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co'h Dec 2015
you think of me, therefore i am.
you think of me not, therefore i am not.
how could i be, when you've got all of me.
think of me so i can think of you, i only am, when i think of you.
please think of me and let me be.
3

“Sic transit gloria mundi,”
  “How doth the busy bee,”
“Dum vivimus vivamus,”
  I stay mine enemy!

Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”
  Oh caput cap-a-pie!
And oh “memento mori”
  When I am far from thee!

Hurrah for Peter Parley!
  Hurrah for Daniel Boone!
Three cheers, sir, for the gentleman
  Who first observed the moon!

Peter, put up the sunshine;
  Patti, arrange the stars;
Tell Luna, tea is waiting,
  And call your brother Mars!

Put down the apple, Adam,
  And come away with me,
So shalt thou have a pippin
  From off my father’s tree!

I climb the “Hill of Science,”
  I “view the landscape o’er;”
Such transcendental prospect,
  I ne’er beheld before!

Unto the Legislature
  My country bids me go;
I’ll take my india rubbers,
  In case the wind should blow!

During my education,
  It was announced to me
That gravitation, stumbling,
  Fell from an apple tree!

The earth upon an axis
  Was once supposed to turn,
By way of a gymnastic
  In honor of the sun!

It was the brave Columbus,
  A sailing o’er the tide,
Who notified the nations
  Of where I would reside!

Mortality is fatal—
  Gentility is fine,
Rascality, heroic,
  Insolvency, sublime!

Our Fathers being weary,
  Laid down on Bunker Hill;
And tho’ full many a morning,
  Yet they are sleeping still,—

The trumpet, sir, shall wake them,
  In dreams I see them rise,
Each with a solemn musket
  A marching to the skies!

A coward will remain, Sir,
  Until the fight is done;
But an immortal hero
  Will take his hat, and run!

Good bye, Sir, I am going;
  My country calleth me;
Allow me, Sir, at parting,
  To wipe my weeping e’e.

In token of our friendship
  Accept this “Bonnie Doon,”
And when the hand that plucked it
  Hath passed beyond the moon,

The memory of my ashes
  Will consolation be;
Then, farewell, Tuscarora,
  And farewell, Sir, to thee!
Colm Mar 2021
No heights can test
This smokey breath
Breathe out another jog and let

This heartbeat ache
Which throbs in pace
And patters like the dove and yet

To feel your feet
Guide underneath
Like oceans smooth with opal flow

Its warming breath
And pounding chest
This besting high you runners love
Vivamus ac procursu, Via
duck Jun 2019
Give me a thousand kisses.
I will not feel them.
Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then another thousand, then a second hundred.
I will not feel them.
Old men and their centuries of crooning lend me nothing.
My heart is still, my night endless,
my thirst eternal.
Images of rivers, lakes, oceans
quench my thirst like nothing else,
yet drinking is ever the more repulsive.
The brief light has set.
da mi basia mille.
I will not feel them.

— The End —