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Djuna Barnes

Time is a great conference planning our end, and youth is only the past putting a leg forward.

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[H]our Glass - 1899 - after Richard Seymour - The Hour Glass

Toon's climb, boon's dread, boom's rhyme soon sped,
life's little dream theme tale
dew's wed with glue wed to cue clue thread -
though seeming strong, so frail.

Till naught's in store to add to more,
Time's ebbing sands fall fast;
Fate syphons for_age metaphor,
forgotten mirage past.

Billed for arrears, filled, empty years,
emotions' vain commotion,
birth earthed blame's biers; berthed fame's career's
proverbial dropp in ocean.

With wave goodbye, grave severed tie
hung on some sunbeam stalling
beyond last sigh what stays? Vain cry,
culled empty echo calling.

Love lost, love won with one-to one,
true faithfulness through trust,
find once begun through time have run
to often turn rust dust.

Nor fears, nor tears, resist Time's shears,
nor all we hope and dream
remains, soon unstained mirror clears,
wipes slate of great, small, steam.

As variation on a theme
some karmic call, some mortal,
rum sliver stream glum shivers - gleam
in void, avoid death's portal.

What's life? ‘brief candle', shadow mocked,
from infant's first cry, chortle,
through code adopt to blocks unlock,
to last laugh coda shortfall.
For age or forage

The Hour Glass
Of hours to come and hours long sped
The never-ending tale
Hangs on a slender running thread -
So strong and yet so frail.

The less is added to the more,
The ebbing sands run fast;
Time drains the future's dwindling store
And gives it to the past.

Not all our tears and prayers, alas!
Not all we hope and dream
Shall e'er invert that measured glass
And turn the golden stream.
Richard Surgis Seymour

(28 August 2009)

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To One Who Pleaded For Candour In Love

HERE is the dim enchanted wood
Your face, a mystery divine,
But half revealed, half understood,
Appears the counterpart of mine.

Beyond the wood the daylight lies;
Cruel and hard, it lies in wait
To steal the magic from your eyes
And from your lips the thrill of fate.

Ah, stay with me a little while
Here, where the magic shadows rest,
Where all my world is in your smile
And all my heaven on your breast.

Ah no!--cling close, what need to move,
What need to advance or explore?
We came here blindly, led by love,
Who will not lead us any more.

Thank God that here we two have stood,
Thank God this shade was ours to win;
Time with his axe has marked our wood
And he will let the daylight in.

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We found a new religion

We had our own suite
at Alpine Heath
in one of the villas
of that great hotel
on our honeymoon

and it was only
you and me
and the big bed
in the room upstairs.

We didn’t even watch
DSTV, although we could
and we loved
every moment there.

At times we ate in the hotel
and I had fresh trout
and you loved roasted chicken

or made our own dinner
and had lots of champagne
and some white wine

and slices of bread and cheese
for our own communion
or holy union.

That winter had icy snow
(a first for you)
and what shelter did we find
in each other’s arms.

Sometimes we walked
up to the waterfall
jumping from rock to rock
where you swam naked
in the stream

and we began to dream
and started our own religion,
a new fundamentalist faith
believing in each other
and the magic
of bodies joining together.

We secluded our selves
and being remote
from everyone
played in the light and darkness
deep into the night.

Revival of body, spirit and soul
brought us to our knees in passion
and I believed in your love
experienced something
close to the divine
while you were truly mine.

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Our Visions Will Be Focused On the Same Course

The camera loves,
Their physical appearances.
Good looks with chiseled grins.
They are equally adored,
By both men and women.
And elected to restore...
All of Camelot.
And the sparkling imagined,
Behind the doors.
It's with image given and adored,
The people are expecting...
To return a greatness to its shores.

*...and, Senator Brightooth,
You have stated in your stunning, upset win...
As a Republican!
That you have ideas,
You've come to deliver to Washington.
How do you believe your 'effectiveness'
Can bring about trust and respect,
To a nation much in dire neglect.
With an implemented vision...
That has of yet,
Corrected the issues of hunger, poverty...
Job and homelessness? *

~Let me make this perfectly clear.
Our fiscal integrity is deplorable at best.
A corrupted greed that has fed a decadence...
Can not continue.
We can! And we will...
Deliver our best.~

What will that be that we can look forward to
That will be delivered? *

~An unintended acceleration,
Of misguided policies.
That must stop.
No more tick tocking of that divisive clock,
Will be tolerated on my watch.~

*Thank you!
And President Obama?
We understand your endorsement,
Of a more bipartisan working relationship...
With the new senator? *

We have made that absolutely clear.'

*What are your current ambitions?
And prioritized policies? *

'Let me make this perfectly clear.
Our fiscal integrity is deplorable at best.
A corrupted greed that has fed a decadence...
Can not continue.
We can! And we will...
Deliver our best.'

*I see!
These sound bites heard,
Are uniquely similar.
Will there be an initiation soon...
The people can expect to witness,
A positive change in their lives? *

~Of course! ~

*Sorry, Senator Brightooth.
That question was directed to President Obama.
President Obama?
Your response? *

'Of course!
And let me add...
Senator Brightooth and I,
Also have this in common as well.'

That would be...
What? *

'We are both blessed to have beautiful wives.
So I am without doubt,
Our dinner parties will be most enjoyed!
And we both can guarantee,
Our visions will be focused on the same course...
That will unite our efforts.
To produce and feed an agenda that is bipartisan.

No more tick tocking of that divisive clock,
Will be tolerated on my watch!

Love those lines.
May I use them at some point? *

No problem.
These braised beef tips are delicious.~

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Sonnet: When Death Strikes!

Another soul has left the planet Earth!
The ones we’ve known are disappearing fast;
Decades roll off like days and weeks since birth;
Death takes our near and dear ones to the past.

Emotions high take on bereaved earthlings;
Belov’d ones vanish quickly forever;
It does not matter if they be ev’n kings;
Death seizes souls both young and old ever.

Yet, some have led a holy life well-known;
Heaven rejoices when upright souls come;
Some others led a selfish life, their own;
Almighty’s mercy could deliver some.

Death scares and shocks the living ones again;
A warning gong puts some in Heaven’s lane.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-17-2006
dedicated in loving memory of (late) Thiru. C.S. Anthony, Cbe.,
who reached his heavenly abode today

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Sweet Illusions

Let me go I'm only letting you down
I 've got nothing to say to you now
I lose the feelings that are weighing me down
When I'm safe
It's turning morning all the birds sing
I'm not complicating anything
I'll have another then I'll go to bed
But I'll dream of you
Cause it's almost over
And it's almost gone
And I can feel the sweet illusion, coming
Sweet confusion, honey
Sweet illusion coming down
And I ain't got nothing but love for you now
You and I used to shine like a jewel
But times been nothing to us but cruel
So play it out and never played the fool
Cause you'll lose every time
We were nothing, we were only the past
Hard times like that don't last
I've been forgiven, I've been surpassed
By my heart
Have you?
Cause it's almost over
Yeah it's almost gone
And I can feel the Sweet Illusion coming
Sweet Confusion, honey
Sweet Illusion coming down
And I ain't got nothing but love for you
Love for you I can't use
And lonely nights multiplied by the blues
That I can't resolve
You never knew me but I did my best
I'm just lonely inside I guess
You gave me everything you really tried
If we were nothing and we're only the past
Then I'm just living in a dream I guess
A long black dream that takes me down the river to you
Where it's almost over
And we're almost gone
And I can feel the Sweet Illusion coming
Sweet Confusion, honey
Sweet Illusion coming down
And I ain't got nothing but love for you now

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Enigma Of Love

Voices shouting once again, walls shaking, doors breaking
These are fairytales gone bad like the brothers grimm
Screaming for help ‘HE'S GONNA KILL ME'
When did the hand of your lover
Hatch into paws of a beast
When did sweet kisses along your sides
Turn into broken ribs and blackened eyes
When did the redness from roses
Turn into bloody lips and broken noses
When did you turn from a hopeful bride
To a woman who cowers behind beaten down pride
When did whispering sweet nothings and pillow talk
Turn into dark nights of misery and mock
For all his cold words my dear, to keep you here
Are nothing but lies, to keep you hurting inside
When did the man who once posed as protector
choke and strike you with wrath of Hannibal hectar
All of the violence he craves to taste
Is much to bitter to let your life go to waste
His child in your belly, his hands upon your neck
He should grasp you with love, not leave you gasping for breath
The symphony of weeping rain
Is not the same as you crying in pain
When you look up and see stars, your head spinning
You shouldn't think your dying, you should feel like your living
When you look in the mirror, after his playful stints
You shouldn't be counting his fingerprints
When your wishing for tomorrow,
It should be in happiness, not out of sorrow
Your only going to get these feelings for so long
Its your choice to fall down or stand up and be strong
Don't be scared to get up and say ‘so long'
End results may be different, but in both your still gone
In sickness and health, til death til you part
Your already at the end, and this is only the start

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Rudyard Kipling


GOD gave all men all earth to love,
But since our hearts are small,
Ordained for each one spot should prove
Belovèd over all;
That, as He watched Creation’s birth,
So we, in godlike mood,
May of our love create our earth
And see that it is good.
So one shall Baltic pines content,
As one some Surrey glade,
Or one the palm-grove’s droned lament
Before Levuka’s Trade.
Each to his choice, and I rejoice
The lot has fallen to me
In a fair ground—in a fair ground—
Yea, Sussex by the sea!

No tender-hearted garden crowns,
No bosomed woods adorn
Our blunt, bow-headed, whale-backed Downs,
But gnarled and writhen thorn—
Bare slopes where chasing shadows skim,
And, through the gaps revealed,
Belt upon belt, the wooded, dim,
Blue goodness of the Weald.

Clean of officious fence or hedge,
Half-wild and wholly tame,
The wise turf cloaks the white cliff edge
As when the Romans came.
What sign of those that fought and died
At shift of sword and sword?
The barrow and the camp abide,
The sunlight and the sward.

Here leaps ashore the full Sou’west
All heavy-winged with brine,
Here lies above the folded crest
The Channel’s leaden line;
And here the sea-fogs lap and cling,
And here, each warning each,
The sheep-bells and the ship-bells ring
Along the hidden beach.

We have no waters to delight
Our broad and brookless vales—
Only the dewpond on the height
Unfed, that never fails—
Whereby no tattered herbage tells
Which way the season flies—
Only our close-bit thyme that smells
Like dawn in Paradise.

Here through the strong and shadeless days
The tinkling silence thrills;
Or little, lost, Down churches praise
The Lord who made the hills:
But here the Old Gods guard their round,
And, in her secret heart,
The heathen kingdom Wilfrid found
Dreams, as she dwells, apart.

Though all the rest were all my share,
With equal soul I’d see
Her nine-and-thirty sisters fair,
Yet none more fair than she.
Choose ye your need from Thames to Tweed,
And I will choose instead
Such lands as lie ’twixt Rake and Rye,
Black Down and Beachy Head.

I will go out against the sun
Where the rolled scarp retires,
And the Long Man of Wilmington
Looks naked toward the shires;
And east till doubling Rother crawls
To find the fickle tide,
By dry and sea-forgotten walls,
Our ports of stranded pride.

I will go north about the shaws
And the deep ghylls that breed
Huge oaks and old, the which we hold
No more than Sussex weed;
Or south where windy Piddinghoe’s
Begilded dolphin veers
And red beside wide-bankèd Ouse
Lie down our Sussex steers.

So to the land our hearts we give
Till the sure magic strike,
And Memory, Use, and Love make live
Us and our fields alike—
That deeper than our speech and thought,
Beyond our reason’s sway,
Clay of the pit whence we were wrought
Yearns to its fellow-clay.

God gives all men all earth to love,
But since man’s heart is small,
Ordains for each one spot shall prove
Beloved over all.
Each to his choice, and I rejoice
The lot has fallen to me
In a fair ground—in a fair ground—
Yea, Sussex by the sea!

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Our Father’s Business:


O CHRIST-CHILD, Everlasting, Holy One,
Sufferer of all the sorrow of this world,
Redeemer of the sin of all this world,
Who by Thy death brought'st life into this world,--
O Christ, hear us!

This, this is Thou. No idle painter's dream
Of aureoled, imaginary Christ,
Laden with attributes that make not God;
But Jesus, son of Mary; lowly, wise,
Obedient, subject unto parents, mild,
Meek--as the meek that shall inherit earth,
Pure--as the pure in heart that shall see God.

O infinitely human, yet divine!
Half clinging childlike to the mother found,
Yet half repelling--as the soft eyes say,
'How is it that ye sought me? Wist ye not
That I must be about my Father's business?'
As in the Temple's splendors mystical,
Earth's wisdom hearkening to the all-wise One,
Earth's closest love clasping the all-loving One,
He sees far off the vision of the cross,
The Christ-like glory and the Christ-like doom.

Messiah! Elder Brother, Priest and King,
The Son of God, and yet the woman's seed;
Enterer within the veil; Victor of death,
And made to us first fruits of them that sleep;
Saviour and Intercessor, Judge and Lord,--
All that we know of Thee, or knowing not
Love only, waiting till the perfect time
When we shall know even as we are known--
O Thou Child Jesus, Thou dost seem to say
By the soft silence of these heavenly eyes
(That rose out of the depths of nothingness
Upon this limner's reverent soul and hand)
We too should be about our father's business--
O Christ, hear us!

Have mercy on us, Jesus Christ, our Lord!
The cross Thou borest still is hard to bear;
And awful even to humblest follower
The little that Thou givest each to do

Of this Thy Father's business; whether it be
Temptation by the devil of the flesh,
Or long-linked years of lingering toil obscure,
Uncomforted, save by the solemn rests
On mountain-tops of solitary prayer;
Oft ending in the supreme sacrifice,
The putting off all garments of delight,
And taking sorrow's kingly crown of thorn,
In crucifixion of all self to Thee,
Who offeredst up Thyself for all the world.
O Christ, hear us!

Our Father's business:--unto us, as Thee,
The whole which this earth-life, this hand-breadth span
Out of our everlasting life that lies
Hidden with Thee in God, can ask or need.
Outweighing all that heap of petty woes--
To us a measure huge--which angels blow
Out of the balance of our total lot,
As zephyrs blow the winged dust away.

O Thou who wert the Child of Nazareth,
Make us see only this, and only Thee,
Who camest but to do thy Father's will,
And didst delight to do it. Take Thou then
Our bitterness of loss,--aspirings vain,
And anguishes of unfulfilled desire,

Our joys imperfect, our sublimed despairs,
Our hopes, our dreams, our wills, our loves, our all,
And cast them into the great crucible
In which the whole earth, slowly purified,
Runs molten, and shall run--the Will of God.
O Christ, hear us!
An Autumn Psalm For 1860
NO shadow o'er the silver sea,
That as in slumber heaves,
No cloud on the September sky,
No blight on any leaves,
As the reaper comes rejoicing,
Bringing in his sheaves.

Long, long and late the spring delayed,
And summer, dank with rain,
Hung trembling o'er her sunless fruit,
And her unripened grain;
And, like a weary, hopeless life,
Sobbed herself out in pain.

So the year laid her child to sleep,
Her beauty half expressed;
Then slowly, slowly cleared the skies,
And smoothed the seas to rest,
And raised the fields of yellowing corn
O'er Summer's buried breast;

Till Autumn counterfeited Spring,
With such a flush of flowers,
His fiery-tinctured garlands more
Than mocked the April bowers,
And airs as sweet as airs of June
Brought on the twilight hours.

O holy twilight, tender, calm!
O star above the sea!
O golden harvest, gathered in
With late solemnity,
And thankful joy for gifts nigh lost
Which yet so plenteous be;--

Although the rain-cloud wraps the hill,
And sudden swoop the leaves,
And the year nears his sacred end,
No eye weeps--no heart grieves:
For the reaper came rejoicing,
Bringing in his sheaves.

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Our Canal

To Colonel Goethals and the Other Laborers in the Canal Zone

In lazy laughing Panama—
O flutter of ribbon 'twixt the seas!—
The low-roofed houses lie afloat,
White foam-drift of the Caribbees.
Under lithe palms that fan the sky
Down in each drowsy plaza there,
Brown-footed girls go glancing by
With red hibiscus in their hair.
Low mountains, trailing veils of cloud,
In the two oceans dip their feet,
And hear the proud tides roaring loud
Where Andes with Sierras meet.
O Panama! O ribbon-twist
That ties the continents together,
Now East and West shall slip your tether
And keep their ancient tryst.

What are you doing here,
Young men, with your engines vast?
Sons of the pioneer
Who conquered wastes austere
And from ocean to ocean passed;
Sons of the men who made
Reaper and telegraph,
Steamer and aeroplane—
All the iron-handed things,
Swift feet and tongues and wings,
That would make the old gods laugh
For the bitter games they played
With the secrets they kept in vain:
What are you doing here,
Young men, with your dredges and drills
That level the ancient hills
Into a path for ships?
Open your eyes and lips—
What do you see and hear?

'Oh, we build you the world's last wonder,
The thing not made with hands.
Our steel beasts gnaw asunder
The locked and laboring lands.
We choke the torrent's rage,
And bid him his wrath assuage
By drowning the jungle deep.
In steel-locked chambers gray
We hold his floods at bay,
On wide blue lakes asleep.
Now shall the brave ships ride
Over the crouching hill
From eager tide to tide,
That so we may fulfil
The iron century's will;
That so our country, maker of tools sublime,
The nations may surprise
With this last gift of the grand old workman,
His prodigy powerful, delicate, sentient, wise,
Perfect in strange completeness, strong to obey,
Strong to compel the world along its way
And praise man's triumph in its mighty rhyme.'

But what are you doing here,
Young men, with your flags?—
With your glamour of joy severe
With your villages up the hill,
The screened little houses gay,
Where the good of all is the will
Of each in a grand new way?
Sons of the men who founded
New states in the wilds, to be
Garden and range unbounded
For young Democracy;
Sons of the heroes dear
Who fought for liberty,
What are you doing here?

'Look, it's the same old fight
Out of the dark to the light;
Never the end shall be
Till the last slave is free!
Here while we dig the Ditch
We would build you a perfect state,
Where service makes men great
And the great scorn to be rich;
Where each man has his place
And a measure more than his meed—.
A banner of joy to grace
The strength of the daily deed;
Where Disease, trapped in his lair
With Squalor and Want and Care,
Is slain with the poison fume
He loosed for the proud world's doom;
Where the Work is a marching song
Sung by us all together,
Bearing the race along
Through good and evil weather.
Oh tell them, shout it through the halls of time !—
When the Big Chief unrolls his glorious plan,
Draws hearts and hands together in perfect rhyme,
Nothing shall be impossible to Man!'

But what are you doing here,
Young men, with your gates?
With your bells and beacons clear
Where the hope of the whole world waits?
With your call across the seas
To the ships that circle afar,
To the nations that burn and freeze
Each under her separate star?
Who followed the Truth austere,
Of poets and prophets grave—
What are you doing here?

'Hush! we wait at the gate
Till the dream shall be the law.
He gave us our beacons and bells
Who first the vision saw,
And the fleets of the world in state
Shall follow his caravels.
Ghost-led, our ships shall sail
West to the ancient East.
Once more the quest of the Grail,
And the greatest shall be the least.
We shall circle the earth around
With peace like a garland fine;
The warring world shall be bound
With a girdle of love divine.
What build we from coast to coast?
It's a path for the Holy Ghost.
Oh Tomorrow and Yesterday
At its gate clasp hands, touch lips;
They shall send men forth in ships
To find the perfect way.

'All that was writ shall be fulfilled at last.
Come—till we round the circle, end the story.
The west-bound sun leads forward to the past
The thundering cruisers and the caravels.
Tomorrow you shall hear our song of glory
Rung in the chime of India's temple bells.'

O lazy laughing Panama!
O flutter of ribbon 'twixt the seas!
Pirate and king your colors wore
And stained with blood your golden keys.
Now what strange guest, on what mad quest,
Lifts up your trophy to the breeze!
O Panama, O ribbon-twist
That ties the continents together,
Now East and West shall slip your tether
And keep their ancient tryst.

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Where Does The Time Go

Oh what a time
What a warm an wonderous time
So sweet a shinning moment in the sun
Oh what a time
Was there ever such a time
Then suddenly it's done
The moment passes
Where, where does the time go
Must we let it end
Where,where does the time go
Gone to soon my friend
And where, where go the echo's
Of our laughte ringing the air
Oh where ever the time goes
I will see you there
Must we let it end
And where,where go the echo's
Of our laugther ringing the air
Oh where ever the time goes
I will see you there
I will see you there

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Time and Experience

I found the past in my present
I built the future on my past
I found the gift of today
When I thought about what
The future has to offer
Where is the wisdom in experience
If there is no folly in wisdom
What's the real meaning of death
If our spirits live forever
Times never change
But circumstances do
I'll let mystery play with the future
Surprises couple with the present
And experience mourn the past
Because sun always rises from the east
And each day always comes to an end
Experience is not chained to wisdom
Nor is folly tied to bad results
But to the circumstances that burden
Our past, present and future because
Time is always anxious for the future
Experience loves the present
And wisdom never divorces the past

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Eagle Eyes

The hours lag like dour tarantulas
Though the hands are moving
The fingers are crippled
The milk expires quickly
Why don’t moments of despair?
The vegetables keeping us alive rot rapidly
As if to escape the damnable earth which helped them blossom
So why can’t the would-be anniversary of a tragic romance end as quickly?
Why do we forge the hours on a decrepit dust clock?
For time does not exist and yet it is our cruel master
Sequestering happiness from the present and decaying romance in the past
In the miasmatic hovels where paladins wept and poets dreamed
I saw a god headed serpent with eagle eyes and reptilian formaldehyde skin
With great liquid estrogen oozing from her tainted lips like a Saturn lilac pistil
Dizzy cosmic reveries
All sound
All sound

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Man Sins Without an End!

The heart of man is evil to the core;
The mind of man sinfully does some more;
The mouth of man utters words unkind, sore;
The soul of man is full of sins of yore!

For long, we’ve sinned against our Lord, our God;
For long, His patience spared us from His rod;
We’ve failed to heed or do as per His Word;
How odd that man can’t stay pure in his thought!

Our sinful habits bring us curses great;
Our suffering and strife cannot abate;
This is but our making and not just fate;
The road to heaven’s narrow; So’s the Gate!

We must agree we disobey our Lord;
We’ve failed to keep the ten Commands He gave;
When misfortune then strikes, we rant and rave;
Man alienates from His one living God!

Why do those things that will displease the Lord?
Why sin endlessly, not fearing His rod?
We heeded not to prophets sent by God;
Man’s sinfulness and habits look so odd!

Repent and reconcile for time is short!
Our sinful habits, we must now abort;
Let grace of God cleanse every human heart;
With soul all pure, we must from earth depart.

The disasters we meet, may be from God,
Perhaps reminding man of all his sins;
We must then heed to every word of His’,
So that, we may partake eternal bliss!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-10-2009

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Every Time I Close My Eye

Everytime i,
Close my eyes
Listen girl,
I dont know where to start
But every word I say,
Is straight from the heart
Ive been so wrong
Never meant to hurt you
Oh girl, Im sorry
Of what I put you through
Girl Id do anything for one more chance
(one more chance)
I want you back again
(want you back again)
cuz everytime I close my eyes
I see your face
And I wonder
When you close your eyes
Do you think about me
Now that I realize,
I want you girl, and no other
Everytime I close my eyes,
Youre all that I see
You and I shared it all together
Each other, with all wed ever need (all we ever need)
I thought that you would stay,
With me forever
But it took for granted
The love you gave to me
I keep on trying, keep on trying
til the end, til the end
Baby I need you right here with me
I need you here
Girl Im going out of my mind
I miss you so much,
I dont know what to do (what to do)
Please stay
Its just a matter of time
til I feel your touch
til you let me come back to you
Think about you girl,
Every day and night Im in love
And it feels so right, Id never meant to hurt you
Or caused you pain
I was just callin up
In that lying game
But now those days are over
Ive changed our ways
And now Im counting the minute,
Im counting the days
til you let me come back
Till you let me start
To find a new way
To get back into your heart
Girl Id do anything for one more chance (one more chance)
cuz I want you, I want you back again

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Life's Progress

How gayly is at first begun
Our Life's uncertain Race!
Whilst yet that sprightly Morning Sun,
With which we just set out to run
Enlightens all the Place.

How smiling the World's Prospect lies
How tempting to go through !
Not Canaan to the Prophet's Eyes,
From Pisgah with a sweet Surprize,
Did more inviting shew.

How promising's the Book of Fate,
Till thoroughly understood!
Whilst partial Hopes such Lots create,
As may the youthful Fancy treat
With all that's Great and Good.

How soft the first Ideas prove,
Which wander through our Minds!
How full the Joys, how free the Love,
Which do's that early Season move;
As Flow'rs the Western Winds!

Our Sighs are then but Vernal Air;
But April–drops our Tears,
Which swiftly passing, all grows Fair,
Whilst Beauty compensates our Care,
And Youth each Vapour clears.

But oh! too soon, alas, we climb;
Scarce feeling we ascend
The gently rising Hill of Time,
From whence with Grief we see that Prime,
And all its Sweetness end.

The Die now cast, our Station known,
Fond Expectation past;
The Thorns, which former Days had sown,
To Crops of late Repentance grown,
Thro' which we toil at last.

Whilst ev'ry Care's a driving Harm,
That helps to bear us down;
Which faded Smiles no more can charm,
But ev'ry Tear's a Winter-Storm,
And ev'ry Look's a Frown.

Till with succeeding Ills opprest,
For Joys we hop'd to find;
By Age too, rumpl'd and undrest,
We gladly sinking down to rest,
Leave following Crouds behind.

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The Time Of Albion

Here comes the birth of a new dawn,
a time when every hopes can be look up.
A moment of divine transformation,
that will change the destiny of our generation.
A generation of great attribute,
where the fate of the world will be accepted without dispute.
A generation of people with good character,
whose theme will be ' THEY LIVED HAPPY EVER AFTER '.
A time when sound of war will be forgotten,
and where every sins will be forgiven.
A time of divine & everlasting peace,
were our joy and happiness will not be on lease.
A world full of happy citizen,
with enermous blessings from heaven.
A time when evil will be erradicated,
and every single good deed will be counted.
A time full of brotherly love,
from people who are as gentle as a dove.
A realm of unity amongs nations,
where people will have to live without segregation.
A time when people are shown care,
where they won't have to live their lives with fear.
A time when there will be a chance of a rebirth,
without walking through the path of death.
A time of equal rainfall and sunshine,
when every darkness will be outshine.
A generation of people connected by a single bond,
and euthesastic of a peaceful world beyound.
A time of heavenly bliss,
when every thing will not be done amiss.
A time when everybody will be seen as one,
when the battle for good will have been won.
It is only through the acceptance of God,
that this extraordinary generation can be applaud.
Through the repentance from our sins,
that's only when this amazing time can be seen.
If only we can trust and love God with our heart,
our hope for this unique world will not be torn apart.
For he alone can put this world in the palm of our hand,
and give ur a reassured and a peace of mind.

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The Traveller And The Farm-Maiden


CANST thou give, oh fair and matchless maiden,

'Neath the shadow of the lindens yonder,--

Where I'd fain one moment cease to wander,--
Food and drink to one so heavy laden?


Wouldst thou find refreshment, traveller weary,

Bread, ripe fruit and cream to meet thy wishes,--

None but Nature's plain and homely dishes,--
Near the spring may soothe thy wanderings dreary.


Dreams of old acquaintance now pass through me,

Ne'er-forgotten queen of hours of blisses.

Likenesses I've often found, but this is
One that quite a marvel seemeth to me!


Travellers often wonder beyond measure,

But their wonder soon see cause to smother;

Fair and dark are often like each other,
Both inspire the mind with equal pleasure.


Not now for the first time I surrender

To this form, in humble adoration;

It was brightest midst the constellation
In the hail adorn'd with festal splendour.


Be thou joyful that 'tis in my power

To complete thy strange and merry story!

Silks behind her, full of purple glory,
Floated, when thou saw'st her in that hour.


No, in truth, thou hast not sung it rightly!

Spirits may have told thee all about it;

Pearls and gems they spoke of, do not doubt it,--
By her gaze eclipsed,--it gleam'd so brightly!


This one thing I certainly collected:

That the fair one--(say nought, I entreat thee!)

Fondly hoping once again to meet thee,
Many a castle in the air erected.


By each wind I ceaselessly was driven,

Seeking gold and honour, too, to capture!

When my wand'rings end, then oh, what rapture,
If to find that form again 'tis given!


'Tis the daughter of the race now banish'd

That thou seest, not her likeness only;

Helen and her brother, glad though lonely,
Till this farm of their estate now vanish'd.


But the owner surely is not wanting

Of these plains, with ev'ry beauty teeming?

Verdant fields, broad meads, and pastures gleaming,
Gushing springs, all heav'nly and enchanting.


Thou must hunt the world through, wouldst thou find him!--

We have wealth enough in our possession,

And intend to purchase the succession,
When the good man leaves the world behind him.


I have learnt the owner's own condition,

And, fair maiden, thou indeed canst buy it;

But the cost is great, I won't deny it,--
Helen is the price,--with thy permission!


Did then fate and rank keep us asunder,

And must Love take this road, and no other?

Yonder comes my dear and trusty brother;
What will he say to it all, I wonder?

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The Ballad Of The Harp-Weaver

"Son," said my mother,
When I was knee-high,
"you've need of clothes to cover you,
and not a rag have I.

"There's nothing in the house
To make a boy breeches,
Nor shears to cut a cloth with,
Nor thread to take stitches.

"There's nothing in the house
But a loaf-end of rye,
And a harp with a woman's head
Nobody will buy,"
And she began to cry.

That was in the early fall.
When came the late fall,
"Son," she said, "the sight of you
Makes your mother's blood crawl,—

"Little skinny shoulder-blades
Sticking through your clothes!
And where you'll get a jacket from
God above knows.

"It's lucky for me, lad,
Your daddy's in the ground,
And can't see the way I let
His son go around!"
And she made a queer sound.

That was in the late fall.
When the winter came,
I'd not a pair of breeches
Nor a shirt to my name.

I couldn't go to school,
Or out of doors to play.
And all the other little boys
Passed our way.

"Son," said my mother,
"Come, climb into my lap,
And I'll chafe your little bones
While you take a nap."

And, oh, but we were silly
For half and hour or more,
Me with my long legs,
Dragging on the floor,

To a mother-goose rhyme!
Oh, but we were happy
For half an hour's time!

But there was I, a great boy,
And what would folks say
To hear my mother singing me
To sleep all day,
In such a daft way?

Men say the winter
Was bad that year;
Fuel was scarce,
And food was dear.

A wind with a wolf's head
Howled about our door,
And we burned up the chairs
And sat upon the floor.

All that was left us
Was a chair we couldn't break,
And the harp with a woman's head
Nobody would take,
For song or pity's sake.

The night before Christmas
I cried with cold,
I cried myself to sleep
Like a two-year old.

And in the deep night
I felt my mother rise,
And stare down upon me
With love in her eyes.

I saw my mother sitting
On the one good chair,
A light falling on her
From I couldn't tell where.

Looking nineteen,
And not a day older,
And the harp with a woman's head
Leaned against her shoulder.

Her thin fingers, moving
In the thin, tall strings,
Were weav-weav-weaving
Wonderful things.

Many bright threads,
From where I couldn't see,
Were running through the harp-strings

And gold threads whistling
Through my mother's hand.
I saw the web grow,
And the pattern expand.

She wove a child's jacket,
And when it was done
She laid it on the floor
And wove another one.

She wove a red cloak
So regal to see,
"She's made it for a king's son,"
I said, "and not for me."
But I knew it was for me.

She wove a pair of breeches
Quicker than that!
She wove a pair of boots
And a little cocked hat.

She wove a pair of mittens,
Shw wove a little blouse,
She wove all night
In the still, cold house.

She sang as she worked,
And the harp-strings spoke;
Her voice never faltered,
And the thread never broke,
And when I awoke,—

There sat my mother
With the harp against her shoulder,
Looking nineteeen,
And not a day older,

A smile about her lips,
And a light about her head,
And her hands in the harp-strings
Frozen dead.

And piled beside her
And toppling to the skies,
Were the clothes of a king's son,
Just my size.

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The Scythians

You are but millions. Our unnumbered nations
Are as the sands upon the sounding shore.
We are the Scythians! We are the slit-eyed Asians!
Try to wage war with us-you'll try no more!

You've had whole centuries. We-a single hour.
Like serfs obedient to their feudal lord,
We've held the shield between two hostile powers-
Old Europe and the barbarous Mongol horde.

Your ancient forge has hammered down the ages,
Drowning the distant avalanche's roar.
Messina, Lisbon-these, you thought, were pages
In some strange book of legendary lore.

Full centuries long you've watched our Eastern lands,
Fished for our pearls and bartered them for grain;
Made mockery of us, while you laid your plans
And oiled your cannon for the great campaign.

The hour has come. Doom wheels on beating wing.
Each day augments the old outrageous score.
Soon not a trace of dead nor living thing
Shall stand where once your Paestums flowered before.

O Ancient World, before your culture dies,
Whilst failing life within you breathes and sinks,
Pause and be wise, as Oedipus was wise,
And solve the age-old riddle of the Sphinx.

That Sphinx is Russia. Grieving and exulting,
And weeping black and bloody tears enough,
She stares at you, adoring and insulting,
With love that turns to hate, and hate-to love.

Yes, love! For you of Western lands and birth
No longer know the love our blood enjoys.
You have forgoten there's a love on Earth
That burns like fire and, like all fire, destroys.

We love cold Science passionately pursued;
The visionary fire of inspiration;
The salt of Gallic wit, so subtly shrewd,
And the grim genius of th German nation.

We know the hell of a Parisian street,
And Venice, cool in water and in stone;
The scent of lemons in the southern heat;
The fuming piles of soot-begrimed Cologne.

We love raw flesh, its color and its stench.
We love to taste it in our hungry maws.
Are we to blame then, if your ribs should crunch,
Fragile between our massive, gentle paws?

We know just how to play the cruel game
Of breaking in the most rebellious steeds;
And stubborn captive maids we also tame
And subjugate, to gratify our needs…

Come join us, then! Leave war and war's alarms,
And grasp the hand of peace and amity.
While still there's time, Comrades, lay down your arms!
Let us unite in true fraternity!

But if you spurn us, then we shall not mourn.
We too can reckon perfidy no crime,
And countless generations yet unborn
Shall curse your memory till the end of time.

We shall abandon Europe and her charm.
We shall resort to Scythian craft and guile.
Swift to the woods and forests we shall swarm,
And then look back, and smile our slit-eyed smile.

Away to the Urals, all! Quick, leave the land,
And clear the field for trial by blood and sword,
Where steel machines that have no soul must stand
And face the fury of the Mongol horde.

But we ourselves, henceforth, we shall not serve
As henchmen holding up the trusty shield.
We'll keep our distance and, slit-eyed, observe
The deadly conflict raging on the field.

We shall not stir, even though the frenzied Huns
Plunder the corpses of the slain in battle, drive
Their cattle into shrines, burn cities down,
And roast their white-skinned fellow men alive.

O ancient World, arise! For the last time
We call you to the ritual feast and fire
Of peace and brotherhood! For the last time
O hear the summons of the barbarian lyre!

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