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I'm used to adversity and working really well in difficult situations. It was hard for me to accept the success.

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Bloved brother

The first born of the family
Brought happiness and prosperity
Even his name represents that
“Aklil” means “crown” in Tigrinya
He paid his life with no doubt
Stood for his people for his home land
Such a good brother and son
So young and a sweet one
Too unfair to be gone

How can I forget his smiley face
So cute and decent our family’s grace
Life has been too mean to you
Beloved brother I miss you

While Im obsess through sadness
Realize if it weren’t you and the others
Paid life and brought this peace
We wouldn’t live and blithe
Not even be able to breath
Beloved brother, we all are proud of you
Even though we crazily missing you

The short good times we shared
Is what I deeply engraved
And I always miss that
“Aklilu” your memory is in my heart

Never thought life could be that short
You deserve to live and it really hurt
My beloved “Aklil” this poem is for you
I wanted the whole world to know you
I love you and I really miss you! ! ! !

N.B I wrote this poem for my brother who martyrs at the war between Eritrea and Ethiopia On May 17 2000 at the age of 24 in a specific place named Adi-rakba




thank you for reading it

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Stalk Of Wheat

I went for a walk on a stalk, on a stalk of wheat
And it felt like a trillion feet
I was looking for a friend at the end, at the end of the line
And it took me till the end of time
I was all out of luck like a duck, like a duck that died
I was all out of juice like a moose, like a moose denied
I was all out of money like a bunny that's broke
I was all out of work like a jerk who's a joke
And I was out of ideas, like I is, like I is,
Like I is, like I is, I was out of ideas...of ideas
I once had a dream of a gleam, of a gleam in my eye
And I'll have it till the day I die
I had a thought bubble of trouble, of trouble and strife
And I'll have it for the rest of my life
I was all out of luck like a duck, like a duck that died
I was all out of juice like a moose, like a moose denied
I was all out of money like a bunny that's broke
I was all out of work like a jerk who's a joke
And I was out of ideas like I is, like I is,
Like I is, like I is, I was out of ideas...of ideas...of ideas...of ideas

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And Not Really Know

AND NOT REALLY KNOW

To my grave I will go
And not really know
Why I trying so much
Did not have
The real stuff.

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Lewis Carroll

Alice And The White Knight

Alice was walking beside the White Knight in Looking Glass Land.

'You are sad.' the Knight said in an anxious tone: 'let me sing you a song to comfort you.'

'Is it very long?' Alice asked, for she had heard a good deal of poetry that day.

'It's long.' said the Knight, 'but it's very, very beautiful. Everybody that hears me sing it -
either it brings tears to their eyes, or else -'

'Or else what?' said Alice, for the Knight had made a sudden pause.

'Or else it doesn't, you know. The name of the song is called 'Haddocks' Eyes.''

'Oh, that's the name of the song, is it?' Alice said, trying to feel interested.

'No, you don't understand,' the Knight said, looking a little vexed. 'That's what the name
is called. The name really is 'The Aged, Aged Man.''

'Then I ought to have said 'That's what the song is called'?' Alice corrected herself.

'No you oughtn't: that's another thing. The song is called 'Ways and Means' but that's only
what it's called, you know!'

'Well, what is the song then?' said Alice, who was by this time completely bewildered.

'I was coming to that,' the Knight said. 'The song really is 'A-sitting On a Gate': and the
tune's my own invention.'

So saying, he stopped his horse and let the reins fall on its neck: then slowly beating time
with one hand, and with a faint smile lighting up his gentle, foolish face, he began:

I'll tell thee everything I can;
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged, aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.
'Who are you, aged man?' I said,
' And how is it you live?'
And his answer trickled through my head
like water through a sieve.

He said 'I look for butterflies
That sleep among the wheat:
I make them into mutton pies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men,' he said,
'Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread -
A trifle if you please.'

But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one's whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
That they could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
To what the old man said,
I cried, 'Come tell me how you live!'
And thumped him on the head.

His accents mild took up the tale:
He said, 'I go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
I set it in a blaze;
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rowland's Macassar Oil -
Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
They give me for my toil.'


But I was thinking of a way
To feed one's self on batter,
And so go on from day to day
Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side
Until his face was blue:
'Come tell me how you live,' I cried,
'And what it is you do!'

He said 'I hunt for haddocks' eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold
Or coin of silvery shine,
But for a copper halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.

'I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
Or set limed twigs for crabs;
I sometimes search for grassy knolls
For wheels of hansom-cabs.
And that's the way' (he gave a wink)
'By which I get my wealth -
And very gladly will I drink
Your Honour's noble health.'

I heard him then, for I had just
Completed my design
To keep the Menai Bridge from rust
By boiling it in wine.
I thanked him much for telling me
The way he got his wealth,
But chiefly for the wish that he
Might drink my noble health.

And now if e'er by chance I put
My fingers into glue,
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
Into a left-hand shoe,
Or if I drop upon my toe
A very heavy weight,
I weep, for it reminds me so
Of that old man I used to know -
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was very like a crow,
With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his woe,
Who rocked his body to and fro,
And muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth were full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffalo -
That summer evening long ago
A-sitting on a gate.


As the Knight sang the last words of the ballad, he gathered up the reins, and turned his horse's head along the road by which they had come.

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Homer

The Odyssey: Book 24

Then Mercury of Cyllene summoned the ghosts of the suitors, and in
his hand he held the fair golden wand with which he seals men's eyes
in sleep or wakes them just as he pleases; with this he roused the
ghosts and led them, while they followed whining and gibbering
behind him. As bats fly squealing in the hollow of some great cave,
when one of them has fallen out of the cluster in which they hang,
even so did the ghosts whine and squeal as Mercury the healer of
sorrow led them down into the dark abode of death. When they had
passed the waters of Oceanus and the rock Leucas, they came to the
gates of the sun and the land of dreams, whereon they reached the
meadow of asphodel where dwell the souls and shadows of them that
can labour no more.
Here they found the ghost of Achilles son of Peleus, with those of
Patroclus, Antilochus, and Ajax, who was the finest and handsomest man
of all the Danaans after the son of Peleus himself.
They gathered round the ghost of the son of Peleus, and the ghost of
Agamemnon joined them, sorrowing bitterly. Round him were gathered
also the ghosts of those who had perished with him in the house of
Aeisthus; and the ghost of Achilles spoke first.
"Son of Atreus," it said, "we used to say that Jove had loved you
better from first to last than any other hero, for you were captain
over many and brave men, when we were all fighting together before
Troy; yet the hand of death, which no mortal can escape, was laid upon
you all too early. Better for you had you fallen at Troy in the
hey-day of your renown, for the Achaeans would have built a mound over
your ashes, and your son would have been heir to your good name,
whereas it has now been your lot to come to a most miserable end."
"Happy son of Peleus," answered the ghost of Agamemnon, "for
having died at Troy far from Argos, while the bravest of the Trojans
and the Achaeans fell round you fighting for your body. There you
lay in the whirling clouds of dust, all huge and hugely, heedless
now of your chivalry. We fought the whole of the livelong day, nor
should we ever have left off if Jove had not sent a hurricane to
stay us. Then, when we had borne you to the ships out of the fray,
we laid you on your bed and cleansed your fair skin with warm water
and with ointments. The Danaans tore their hair and wept bitterly
round about you. Your mother, when she heard, came with her immortal
nymphs from out of the sea, and the sound of a great wailing went
forth over the waters so that the Achaeans quaked for fear. They would
have fled panic-stricken to their ships had not wise old Nestor
whose counsel was ever truest checked them saying, 'Hold, Argives, fly
not sons of the Achaeans, this is his mother coming from the sea
with her immortal nymphs to view the body of her son.'
"Thus he spoke, and the Achaeans feared no more. The daughters of
the old man of the sea stood round you weeping bitterly, and clothed
you in immortal raiment. The nine muses also came and lifted up
their sweet voices in lament- calling and answering one another; there
was not an Argive but wept for pity of the dirge they chaunted. Days
and nights seven and ten we mourned you, mortals and immortals, but on
the eighteenth day we gave you to the flames, and many a fat sheep
with many an ox did we slay in sacrifice around you. You were burnt in
raiment of the gods, with rich resins and with honey, while heroes,
horse and foot, clashed their armour round the pile as you were
burning, with the tramp as of a great multitude. But when the flames
of heaven had done their work, we gathered your white bones at
daybreak and laid them in ointments and in pure wine. Your mother
brought us a golden vase to hold them- gift of Bacchus, and work of
Vulcan himself; in this we mingled your bleached bones with those of
Patroclus who had gone before you, and separate we enclosed also those
of Antilochus, who had been closer to you than any other of your
comrades now that Patroclus was no more.
"Over these the host of the Argives built a noble tomb, on a point
jutting out over the open Hellespont, that it might be seen from far
out upon the sea by those now living and by them that shall be born
hereafter. Your mother begged prizes from the gods, and offered them
to be contended for by the noblest of the Achaeans. You must have been
present at the funeral of many a hero, when the young men gird
themselves and make ready to contend for prizes on the death of some
great chieftain, but you never saw such prizes as silver-footed Thetis
offered in your honour; for the gods loved you well. Thus even in
death your fame, Achilles, has not been lost, and your name lives
evermore among all mankind. But as for me, what solace had I when
the days of my fighting were done? For Jove willed my destruction on
my return, by the hands of Aegisthus and those of my wicked wife."
Thus did they converse, and presently Mercury came up to them with
the ghosts of the suitors who had been killed by Ulysses. The ghosts
of Agamemnon and Achilles were astonished at seeing them, and went
up to them at once. The ghost of Agamemnon recognized Amphimedon son
of Melaneus, who lived in Ithaca and had been his host, so it began to
talk to him.
"Amphimedon," it said, "what has happened to all you fine young men-
all of an age too- that you are come down here under the ground? One
could pick no finer body of men from any city. Did Neptune raise his
winds and waves against you when you were at sea, or did your
enemies make an end of you on the mainland when you were
cattle-lifting or sheep-stealing, or while fighting in defence of
their wives and city? Answer my question, for I have been your
guest. Do you not remember how I came to your house with Menelaus,
to persuade Ulysses to join us with his ships against Troy? It was a
whole month ere we could resume our voyage, for we had hard work to
persuade Ulysses to come with us."
And the ghost of Amphimedon answered, "Agamemnon, son of Atreus,
king of men, I remember everything that you have said, and will tell
you fully and accurately about the way in which our end was brought
about. Ulysses had been long gone, and we were courting his wife,
who did not say point blank that she would not marry, nor yet bring
matters to an end, for she meant to compass our destruction: this,
then, was the trick she played us. She set up a great tambour frame in
her room and began to work on an enormous piece of fine needlework.
'Sweethearts,' said she, 'Ulysses is indeed dead, still, do not
press me to marry again immediately; wait- for I would not have my
skill in needlework perish unrecorded- till I have completed a pall
for the hero Laertes, against the time when death shall take him. He
is very rich, and the women of the place will talk if he is laid out
without a pall.' This is what she said, and we assented; whereupon
we could see her working upon her great web all day long, but at night
she would unpick the stitches again by torchlight. She fooled us in
this way for three years without our finding it out, but as time
wore on and she was now in her fourth year, in the waning of moons and
many days had been accomplished, one of her maids who knew what she
was doing told us, and we caught her in the act of undoing her work,
so she had to finish it whether she would or no; and when she showed
us the robe she had made, after she had had it washed, its splendour
was as that of the sun or moon.
"Then some malicious god conveyed Ulysses to the upland farm where
his swineherd lives. Thither presently came also his son, returning
from a voyage to Pylos, and the two came to the town when they had
hatched their plot for our destruction. Telemachus came first, and
then after him, accompanied by the swineherd, came Ulysses, clad in
rags and leaning on a staff as though he were some miserable old
beggar. He came so unexpectedly that none of us knew him, not even the
older ones among us, and we reviled him and threw things at him. He
endured both being struck and insulted without a word, though he was
in his own house; but when the will of Aegis-bearing Jove inspired
him, he and Telemachus took the armour and hid it in an inner chamber,
bolting the doors behind them. Then he cunningly made his wife offer
his bow and a quantity of iron to be contended for by us ill-fated
suitors; and this was the beginning of our end, for not one of us
could string the bow- nor nearly do so. When it was about to reach the
hands of Ulysses, we all of us shouted out that it should not be given
him, no matter what he might say, but Telemachus insisted on his
having it. When he had got it in his hands he strung it with ease
and sent his arrow through the iron. Then he stood on the floor of the
cloister and poured his arrows on the ground, glaring fiercely about
him. First he killed Antinous, and then, aiming straight before him,
he let fly his deadly darts and they fell thick on one another. It was
plain that some one of the gods was helping them, for they fell upon
us with might and main throughout the cloisters, and there was a
hideous sound of groaning as our brains were being battered in, and
the ground seethed with our blood. This, Agamemnon, is how we came
by our end, and our bodies are lying still un-cared for in the house
of Ulysses, for our friends at home do not yet know what has happened,
so that they cannot lay us out and wash the black blood from our
wounds, making moan over us according to the offices due to the
departed."
"Happy Ulysses, son of Laertes," replied the ghost of Agamemnon,
"you are indeed blessed in the possession of a wife endowed with
such rare excellence of understanding, and so faithful to her wedded
lord as Penelope the daughter of Icarius. The fame, therefore, of
her virtue shall never die, and the immortals shall compose a song
that shall be welcome to all mankind in honour of the constancy of
Penelope. How far otherwise was the wickedness of the daughter of
Tyndareus who killed her lawful husband; her song shall be hateful
among men, for she has brought disgrace on all womankind even on the
good ones."
Thus did they converse in the house of Hades deep down within the
bowels of the earth. Meanwhile Ulysses and the others passed out of
the town and soon reached the fair and well-tilled farm of Laertes,
which he had reclaimed with infinite labour. Here was his house,
with a lean-to running all round it, where the slaves who worked for
him slept and sat and ate, while inside the house there was an old
Sicel woman, who looked after him in this his country-farm. When
Ulysses got there, he said to his son and to the other two:
"Go to the house, and kill the best pig that you can find for
dinner. Meanwhile I want to see whether my father will know me, or
fail to recognize me after so long an absence."
He then took off his armour and gave it to Eumaeus and Philoetius,
who went straight on to the house, while he turned off into the
vineyard to make trial of his father. As he went down into the great
orchard, he did not see Dolius, nor any of his sons nor of the other
bondsmen, for they were all gathering thorns to make a fence for the
vineyard, at the place where the old man had told them; he therefore
found his father alone, hoeing a vine. He had on a dirty old shirt,
patched and very shabby; his legs were bound round with thongs of
oxhide to save him from the brambles, and he also wore sleeves of
leather; he had a goat skin cap on his head, and was looking very
woe-begone. When Ulysses saw him so worn, so old and full of sorrow,
he stood still under a tall pear tree and began to weep. He doubted
whether to embrace him, kiss him, and tell him all about his having
come home, or whether he should first question him and see what he
would say. In the end he deemed it best to be crafty with him, so in
this mind he went up to his father, who was bending down and digging
about a plant.
"I see, sir," said Ulysses, "that you are an excellent gardener-
what pains you take with it, to be sure. There is not a single
plant, not a fig tree, vine, olive, pear, nor flower bed, but bears
the trace of your attention. I trust, however, that you will not be
offended if I say that you take better care of your garden than of
yourself. You are old, unsavoury, and very meanly clad. It cannot be
because you are idle that your master takes such poor care of you,
indeed your face and figure have nothing of the slave about them,
and proclaim you of noble birth. I should have said that you were
one of those who should wash well, eat well, and lie soft at night
as old men have a right to do; but tell me, and tell me true, whose
bondman are you, and in whose garden are you working? Tell me also
about another matter. Is this place that I have come to really Ithaca?
I met a man just now who said so, but he was a dull fellow, and had
not the patience to hear my story out when I was asking him about an
old friend of mine, whether he was still living, or was already dead
and in the house of Hades. Believe me when I tell you that this man
came to my house once when I was in my own country and never yet did
any stranger come to me whom I liked better. He said that his family
came from Ithaca and that his father was Laertes, son of Arceisius.
I received him hospitably, making him welcome to all the abundance
of my house, and when he went away I gave him all customary
presents. I gave him seven talents of fine gold, and a cup of solid
silver with flowers chased upon it. I gave him twelve light cloaks,
and as many pieces of tapestry; I also gave him twelve cloaks of
single fold, twelve rugs, twelve fair mantles, and an equal number
of shirts. To all this I added four good looking women skilled in
all useful arts, and I let him take his choice."
His father shed tears and answered, "Sir, you have indeed come to
the country that you have named, but it is fallen into the hands of
wicked people. All this wealth of presents has been given to no
purpose. If you could have found your friend here alive in Ithaca,
he would have entertained you hospitably and would have required
your presents amply when you left him- as would have been only right
considering what you have already given him. But tell me, and tell
me true, how many years is it since you entertained this guest- my
unhappy son, as ever was? Alas! He has perished far from his own
country; the fishes of the sea have eaten him, or he has fallen a prey
to the birds and wild beasts of some continent. Neither his mother,
nor I his father, who were his parents, could throw our arms about him
and wrap him in his shroud, nor could his excellent and richly dowered
wife Penelope bewail her husband as was natural upon his death bed,
and close his eyes according to the offices due to the departed. But
now, tell me truly for I want to know. Who and whence are you- tell me
of your town and parents? Where is the ship lying that has brought you
and your men to Ithaca? Or were you a passenger on some other man's
ship, and those who brought you here have gone on their way and left
you?"
"I will tell you everything," answered Ulysses, "quite truly. I come
from Alybas, where I have a fine house. I am son of king Apheidas, who
is the son of Polypemon. My own name is Eperitus; heaven drove me
off my course as I was leaving Sicania, and I have been carried here
against my will. As for my ship it is lying over yonder, off the
open country outside the town, and this is the fifth year since
Ulysses left my country. Poor fellow, yet the omens were good for
him when he left me. The birds all flew on our right hands, and both
he and I rejoiced to see them as we parted, for we had every hope that
we should have another friendly meeting and exchange presents."
A dark cloud of sorrow fell upon Laertes as he listened. He filled
both hands with the dust from off the ground and poured it over his
grey head, groaning heavily as he did so. The heart of Ulysses was
touched, and his nostrils quivered as he looked upon his father;
then he sprang towards him, flung his arms about him and kissed him,
saying, "I am he, father, about whom you are asking- I have returned
after having been away for twenty years. But cease your sighing and
lamentation- we have no time to lose, for I should tell you that I
have been killing the suitors in my house, to punish them for their
insolence and crimes."
"If you really are my son Ulysses," replied Laertes, "and have
come back again, you must give me such manifest proof of your identity
as shall convince me."
"First observe this scar," answered Ulysses, "which I got from a
boar's tusk when I was hunting on Mount Parnassus. You and my mother
had sent me to Autolycus, my mother's father, to receive the
presents which when he was over here he had promised to give me.
Furthermore I will point out to you the trees in the vineyard which
you gave me, and I asked you all about them as I followed you round
the garden. We went over them all, and you told me their names and
what they all were. You gave me thirteen pear trees, ten apple
trees, and forty fig trees; you also said you would give me fifty rows
of vines; there was corn planted between each row, and they yield
grapes of every kind when the heat of heaven has been laid heavy
upon them."
Laertes' strength failed him when he heard the convincing proofs
which his son had given him. He threw his arms about him, and
Ulysses had to support him, or he would have gone off into a swoon;
but as soon as he came to, and was beginning to recover his senses, he
said, "O father Jove, then you gods are still in Olympus after all, if
the suitors have really been punished for their insolence and folly.
Nevertheless, I am much afraid that I shall have all the townspeople
of Ithaca up here directly, and they will be sending messengers
everywhere throughout the cities of the Cephallenians."
Ulysses answered, "Take heart and do not trouble yourself about
that, but let us go into the house hard by your garden. I have already
told Telemachus, Philoetius, and Eumaeus to go on there and get dinner
ready as soon as possible."
Thus conversing the two made their way towards the house. When
they got there they found Telemachus with the stockman and the
swineherd cutting up meat and mixing wine with water. Then the old
Sicel woman took Laertes inside and washed him and anointed him with
oil. She put him on a good cloak, and Minerva came up to him and
gave him a more imposing presence, making him taller and stouter
than before. When he came back his son was surprised to see him
looking so like an immortal, and said to him, "My dear father, some
one of the gods has been making you much taller and better-looking."
Laertes answered, "Would, by Father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo,
that I were the man I was when I ruled among the Cephallenians, and
took Nericum, that strong fortress on the foreland. If I were still
what I then was and had been in our house yesterday with my armour on,
I should have been able to stand by you and help you against the
suitors. I should have killed a great many of them, and you would have
rejoiced to see it."
Thus did they converse; but the others, when they had finished their
work and the feast was ready, left off working, and took each his
proper place on the benches and seats. Then they began eating; by
and by old Dolius and his sons left their work and came up, for
their mother, the Sicel woman who looked after Laertes now that he was
growing old, had been to fetch them. When they saw Ulysses and were
certain it was he, they stood there lost in astonishment; but
Ulysses scolded them good-naturedly and said, "Sit down to your
dinner, old man, and never mind about your surprise; we have been
wanting to begin for some time and have been waiting for you."
Then Dolius put out both his hands and went up to Ulysses. "Sir,"
said he, seizing his master's hand and kissing it at the wrist, "we
have long been wishing you home: and now heaven has restored you to us
after we had given up hoping. All hail, therefore, and may the gods
prosper you. But tell me, does Penelope already know of your return,
or shall we send some one to tell her?"
"Old man," answered Ulysses, "she knows already, so you need not
trouble about that." On this he took his seat, and the sons of
Dolius gathered round Ulysses to give him greeting and embrace him one
after the other; then they took their seats in due order near Dolius
their father.
While they were thus busy getting their dinner ready, Rumour went
round the town, and noised abroad the terrible fate that had
befallen the suitors; as soon, therefore, as the people heard of it
they gathered from every quarter, groaning and hooting before the
house of Ulysses. They took the dead away, buried every man his own,
and put the bodies of those who came from elsewhere on board the
fishing vessels, for the fishermen to take each of them to his own
place. They then met angrily in the place of assembly, and when they
were got together Eupeithes rose to speak. He was overwhelmed with
grief for the death of his son Antinous, who had been the first man
killed by Ulysses, so he said, weeping bitterly, "My friend, this
man has done the Achaeans great wrong. He took many of our best men
away with him in his fleet, and he has lost both ships and men; now,
moreover, on his return he has been killing all the foremost men among
the Cephallenians. Let us be up and doing before he can get away to
Pylos or to Elis where the Epeans rule, or we shall be ashamed of
ourselves for ever afterwards. It will be an everlasting disgrace to
us if we do not avenge the murder of our sons and brothers. For my own
part I should have no mote pleasure in life, but had rather die at
once. Let us be up, then, and after them, before they can cross over
to the mainland."
He wept as he spoke and every one pitied him. But Medon and the bard
Phemius had now woke up, and came to them from the house of Ulysses.
Every one was astonished at seeing them, but they stood in the
middle of the assembly, and Medon said, "Hear me, men of Ithaca.
Ulysses did not do these things against the will of heaven. I myself
saw an immortal god take the form of Mentor and stand beside him. This
god appeared, now in front of him encouraging him, and now going
furiously about the court and attacking the suitors whereon they
fell thick on one another."
On this pale fear laid hold of them, and old Halitherses, son of
Mastor, rose to speak, for he was the only man among them who knew
both past and future; so he spoke to them plainly and in all
honesty, saying,
"Men of Ithaca, it is all your own fault that things have turned out
as they have; you would not listen to me, nor yet to Mentor, when we
bade you check the folly of your sons who were doing much wrong in the
wantonness of their hearts- wasting the substance and dishonouring the
wife of a chieftain who they thought would not return. Now, however,
let it be as I say, and do as I tell you. Do not go out against
Ulysses, or you may find that you have been drawing down evil on
your own heads."
This was what he said, and more than half raised a loud shout, and
at once left the assembly. But the rest stayed where they were, for
the speech of Halitherses displeased them, and they sided with
Eupeithes; they therefore hurried off for their armour, and when
they had armed themselves, they met together in front of the city, and
Eupeithes led them on in their folly. He thought he was going to
avenge the murder of his son, whereas in truth he was never to return,
but was himself to perish in his attempt.
Then Minerva said to Jove, "Father, son of Saturn, king of kings,
answer me this question- What do you propose to do? Will you set
them fighting still further, or will you make peace between them?"
And Jove answered, "My child, why should you ask me? Was it not by
your own arrangement that Ulysses came home and took his revenge
upon the suitors? Do whatever you like, but I will tell you what I
think will be most reasonable arrangement. Now that Ulysses is
revenged, let them swear to a solemn covenant, in virtue of which he
shall continue to rule, while we cause the others to forgive and
forget the massacre of their sons and brothers. Let them then all
become friends as heretofore, and let peace and plenty reign."
This was what Minerva was already eager to bring about, so down
she darted from off the topmost summits of Olympus.
Now when Laertes and the others had done dinner, Ulysses began by
saying, "Some of you go out and see if they are not getting close up
to us." So one of Dolius's sons went as he was bid. Standing on the
threshold he could see them all quite near, and said to Ulysses, "Here
they are, let us put on our armour at once."
They put on their armour as fast as they could- that is to say
Ulysses, his three men, and the six sons of Dolius. Laertes also and
Dolius did the same- warriors by necessity in spite of their grey
hair. When they had all put on their armour, they opened the gate
and sallied forth, Ulysses leading the way.
Then Jove's daughter Minerva came up to them, having assumed the
form and voice of Mentor. Ulysses was glad when he saw her, and said
to his son Telemachus, "Telemachus, now that are about to fight in
an engagement, which will show every man's mettle, be sure not to
disgrace your ancestors, who were eminent for their strength and
courage all the world over."
"You say truly, my dear father," answered Telemachus, "and you shall
see, if you will, that I am in no mind to disgrace your family."
Laertes was delighted when he heard this. "Good heavens, he
exclaimed, "what a day I am enjoying: I do indeed rejoice at it. My
son and grandson are vying with one another in the matter of valour."
On this Minerva came close up to him and said, "Son of Arceisius-
best friend I have in the world- pray to the blue-eyed damsel, and
to Jove her father; then poise your spear and hurl it."
As she spoke she infused fresh vigour into him, and when he had
prayed to her he poised his spear and hurled it. He hit Eupeithes'
helmet, and the spear went right through it, for the helmet stayed
it not, and his armour rang rattling round him as he fell heavily to
the ground. Meantime Ulysses and his son fell the front line of the
foe and smote them with their swords and spears; indeed, they would
have killed every one of them, and prevented them from ever getting
home again, only Minerva raised her voice aloud, and made every one
pause. "Men of Ithaca," she cried, cease this dreadful war, and settle
the matter at once without further bloodshed."
On this pale fear seized every one; they were so frightened that
their arms dropped from their hands and fell upon the ground at the
sound of the goddess's voice, and they fled back to the city for their
lives. But Ulysses gave a great cry, and gathering himself together
swooped down like a soaring eagle. Then the son of Saturn sent a
thunderbolt of fire that fell just in front of Minerva, so she said to
Ulysses, "Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, stop this warful strife, or
Jove will be angry with you."
Thus spoke Minerva, and Ulysses obeyed her gladly. Then Minerva
assumed the form and voice of Mentor, and presently made a covenant of
peace between the two contending parties.

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Fair And Square

i was there for
a tour
enjoying the place
taking notes
and buying some stuff

she was there
looking for work
an opening
holding on to her
last money

but i do not really think that
i am lucky

it's all fair.
and i do not have to tell her
what despair
am i in

perhaps mine is bigger.
i can tell it.

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Beneath the Stairs

After you left us
You came back
You found me crying
Beneath the stairs
Of your house, what used to be before?
But I have to wonder
Whether you really looked behind what was
Beneath the stairs
Because when you found me crying
I was crying just for you
For your life, your old life
That you used to love
And now I worry once more
About what you saw when you looked
Beneath the stairs
If you felt what my heart thought had happened
When you were here, you understood everything
You were always by my side
But then you said those fatal words-
I can’t stay here anymore”

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It Does Not Matter Anymore

one gets used to it

a bland food one gets used
to blandness and it does not
matter anymore whether bland is
bland or not

one suffers the tastelessness
of routine like a road without a bend
where mountains are there and they
are there without anymore significance
to you whether they cast shadows or not
whether they are tall or leveled
whether they can obstruct or they
can make you pass through

if there is a wall you stop
and you cannot pass you turn around
and find another path

it does not really matter
whether it is a lie or truth
what matters most is
this journey that you are taking
and that soon it must be over

without destruction without hurting
those who must remain
those who are still holding their
wineglasses to wait for another cheer

how many years more? it does not matter.

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Slaughtered And Butchered

I will not live to die to justify your greed.
With an oath and promise to climb out of this pit.
If only for a little bit.
The sentimental value of being free.
Doing as you please.
Responsibility all your own.
Caution is a given.
No one to protect.
Love so so absent, and yet.
A love for the world and all that's around me.
As I move so emotionless, I still move.
Not yet frozen that cold.
With a numbness I grab the icicles behold.
No pain, no apathy to those creatures sliver across the floor.
A actuality when it is not my fault.
Still I get blamed.
A question of where was I like I should have been their.
But for who, those who believe I'm a piece of meat to be continually used?
Slaughtered and butchered.
No mercy, no hesitation with heads hanging on the wall and there's money to be made.

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Future of the Country

Tears in the eyes,
Fear on the face,
I often see children working,
Roads being there workplace.

Unwillingly doing work,
By the fear of being scolded
Or beaten by their employers
I see children working for bread.

Messy hair, torn clothes,
Children walking bare feet
And working really hard
Not caring about the rain or heat.

Children doing all sorts of jobs
Including selling and begging.
I have also seen children
Cleaning cars for an earning.

I feel sorry for them.
I feel it is very unfair,
That people make children work
When they should take their care.

Children are delicate,
We must care for them.
For every child in the world
Is as precious as a gem.

At least thinking about the country,
We must stop child labour.
We must stop burdening the children
As they are the country's future.

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I Know Better Now

Some people always know the right thing to say.
I dont really think I was born that way.
And with the gift of charm, theyre well endowed.
I love to watch them float right through a crowd.
I used to think it took a giggly girl
To win some fame in this mixed around world.
But I know better now.
One day I met a man who showed me love.
There standing on his head was a snow white dove,
And he said, once I came down to this mire for you,
But Im the son of god; hes your father too.
It wasnt long before my new walk began.
Since I found jesus, my life is in his hands.
Now I have life; no one can take it from me,
And Ive a home above Im waiting to see.
Therere many rooms in the house of the lord.
Why dont you come along, and bring someone more?
I used to think it took a giggly girl
To win some fame in this mixed around world.
But I know better now.
I know better now.
I know better now.
I know better now.
I know better now.
I know better now.
I know better now.
I know better now.
I know, I know, I know,
I know better now!

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Might Just Take Your Life

(blackmore/coverdale/lord/paice)
I got more than I asked for,
There aint nothin I need.
I took all till I had more,
Im always takin the lead
Old man shakin dice down on the street,
Tryn to make a livin somehow
But Im really sure about gettin things sorted out
And Im gettin ready right now
You cant hold me,
I have told you
Might just take your life,
Might just take your life
Ive been called by many names
And all of them are bad
I can take it all the same,
Its all Ive ever had
Ive got somethin that you cant get
But one thing you can see
Gettin there aint easy
But it sure was hard for me
You cant hold me,
I have told you
Might just take your life,
Might just take your life
Every time I take a look
Theres someone close behind
They never used to make a pass,
The things that crossed their minds
Now they tell me that its all right
And they want to be my friend
Theyre ridin on my back
When is it goin to end?
You cant hold me,
I have told you
Might just take your life,
Might just take your life,
Might just take your life
Got more than I asked for,
Got more than I need
Got more than I asked for,
Got more than I need
Got more than I asked for,
Got more than I need

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Might Just Take Your Life

I got more than I asked for,
There aint nothin I need.
I took all till I had more,
Im always takin the lead.
Old man shakin dice down on the street,
Tryn to make a livin somehow
But Im really sure about gettin things sorted out
And Im gettin ready right now.
You cant hold me,
I have told you.
Might just take your life,
Might just take your life.
Ive been called by many names
And all of them are bad.
I can take it all the same,
Its all Ive ever had.
Ive got somethin that you cant get
But one thing you can see:
Gettin there aint easy
But it sure was hard for me.
You cant hold me,
I have told you.
Might just take your life,
Might just take your life.
Every time I take a look
Theres someone close behind.
They never used to make a pass,
The things that crossed their minds.
Now they tell me that its all right
And they want to be my friend.
Theyre ridin on my back.
When is it goin to end?
You cant hold me,
I have told you.
Might just take your life,
Might just take your life,
Might just take your life.
Got more than I asked for,
Got more than I need.
Got more than I asked for,
Got more than I need.
Got more than I asked for,
Got more than I need.
- ritchie blackmore, david coverdale, jon lord & ian paice

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Re: Vacant Manager’s Position

22nd October 2009

The Chairman
Mr. Steve Gibson
Middlesbrough F.C.
Riverside Stadium
Middlesbrough TS3 6RS

Re: Vacant Manager’s Position

Dear Mr. Gibson
I would like to apply for Manager’s position in your club,
Im not a football celebrity but that should be no reason for a snub.
Im never been a manager at any level, not even the pub,
I know nothing about football, some pundits and fans
Would argue, I will be in good company and should be the man.

Gorden Strachan may be the favourite for Boro’s hot-seat
But the signing is not complete,
In 2009, the year of belt tightening, to be discreet,
I’ll work for a quarter of Southagte’s wage.
Honest Im not saying it to rattle your cage!

Wasted money on expansive contracts, I can save
By hiring overseas interrogator
Used by MI5 and C.I.A as translator,
Although some times they us questionable methods
They have proved to be excellent mediator.

Im used to pain and working under pressure,
I’ve been married twice and have six children
My older children still call me the thresher.

My appointment as manager
Would Win! Win! Win! Win! Win!
For all,

I hope you’ll agree that Im the best candidate.
‘Or even quite a catch! ’ ha, ha, ha.
Yours Sincerely

Khadim Hussain

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When Your Sins Come Home to Roost

When you fear the barber’s mirror when you go to get a crop,
Or in sorrow every morning comb your hair across the top:
When you titivate and do the little things you never used
It is close upon the season when your sins come home to roost.

Many were the sins of others and you never were to blame,
Some were sins you shared in common—you must suffer all the same;
Some were sins of wasted hours with the wine cup or a mate,
But you cannot share the burden—and they come in duplicate.

Oh! you’ll find the fowls are heavy and their claws are sharp and deep—
They will bow your head in working, they will jerk you from your sleep,
And so many hands are eager just to give your back a boost
On the road to wreck and ruin when your sins come home to roost.

But you don’t let on they’re roosting and you take some only way,
And you never whine or guzzle and you neither curse nor pray;
You will never for an instant let your lower lip be loosed—
But you stand up like a soldier when your sins come home to roost!

And you’ll find them growing lighter till you find room for a few
Of the sins of other mortals who have weaker souls than you:
Then you’ll smile, and not too sadly, at old sins reintroduced—
And you’ll be a man in many when your sins come home to roost.

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Everyone Here Is Working Hard For You

Do you realize how many poems I've seen,
That you have written?

'No!
How many have you actually 'read'? '

Comeon...
You are not aware of this at all?
I read a few but not all.

'I am aware that I am a writer.
Not an accountant.
Nor someone who sets limits,
To achieve a final goal.
Or someone seeking to impress.

Each day presents its own personality.
I'm learnig to appreciate quality and not quantity.
There is something about life I more understand each day.
My personal awareness of 'that' is what I keep addressed.'

Oh...
So what is that?
If you don't mind me asking?

'I know I am not alone...
Even though I perceive I am on my own!
I hear voices clearly say to me,
Everyone here is working hard for you.
That you must believe.'

I see.
And that makes you produce quality you don't notice?
An involvement you keep distanced?

'I did not say I didn't notice the quality.
Painfully that's done.
I don't put my sights on 'quantity'.
I don't want to overwhelm.
As much as I choose to stun!
And that takes paying attention to everyone! '

Like the voices heard in your head?

'You see...
You're trying to take this somewhere else.
And what you are 'attempting' to imply...
I'm not wasting any more of my time to listen to!
Read more than you do.
And if there is any comprehension to communicate,
You need not announce that to me! '

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Out of the Blue A Patch of Green

-****Rousseau alleged to have used
a pallette of a hundred and some-odd
different greens
in one painting********
-------------------------

There was an empty table
Next to mine
She walked by dressed in green
Holding her coffee she took a spare chair
Then sat down her back to me

She got my attention
My guess was
She was not
Encouraging nor
Expecting company

After the green hit me
Came the pleasent smell
Over the roasting coffee
It was like in the cartoons
When the drawing of the scent

Comes under the guy's nose
Lifts him off his seat
He floats acrosss the room
Led by his nose
By the visable wafts

Who knows what scent it was
I suppose there are some
Who can tell and know its name
All I knew
It was pulling on me

Back to the green in the chair
Darker green at the seams
Slacks lighter green
Leather jacket and
Shoes both different green

Tail of a sweater
Below back of the jacket
Damn another darker green
I wish I had names
for all these greens

Ankles are barely showing
A light tan do they still call it hose
A beige I guess
Probably has a better
Brand name I also don't know

I'm writing this down
As fast as I can
I was working on other stuff
But this is too good to forget
Living in the moment observing

I was thinking
This green is going
To be gone soon
I'm almost out of writing paper
To describe anything more

My coffee's getting cold
What's she here for
To be seen
To just drink coffee
Pass the time until

I look up the green is gone
All I'm left with is
A cold cup of coffee
And this
For you to read

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My Dead Fathers Dignity

Grandparents met in Japan after the war
A secretary and a soldier
A wounded soldier
My other grandparents were from Iowa
Raised on farms
Dad was a soldier and went to Nam
He was wounded and received a purple heart
Mom was in nursing school
They met at the University of Minnesota
Dad used the GI bill
I have an older brother and sister
Mom died in a car accident when I was 17
Dad died of cancer in 2009
He was 60 years old
They dropped his health insurance
They foreclosed his house
He was wounded for his country
I was not into politics now I am
Everyone should have healthcare
Insurance companies shouldn’t rule
They shouldn’t set their own regulations
Oil companies should not be subsidized
The rich should be taxed
Unions should be strengthened
Wall Street executives should be in prison
The rich should pay on every dollar of social security
The rest of us under a hundred thousand did
Any company shipping jobs should be boycotted
Put their names in the paper
Protect social security
Get rid of laws saying companies are individuals
Don’t let small businesses have to pay healthcare
Get a national single payer system business will thrive
Strengthen the middle class and working people
Get rid of any politician in bed with money
Don’t let the press be controlled by corporations
Get rid of right-wingers that are cronies for the rich
Every kid should go to college not just the rich
Break up the pharmaceutical industries
Strengthen the minimum wage
Lets fight greed with all we have
Fight lobby dollars
Fight food industries make them take care of animals
Vote for your kid’s future and every real worker
Fight for your country to be more loving
I will fight for my dead fathers dignity

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Janice and You and the Spider

You stood
in the playground
of St Jude's school
which was really

the basement
of a bombed out house
which had been gutted
and the basement tarmaced

and the walls
were still there
where kids climbed up
and around

the thin ledge
when Janice
put her hands
over your eyes

and said
guess who?
and you put
your hands

into the pockets
of your short trousers
and said
Miss Murphy

or Miss Ashdown?
no
Janice said
it's me

and she removed
her hands
from over your eyes
and you turned around

and looked at her
and she had
her red beret on
and a pink scarf

around her neck
to keep out
the cold
you must

have known
it was me
she said
who else

would put their hands
over your eyes?
her eyes were bright
and you thought

you could see yourself
in them
as if they were small mirrors
Jupp might do

or maybe Carmody
you said smiling
she didn't smile back
but pulled her lips

tight in a line
then she took your hand
and pulled you
along the path

that led
to the school toilets
and pushed you
inside a cubicle

and shut the door
behind you both
and said
don't you love me?

there was a large spider
hanging from
the cistern chain
close to

her red beret
and it hung there
suspended
swaying back

and forth
and you said
of course I do
right down

to your white socks
but there's a spider
above your head
and she looked up

and screamed
and a voice
outside the door
asked

are you all right
in there?
Janice's eyes widened
and she watched

as the spider
moved up the chain
and she said
yes it's all right

Miss Murphy
just a small spider
and you stood there
next to Janice

wondering what
Miss Murphy
would say
if she saw you

and Janice
in the lavatory
together
and the voice said

ok as long
as you
are all right
and the footsteps

moved away
and Janice took
your hand in hers
and you sensed

how cold it was
slightly blue
and it was just
9 year old Janice

and the big spider
and 9 year old you.

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Till We Get The Healing Done

Down those old ancient streets
Down those old ancient roads
Baby there together we must go
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till youre satisfied with your life
Till youre satisfied with your life
Till youre satisfied with your life
And its running right, and its running right
Till you deal with the poison inside
Sometimes youve got to sit down and cry
When you deal with the poison inside
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till you feel the tingle up your spine
Till youre satisfied and youre mine
Till you feel a tingle up your spine
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till you live in the glory of the one
Till you live in the land of the sun
Till you feel like your life has just begun
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till we dwell in the house of the lord
Till you dont have to worry no more
Till you open a brand new world
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till it makes you feel alright
Till youre satisfied with your life
Till you know you live in the light
Till we get the healing done
Oh till we get the healing done
Till you look at the mountains every day
Till you wash all your troubles away
And you live right here in the day
Till we get the healing done
Oh till we get the healing done
Oh till its truth and its beauty and its grace
Till youve finally found your true place
Till you know your original face
Till we get the healing done
Oh child, till we get the healing done
Oh when everythings going right
Till youre satisfied with your life
Till youre living in the light
Till we get the healing done
Oh till we get the healing done
Oh when you feel it, when you feel it in your soul
Baby, and you really know
That you reap just what you sow
When we get the healing done
Oh till we get the healing done
Till you know that its working every time
Till you work it out in your mind
And you know it straight down the line
Till you get the healing done
Oh make no worry till we get the healing done
Oh we gonna go back, back to our favourite place
Oh look at it again
See it all through different eyes
When we get the healing done
Oh when we get the healing done
Oh were living for the grace of the lord
Baby feel so good about it all
Oh give thanks every day
Till we get the healing done
Oh till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Oh baby, baby till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Baby you got to stay
Till we get the healing done
If it takes to the break of day
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
You got to stay all night long
Till we get the healing done

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