holy and Forgiving Heart.
i nestle in Thy thermal,
i warm me in Thy vernal,
i warm me in Thy embrace.
No my Lord, i would not race.
i feel me ablaze, every time i praise Thee,
and pray to Thee, my Lord,
blessing feel i get for each of Thy Word.
My Lord, My eternal Love-Superiour,
Thou art my heavenly Father.
i am your constant love-warrior;
Thou art in Heaven,
hallowed be Thy Name,
Thy Kingdom come
on earth as it is in Heaven.
Amen.
© Sylvia Frances Chan
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 1:27 AM UTC
3D Printing
Proud owners of 3D Printers !
Makers of 3D Printers !
Designers of 3D Printers !
What you are creating
Does't hold a candle
To Designer-maker-owner
All-in-one models
Created eons ago !!
It is the female of
Every species of mammals !
Bones, flesh, blood
Nerves, memory cells
Power plants to convert
Food to energy !
Control systems to regulate
Regeneration of fresh cells
Filter system to provide
Clean oxygen to
Fuel the Power Plants
With Powerful binoculars
Audio production mechanics
Audio receptors to pass on
Grey cells enclosed in
Secure and hard shell
Strands of fine hairs
To cushion impact and
As thermal insulation
Protection shields for
All sensory units
Efficient drainage system
Propulsion facilities
Guidance and command
Center for all activities!!
Processors working 24/7
Processing gene information
Tweaking and fine tuning
Some info and trashing a few
Data storage many TB more
Than many data centers could
Offer with minimum
Upkeep and maintenance
Self-Encryption capabilities
And above all the ability
To produce both male and
Female of their species
All from getting just
One ***** and
ultimately infusion
of LIFE
Into the product as casual
As our breathing.
Do we know the creator?
Different Religions have
Different Names for it
But all the same it is
THE ONLY ONE
That counts :-)
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
Galactic curls in spirals swirl, entwining twisted mystery,
where time unrolls in blackened holes, no longer bright and blistery,
but writ like runes on starry dunes enclosed in cosmic history
Galactic dust, from novas' gusts, congesting empty spaces
once fatefully flung beyond the tongue of burnt out astral traces,
may recompress and coalesce in distant times and places
Galactic dwarves, like ancient wharves with silent planets mooring
yet still in spin though long done in, hide flares no longer soaring -
magnetic webs of eons ebb, in thermal fusion roaring
Galactic tides warp space divides, call forth sublime creation
while bending clocks in rippled shocks, unfolding time dilation
that seems to crown the flowing gown of pulsars' pulsed gyration
Galactic stew, a seething brew, midst background noise and chatter
like Chaos reigns, the sole remains of missing antimatter,
with just a trace to form a space-time, curved or somewhat flatter
Galactic glue holds something new: dark energy and matter
that interacts and counteracts the ancient Big Bang splatter:
a cosmic soup of strings and loops, a universal batter
Galactic life's replete and rife 'neath lactic milky wafer,
though solar gales leave unseen trails of cosmic rays, the strafer;
but nonetheless, one must confess, it seems there's nowhere safer
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
Robins scurry, heads askew
listening to an underground frequency
smooth rasp of worm skin slipping
through subterranean mazes.
The ever-changing pond
mirrors varied green and clouds
mythical beasts reflect and rest
weary from endless migration.
Eagles ride the wind
fingered wings minutely adjusting
as the current rockets them aloft
on a thermal through the blue.
The heron balanced on a spine of rock
cares only if the tiny fish
silver under the surface skin
will soon belong to him.
Each in tune effortlessly
on earth, in air
never regretting being here
or there.
While earthbound creature, I
am reconciled to a grounded fate
as winter rain lashes the edges
of my ragged, useless wings.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 11:04 AM UTC
I am your paper plane,
Soaring gently through,
The thermal winds.
Gradually losing momentum,
Being crushed by the force,
Of your atmosphere.
*Our love is crumpled,
Even before I hit the pavement.*
I am your paper boat,
Sailing soothly across,
The hidden tides.
Slowly beginning to sink,
Down deeper into the murky water,
Your raindrops creating a swell,
A tidal wave of depression.
*Our love is unrequited,
You'd never cry for me.*
I am your paper kite,
Your paper bird,
Your paper rose.
Each object useless and fragile,
Easily broken and destroyed.
Yes - they may be beautiful, some more than others.
But ultimately they can be discarded.
Ultimately I am not beautiful.
Each object can be remade again,
All you need is another piece of paper.
And I guess that's all I am to you,
A worthless piece of paper.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
To run after material fame
Counted not rich sensitive game;
Among wealth, *** and love affairs,
Character is above all arbiter.
As adorn ornament each bridal's limb,
An artist make active clumsy-wart-stone;
Company bear trophy by aggressive troops
Oblige character graceful at distress grown;
The character die seldom minus bloom,
Yet en-lights personalty fade in gloom;
Usually left little paid proper care,
Although always seen inclined sincere;
Certain place customary said temple
Where almighty's statue noted install
Estimated body deserving only when;
Thermal of character never fall;
Effort need to build the character
Honesty and endurance are weapon mere;
By effacement total thought rankle
And block pulse hide egotism perennial;
Good name lost can regain later
But character pleases rare if blot;
A richest jewel survive human tread;
Turn soul ill, fret, spiritless on rot.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 7:00 AM UTC