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 Posted: Thu Sep 05, 2013 1:59 pm |  |
Because you are to me a song
I must not sing you over-long.
Because you are to me a prayer
I cannot say you everywhere.
Because you are to me a rose-
You will not stay when summer goes.
Langston Hughes
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irkallia
Guide
f--- you that's my fish and i'm having sex with it
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Posted: Thu Sep 05, 2013 2:09 pm | |
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Posted: Thu Sep 05, 2013 3:11 pm | |
| Quote: |
no one travels
along this way but I,
this autumn evening
--Basho |
| Quote: |
my life--
how much more of it remains
the night is brief
--Shiki |
This particular line from Dreamlessly
| Quote: |
they feel no terror
at not loving
or at not
being loved
--Bukowski |
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| I used to do drugs. I still do, but I used to, too | |
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Holmes
Dictator in Absentia
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Posted: Thu Sep 05, 2013 4:13 pm | |
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Posted: Thu Sep 05, 2013 4:24 pm | |
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Roadhawk
Registered
We lurk inside your brain, we hide inside your mind.
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Posted: Sat Sep 07, 2013 8:57 pm | |
Rab Burns, Caledonia's much beloved son! This is the opening couple of Soldiers Return, copied and pasted with the regional words left in, others can get a bit hard to work out without some guide.
When wild war's deadly blast was blawn,
And gentle peace returning,
Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,
And mony a widow mourning;
I left the lines and tented field,
Where lang I'd been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a' my wealth,
A poor and honest sodger.
A leal, light heart was in my breast,
My hand unstain'd wi' plunder;
And for fair Scotia hame again,
I cheery on did wander:
I thought upon the banks o' Coil,
I thought upon my Nancy,
I thought upon the witching smile
That caught my youthful fancy.
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Posted: Mon Oct 07, 2013 7:14 pm | |
With Halloween around the corner, I figure it's a good time to post this. Wrote this a few years back. Criticism welcome. 
| Quote: |
The Hallowking
Forth I ventured by night through the withering trees,
boldly spirited on by the autumnal breeze,
when the wood gave to meadow, silence to a thrum
pounded out by a distant, ethereal drum.
There a figure emerged, and how frightful his guise,
for his smile was uncanny, of umbra his eyes,
and yet mirthful his footfall, awash in the light
of a moon wrought in crimson this Halloween night.
He said, "I am the Master, the Hallowday lord,
of the field, of the furrow, the ripening gourd,
'neath the wail of the crow and her stygian throng
here I dance and I prance to the carrion song!"
Here he spun, there he strutted, cavorted and leapt,
and methinks had you been there, you'd surely have wept;
for the fowl choir did caw, to the flit of the wing
and the dance of the venerable Hallowking.
He said, "Will you come dance with me, child of the moon?
I must rest on the morrow, the dawn cometh soon;
stay thy journey, come dance, let us worship the night
and the hour of the harvest 'till morning's first light!"
So I joined in the revelry, taking his side
and went skipping and swaying and matching his stride;
in the dance I was lost, neither winded nor worn
marching on 'till the first of the light of the morn.
'twas at daybreak I found myself walking the track
whence I came, wondering if again I'd be back;
but the crow sits in silence, awaiting the drums
and a moon wrought in crimson when Hallowking comes! |
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ApocalypseCow
Registered
Bridge over the River Kawaii
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Posted: Mon May 05, 2014 1:13 pm | |
| e. e. cummings wrote: |
as freedom is a breakfastfood
or truth can live with right and wrong
or molehills are from mountains made
—long enough and just so long
will being pay the rent of seem
and genius please the talentgang
and water most encourage flame
as hatracks into peachtrees grow
or hopes dance best on bald men’s hair
and every finger is a toe
and any courage is a fear
—long enough and just so long
will the impure think all things pure
and hornets wail by children stung
or as the seeing are the blind
and robins never welcome spring
nor flatfolk prove their world is round
nor dingsters die at break of dong
and common’s rare and millstones float
—long enough and just so long
tomorrow will not be too late
worms are the words but joy’s the voice
down shall go which and up come who
breasts will be breasts thighs will be thighs
deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
—time is a tree(this life one leaf)
but love is the sky and i am for you
just so long and long enough
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