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I pulled out of making movies in about '96 or '97.

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I Pulled Out My Shovel (Quatrain)

I Pulled Out My Shovel (Quatrain)

I pulled out my shovel
And dug a little hole
I dug even deeper
Trying to kill a mole

The digging was easy
The hole grew more and more
Then I thought to myself
I should have used my bore

I dug into the den
But the mole wasn't there
It was almost as if
It vanished in mid air

Then I saw a tunnel
It veered off to the right
So I thought to myself
I'd dig into the night

So I kept on digging
Until it petered out
Then I grew quite angry
So I had to shout

I never found that mole
But I did dig a hole
And filled it with a pole
Then formed a grassy knoll

Edwin Tanguma (10/4/2011)

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I think you get out of film school what you put into it. If you don't care about making movies, film school will do you no good.

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John Cusack

It seems to me that one thing people do over and over again is try to figure out how to get married, stay married, fall in love, how to rekindle all this stuff. It seems to me to be a pretty eternal theme so I don't know if you can get typecast from making movies about men relating to women. It seems to be what is going on on the planet a lot.

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Let Your Light Shine Out

Let your light shine out
make it big and bright
Let your light shine out
deep into the night.
Let Your Light Shine

Let your light shine out
for the whole world to see,
like a flower as pretty as can be.

Yes, let your light shine out
making it spread about
to every creature & everyone
making it a happier place under the sun.

Written by Sue Chevalier on August 3,1996

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New York City

Standing on the corner
Just me and yoko ono
We was waiting for jerry to land
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand
Singing, have a marijuana if you can
His name was david peel
And we found that he was real
He sang, the pope smokes dope every day
Up come a policeman shoved us up the street
Singing, power to the people today!
New york city...new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Well down to maxs kansas city
Got down the nitty gritty
With the elephants memory band
Laid something down
As the news spread around
About the plastic ono elephants memory band!
And we played some funky boogie
And laid some tutti frutti
Singing, long tall sallys a man.
Up come a preacherman trying to be a teacher
Singing, gods a red herring in drag!
New york city...new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
New york city...new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Well we did the staten island ferry
Making movies for the telly
Played the fillmore and apollo for freedom
Tried to shake our image
Just a cycling through the village
But found that we had left it back in london
Well nobody came to bug us
Hustle us or shove us
So we decided to make it our home
If the man wants to shove us out
We gonna jump and shout
The statue of liberty said, come!
New york city...new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
New york city...back in new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?

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This Goes Out (feat. Big Duke And Joe Blak)

(feat. Big Duke And Joe Blak)
This goes out to all them hustlers
Everybody out there making them ends meet
I ain't mad at'cha
JE y'all, this goes out to everybody
This goes out to you, this goes out to you
(This goes out)
This goes out to you, this goes out to you
(I'm telling you this goes out)
This goes out to you, this goes out to you
(This goes out, hey)
This goes out to you, this goes out to you
(Oh, oh, oh, oh)
Some people sleep five to a bed
Three at the feet, two at the top
So I can't really talk about how they should live
When I know in my heart if it came down to it
I'd be getting down the same as them
See Lord, tryna hustle must be something heaven sent
A lot of rent wouldn't be made without this trade
That we call hustlin'
This goes out to the cats on the corner
Stressin' and strugglin' just to get a dollar
I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something
Hold your head up cause they can't touch you
This goes out to the girls in the streets
Like going all out just so their kids can eat
Like I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something
Hold your head up cause they can't touch you
This goes out...
I used to be half between
Going all out and doings things that I know just wasn't right
And now I'm looking back
And I think just do it or never did something
But I can tell you that
I'd probably take a bullet in my head than leave my family unfed
And that's the way it is
This goes out to my homies, yeah
This goes out to the cats on the corner
Stressin' and strugglin' just to get a dollar
I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something
Hold your head up cause the

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The Bankrupt Peace-Maker

I opened the ink-well and smoke filled the room.
The smoke formed the giant frog-cat of my doom.
His web feet left dreadful slime tracks on the floor.
He had hammer and nails that he laid by the door.
He sprawled on the table, claw-hands in my hair.
He looked through my heart to the mud that was there.
Like a black-mailer hating his victim he spoke:
"When I see all your squirming I laugh till I choke
Singing of peace. Railing at battle.
Soothing a handful with saccharine prattle.
All the millions of earth have voted for fight.
You are voting for talk, with hands lily white."
He leaped to the floor, then grew seven feet high,
Beautiful, terrible, scorn in his eye:
The Devil Eternal, Apollo grown old,
With beard of bright silver and garments of gold.
"What will you do to end war for good?
Will you stand by the book-case, be nailed to the wood?"
I stretched out my arms. He drove the nails deep,
Silently, coolly. The house was asleep,
I hung for three years, forbidden to die.
I seemed but a shadow the servants passed by.
At the end of the time with hot irons he returned.
"The Quitter Sublime" on my bosom he burned.
As he seared me he hissed: "You are wearing away.
The good angels tell me you leave them today.
You want to come down from the nails in the door.
The victor must hang there three hundred years more.
If any prig-saint would outvote all mankind
He must use an immortally resolute mind.
Think what the saints of Benares endure,
Through infinite birthpangs their courage is sure.
Self-tortured, self-ruled, they build their powers high,
Until they are gods, overmaster the sky."
Then he pulled out the nails. He shouted "Come in."
To heal me there stepped in a lady of sin.
Her hand was in mine. We walked in the sun.
She said: "Now forget them, the Saxon and Hun.
You are dreary and aged and silly and weak.
Let us smell the sweet groves. Let the summertime speak."
We walked to the river. We swam there in state.
I was a serpent. She was my mate.
I forgot in the marsh, as I tumbled about,
That trial in my room, where I did not hold out.
Since I was a serpent, my mate seemed to me
As a mermaiden seems to a fisher at sea,
Or a whisky soaked girl to a whisky soaked king.
I woke. She had turned to a ravening thing
On the table — a buzzard with leperous head.
She tore up my rhymes and my drawings. She said:
"I am your own cheap bankrupt soul.
Will you die for the nations, making them whole?
We joy in the swamp and here we are gay.
Will you bring your fine peace to the nations today?"

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Goes Out

THIS GOES OUT
TO ALL THEM HUSTLERS
EVERYBODY OUT THERE
MAKING THEM ENDS MEET
I AIN扵 MAD AT扖HA
J.E. YALL
THIS GOES OUT TO EVERYBODY
THIS GOES OUT
THIS GOES OUT TO YA
THIS GOES OUT
I扢 TELLING YOU THIS GOES OUT
THIS GOES OUT TO YA
THIS GOES OUT TO YA
THIS GOES OUT
THIS GOES OUT TO YA
THIS GOES OUT TO YA
V1 SOME PEOPLE SLEEP FIVE TO A BED
THREE AT THE FEET
TWO AT THE TOP
SO REALLY CAN TALK
ABOUT HOW THEY SHOULD LIVE
WHEN I KNOW IN MY HEART
IF IT CAME DOWN TO IT
I BE GETTING DOWN
THE SAME AS THEM
SEE LORD
TRYNA HUSTLE
MUST BE SOMETHING
THAT WAS HEAVEN SENT
A LOT OF RENT
WOULDN BE PAID
WITHOUT THIS TRADE
THAT WE CALL HUSTLIN
YALL YALL
HOOK
THIS GOES OUT
TO THE KAT
ON THE CORNERS
STRESSIN AND STRUGGLING
JUST TO GET A DOLLAR
I AIN扵 MAD ATHA
GOTTA DO SOMEHTIN
HOLD YOUR HEAD UP
CAUSE THEY CAN扵 HURT扖HA
THIS GOES OUT TO THE GIRLS
ON THE STREET
THAT扴 GOIN ALL OUT
JUST SO THEY KIDS CAN EAT
AND I AIN扵 MAD AT扖HA
GOTTA DO SOMETHING
HOLD YOUR HEAD UP
CAUSE THEY CAN TOUCH YOU
V2 I USE TO BE
AT THE POINT
GOING OUT ON THE ROAD
DOING THINGS
THAT I KNOW
JUST WASN扵 RIGHT
AND I扢 NOW
I扢 LOOKING BACK
NO NOT AFRAID TO TELL IT NO
JUST I NEVER DID SAY IT
BUT I CAN TELL YOU THAT
I扗 RATHER TAKE A BULLET
IN MY HEAD
THAN LEAVE MYL FAMILY UNFED
AND THAT扴 THE WAY IT IS
THIS GOES OUT TO MY HOMIES
HOOK
THIS GOES OUT TO THE KATS
ONT THE CORNERS
STRESSIN AND STRUGGLIN
JUST TO GET A DOLLAR
I AIN扵 MAD AT扖HA
GOTTA DO SOMETHIN
HOLD YOUR HEAD UP
CAUSE THEY CAN扵 HURT扖HA
THIS GOES OUT TO THE GIRLS
ON THE STREET
THAT扴 GOIN ALL OUT
JUST SO THEY KIDS CAN EAT
AND I AIN扵 MAD AT扖HA
GOTTA DO SOMETHIN
HOLD YOUR HEAD UP
CAUSE THEY CAN扵 TOUCH YOU
TATU:
A YO
I WELCOME THE STRUGGLE
LIKE I WELCOME THE HUSTLE
FIND THE RIGHT ONE
TAKE IT AN BUBBLE
THAT扴 ON THE MUSCLE
I AIN扵 GIVEN IN
I扢 TRYING TO WIN
AND IF I GOTTA GET MY HANDS A LITTLE DIRTY
I扢 SORRY FOR SIN
BUT THE FAM DON UNDERSTAND
AIN扵 NO BREAD
SO BROTHA扴 HAVE TO LEARN TO BAKE TO MAKE BREAD
CHICKS USE THEY ASS TO SHAKE TO MAKE BREAD
BUT I AINt MAD AT cHA
SHAWTY KEEP THEM KIDS FED
DUKE:
THIS GOES OUT TO MY WHOLE 581CLIQUE
I OFTEN REMENISS
WHEN WE JUST DREAMED OF DIS
BIG CARS
FINE HOMES
GIRLS WITH NICE TONES
DIME PIECES
STANDING IN LINE TO SHOW US THE THONG
WENT FROM RIDING SIX DEEP
IN A LITTLE ASS JEEP
TO CADALIC TRUCKS
AND BENZS PROWLIN THE STREETS
WE GONE BALL TIL WE FALL
CAUSE WE FADING ALL
PUT YOUR GLASSES IN THE AIR
THIS GOES OUT YO YALL
HOOK
THIS GOES OUT
TO THE KAT扴
ON THE CORNERS
STRESSIN AND STRUGGLING
JUST TO GET A DOLLAR
I AIN扵 MAD AT扖HA
GOTTA DO SOMETHING
DOHLD YOUR HEAD UP
CAUSE THEY CAN扵 HURT扖HA
THIS GOES OUT TO THE GIRLS
ON THE STREET
THAT扴 GOIN ALL OUT
JUST SO THEY KIDS CAN EAT
AND I AIN扵 MAD AT扖HA
GOTTA DO SOMETHING
HOLD YOUR HEAD UP
CAUSE THEY CAN扵 TOUGH YOU

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Romeo And Juliet

Romeo and Juliet" was written by Mark Knopfler of Dire Straits, and
appears on that band's 1980 album, "Making Movies." Amy Ray has
performed it fairly regularly since at least 1987. It's always been
one of my favorite DS songs, and I was pretty floored when I first
heard Amy do it, so I once asked her about it. She claimed that she
was inspired to cover it after she saw Dire Straits on their
"Brothers in Arms" tour. She felt that the arrangement that they
were using for the tour really lacked the edge of the "Making Movies"
version, and she wanted to try to bring back that edge. Which she
does, because her stripped-down version is PURE edge. (Personally,
though, I LOVED the DS arrangement from the "Brothers in Arms" tour -
I like it better than the original, in fact.) Anyway... Amy tends
to improvise with this one a bit, so I just transcribed the lyrics
off of "Making Movies."
Romeo and Juliet.
A lovestruck Romeo sings the streets a serenade
Laying everybody low with a love song that he made
Finds a streetlight, steps out of the shade
Says something like "You and me, babe, how about it?"
Juliet says "Hey, it's Romeo! You nearly give me a heart attack!"
He's underneath the window,
She's singing "Hey-la, my boyfriend's back -
You shouldn't come around here singing up at people like that!
Anyway, whatcha gonna do about it?"
Juliet, the dice was loaded from the start
And I bet and you exploded into my heart
And I forget, I forget the movie song
When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?
We come up on different streets
They both were streets of shame
Both dirty, both mean
Yes, and the dream was just the same
And I dreamed your dream for you
And now your dream is real
How can you look at me as if I was just another one of your deals?
When you can fall for chains of silver
You can fall for chains of gold
You can fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold
You promised me everything - You promised me thick and thin, yeah
Now you just say "Oh, Romeo, yeah,
You know I used to have a scene with him."
Juliet, when we made love you used to cry
You said "I love you like the stars above, I'll love you till I die"
There's a place for us
You know the movie song
When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?
I can't do the talks like they talk on the TV
And I can't do a love song like the way its meant to be
I can't do everything but I'll do anything for you
I can't do anything except be in love with you
And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be
All I do is keep the beat to Bad Company
All I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme
Julie, I'd do the stars with you, anytime
Juliet, when we made love you used to cry
You said "I love you like the stars above, I'll love you till I die"
There's a place for us
You know the movie song
When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?
And a lovestruck Romeo, he sings the streets a serenade
Laying everybody low with a love song that he made
Finds a convenient streetlight, steps out of the shade
And says something like "You and me, babe, how 'bout it?
You and me, babe, how 'bout it

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New York City

Standing on the corner, just me and yoko ono,
We was waiting for jerry to land.
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand,
Singing, have a marijuana, if you can.
His name was david peel and we found that he was real,
He sang, the pope smokes dope evryday.
Up come a policeman, shoved us of the street,
Singing, power to the people today.
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Well, down to maxs, kansas city, got down the nitty gritty
With the elephants memory band.
Laid something down as the news spread around
About the plastic ono elephants memory band.
Well, we played some funky boogie, and laid some tutti fritti,
Singing, long tall sallys a man.
Up come a preacher man, tryin to be a teacher,
Singing, gods a red herring in drag!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Ha! ha!
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Hey!
Oh yeah!
Hey! new york city!
Alright, new york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Well, we did the staten island ferry, making movies for the telly,
Played the fillmore and apollo for freedom.
Tried to shake our image, just a-cycling through the village,
But we found that we had left it back in london.
Well, nobody came to bug us, hustle us or shove us,
We decided to make it our home.
If the man wants to shove us out, we gonna jump and shout,
The statue of liberty said, come!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Oh, new york!
Uh, uh, uh.
Well, new york, yeh,
Alright!
Oh, new york city!
Back in new york city!
Yeah, new york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Ass city!
Down in the village,
Yeah, what a city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Yeah, rock on!
Ow! uh!
Yeah!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! what a bad, bad city!
Bad-ass city!
Bad-ass city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey, city! city!
Another version
--------------------------------
Recorded live at the madison square garden, new york, n.y. 30 august 1972
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Two, three, four!
Standing on the corner, just me and yoko ono,
We was waiting for her hour to land,
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand,
Have marijuana if you can.
Well, his name was david peel
And we found that he was real,
The pope smokes dope evry day.
Up come the police, shoved us off the street,
Singing, power to the people today!
New york city!
Madison square garden!
Hey!
Whats happenin, man?
Went back to kansas city, laid down the nitty gritty
With the elephants memory band.
Laid something down as the news spread around
About the plastic ono elephants memory band.
Played some tutti frutti and played some funky boogie,
Long tall sallys a man!
Up come the preacherman, tryin to be a teacher,
Singing, gods a red herring in drag!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey!
Ow!
Ooh!
Well, new york city, babe!
New york!
New york city!
Yeah, new york city!
Down in the village!
New york city!
Come on, hit it!
Ah, what a bad ass city!
Yeah!
Roll over!

song performed by Yoko OnoReport problemRelated quotes
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New York City

Standing on the corner, just me and yoko ono,
We was waiting for jerry to land.
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand,
Singing, have a marijuana, if you can.
His name was david peel and we found that he was real,
He sang, the pope smokes dope evryday.
Up come a policeman, shoved us of the street,
Singing, power to the people today.
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Well, down to maxs, kansas city, got down the nitty gritty
With the elephants memory band.
Laid something down as the news spread around
About the plastic ono elephants memory band.
Well, we played some funky boogie, and laid some tutti fritti,
Singing, long tall sallys a man.
Up come a preacher man, tryin to be a teacher,
Singing, gods a red herring in drag!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Ha! ha!
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Hey!
Oh yeah!
Hey! new york city!
Alright, new york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Well, we did the staten island ferry, making movies for the telly,
Played the fillmore and apollo for freedom.
Tried to shake our image, just a-cycling through the village,
But we found that we had left it back in london.
Well, nobody came to bug us, hustle us or shove us,
We decided to make it our home.
If the man wants to shove us out, we gonna jump and shout,
The statue of liberty said, come!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Oh, new york!
Uh, uh, uh.
Well, new york, yeh,
Alright!
Oh, new york city!
Back in new york city!
Yeah, new york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Ass city!
Down in the village,
Yeah, what a city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Yeah, rock on!
Ow! uh!
Yeah!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! what a bad, bad city!
Bad-ass city!
Bad-ass city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey, city! city!
Another version
--------------------------------
Recorded live at the madison square garden, new york, n.y. 30 august 1972
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Two, three, four!
Standing on the corner, just me and yoko ono,
We was waiting for her hour to land,
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand,
Have marijuana if you can.
Well, his name was david peel
And we found that he was real,
The pope smokes dope evry day.
Up come the police, shoved us off the street,
Singing, power to the people today!
New york city!
Madison square garden!
Hey!
Whats happenin, man?
Went back to kansas city, laid down the nitty gritty
With the elephants memory band.
Laid something down as the news spread around
About the plastic ono elephants memory band.
Played some tutti frutti and played some funky boogie,
Long tall sallys a man!
Up come the preacherman, tryin to be a teacher,
Singing, gods a red herring in drag!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey!
Ow!
Ooh!
Well, new york city, babe!
New york!
New york city!
Yeah, new york city!
Down in the village!
New york city!
Come on, hit it!
Ah, what a bad ass city!
Yeah!
Roll over!

song performed by Yoko OnoReport problemRelated quotes
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Part 2 ~ Times Tables

The little girl felt sick at her stomach. She fought back the urge to vomit and cry as she lay in bed wondering where her mother was. The fear of what lay beneath her bed was not as urgent as the more immediate fear that her mother might not come back this time. Her younger brother was in the next room sleeping. He didn't seem too upset by the fact that their mother had disappeared two weeks earlier. He might have been worried but he wouldn't let it show, and they never talked about it. They both knew that their family was different. The word dysfunctional had not yet been coined to describe what life was like in the Taylor's home. How do you describe hell? All she knew was that they were the family all the neighbors on the quiet cul-de-sac whispered about, and that whenever she would go over to a friends house to play their parents would look at her with softness in their eyes. Her best friend Erin told her that everyone on their street could hear the fighting.

One times six is six, two times six is twelve, three times six is eighteen, four times six is twenty four…

The last time she had seen her mother she was screaming gibberish at the top of her lungs. She was spitting out words with so much force that they were unintelligible, the whites of her eyes making her look like a wild animal. The little girl didn't know why her mother was so angry at her dad, but she had gotten use to it being a common everyday occurrence. She had torn the telephone out the wall for the umpteenth time and was throwing dishes at him. When she ran out of dishes she reached into the freezer, pulled out the ice cube tray and began pelting him with ice cubes. All HE was doing was ducking behind the kitchen table, trying to reason with her to no avail. She commonly worked herself up into a lather over the most insignificant things while her father remained calm. If he had better judgment he would have put her into an institution where she belonged, but all he would do was wait patiently for the unpredictable storms to pass, hoping that he could somehow repair the damage. She never understood why.

Five times six is thirty, six times six is thirty six, seven times six is forty two, eight times six is forty eight…

When her mother slammed the front door behind her, the little girl went over her father to console him. One of the ice cubes had hit him on the head and it was bleeding. She wrapped her arms around his huge frame with tenderness. 'Daddy', it's alright. I love you.' she began to say when suddenly the loud sound of crashing metal and glass drew her attention outside. She went to the living room window and could see her mother screeching backwards out of the driveway in her car, then putting it in drive again to ram full throttle into the rear of his car for a second time. Then a third. What was she doing? That was a new car. One that she had insisted on having like a spoiled child. It wasn't even a week old and she had just demolished it, but somehow she was still able to drive off to wherever it was she was going.

Nine times six is fifty four, ten times six is sixty, eleven time six is sixty six, twelve times six is seventy two…

Alone in the stillness of her bedroom she began to wonder if maybe her mother had given herself an accidental concussion and was wandering around somewhere confused. Her father had gone out looking for her again tonight, asking Erin's mother to come over until he returned. It was getting late, but the little girl kept repeating her multiplication ritual, trying not to think about anything else. If she made a mistake she had to start over again from the beginning. It had to be perfect. She had gotten all the way up to her 10 tables now.

One hundred times one is one hundred, one hundred times two is two hundred, one hundred times three is three hundred…

In her minds eye, the sums began to take on a new shape. They turned into days, and then weeks, and then months until she became aware of the prospect that her mother might not back at all. She stopped multiplying and drifted off into the most deep and restful sleep that she had ever had.

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Patrick White

I'm Flying Under The Light

I'm flying under the light to avoid detection.
There. That's the first line. A cornerstone.
Maybe water, granite or quicksand
but the cosmic glain
is cracked open like a skull
to extract the message from the fortune-cookie.
The second line comes easier
though it hasn't come yet.
I'm waiting like a crematorium at the end of my cigarette.
Yes. Hot coffins for cool people.
Like it. Where's the rest?
A mirror looks into my face
and sees the enlightened folly of creation
is not the work of a clown.
Forgive the little arrogant flag of flame
I've been trying to raise
out of a nation of ashes
like an arsonist with noble aspirations.
I've looked up at too many stars over the years
not to see beyond my next breath
like a cloud of unknowing,
a road of ghosts,
into the sweeping clarity
of the silence and the darkness
that have unmarrowed me like a bone
to grow new organs of light, new senses,
new eyes and hearts and minds
that are free of the ferocities of night
that consume them death by death
in unextinguishable fire.
It's a mode of compassion
I can't get off my chest,
my way of venting with tears in my eyes
when I consider what becomes of us
who stood here once in the high starfields
alone in an opening between the groves
and gave our eyes back to the sky like water
that tasted of too much suffering
to be sweetened like an apple by grief
or provide us with a vision of relief
that floats better
than all these lifeboats of belief
we've overturned.
Time's refugees,
even in the donated tents of these bones,
flapping like skin in a desert wind,
only our homelessness is our own.
Like stars and dirt and leaves
we're swept off the stairs
across thresholds, out the door
and into the dustpans of our own eyes
whenever we think about putting down roots
and waking up beside our own boots
like bodies that walked all the way with us
to a known address and a bed
we didn't share with the dead.
Even when the moon is full and beautiful
I can hear the clacking castanets
of the crabs and the pebbles
rounded like skulls in the tides
of the untold myriads
that have come and gone like the sea.
To be so much and then nothing,
to be washed clean of everything you cherish
to watch the dyes run like blood and paint
or arsonists from autumn leaves
when your mind has lucked out
like a watercolour in the rain
and your brain unspools like mud.
Sometimes I think my awareness
is no more than the smear
of an incidental rainbow
on a distended bubble
whose inflation always
snaps back on itself in tears.
I prick myself on the thorn of a star
and let my eyes pop into vaster skies
and almost convince myself
that our bodies are crushed like grapes
to deepen the abyss of the wines
that bleed us into oblivion.
Or life is a dream without a dreamer,
fireflies in a well without an echo,
a magician so overcome by his own spell
there are doves flying out of his nostrils
and fish building nests in his brain like a tree
and yet he still can't conceive
of what he pulled out of his hat.
And fulfilment may well be the enlightened flower
of the ignorant roots of desire
like the truth in the mouth of a liar
but I'm not assuming I'm a vegetable
and who knows,
when you put it all together
from the earth and the light and the rain
into one brain
I might be nothing more
than just another kind of weather
trying to take shelter
in this makeshift eye of the storm.
But do you see what I mean?
There's no more continuity in being blind
than there is in looking into the face of God
and seeing the worlds within worlds
that seep like feelings into her thoughts
as if one world without a witness weren't enough.
Words stumble here like physics
before its singularity
and are left like bodies and shoes
on the myriad thresholds of hyperspace
where the worlds pour into each other
like a waterclock of salmon
returning to the source of it all
like the pulse of the sea to the call
of the voiceless bell that gives birth
to all the unimaginable generations of time
that have wounded the faceless mirrors of eternity
by breaking the silence and serenity
of the well that would not answer
by dropping in like eyes
that disappear in waves
washing out their own reflections.
Sometimes it seems as if
there are only two kinds of people in the world:
those that are going and those that have gone.
Where did they go?
Where are they coming from?
Are we the only strangers on the road
and our inhospitable purpose, this passing?
When she leaned on the windowsill
and cradled her head in her hands
to watch the summer clouds
her arms were cormorants of light
and she wore the window awry like a crown.
And the old Japanese man
with hair whiter than moonlight
who used to apologize to the weeds
he uprooted all morning long
in the whisper of a language
only he could understand
for making a distinction.
Where have they gone
where eyes can go and see and come back
across the threshold of their extinction,
mile zero of a road that leads
everywhere all at once
like any point in the infinite space
of the expanding universe?
Why must we leave
the mystic particulars of our lives
like shoes and bodies and names
at the opening door of our bootless generalities?
These fingertips were kissed by a mother
who strung them tenderly
like ten little birds
ten little arrows
to the lips of her bow.
Now that they've flown
can anyone follow
the light into the unknown
or lift their reflections from the waters,
their shadows from the gound
like breadcrumbs and fingertips
to say where they've gone
or even more impossibly
find out where we are now
so they can find their way back to us?
Or is all that we ever were and will be
irrevocably lost
like the root in the flower
that passes it by
on its way into the open
where its eyelids fall away?
When I fall away from myself
like a dropp of water
from the tongue of a leaf,
an unspoken word, a tear,
like rain on an autumn headstone
will the stone ripple
like the rings of a tree
to let you know
that the great sea of life
still jumps like a fish within me
to break through the immaculate
silence of the pond,
its undulant membrane of light,
like spring in the morning,
like a pulse of light beyond
the dark side of the mirror
that has never seen the moon,
that absorbs everything
like a cloak, or an oilslick,
an eclipse, a black hole
where things never appear,
to let you know I'm here. I'm here
where I have always been
where the joy of life transcends
its own thresholds of meaning
by parting its own waters
like the wake of a night passage
or the curtains of an open window
or a woman who opens her legs like a compass,
suffering her own felicity
to give birth to the shoreless sea,
dropp by drop,
you and me
each moment we live
where death hasn't laid down its threshold
and birth can't get through its own gate
because the concepts have left no living ancestry
in this empty world of now
where we live, where we
have always lived,
our elbows on the horizon
like two moons on a windowsill,
wondering, longing, dreaming,
a breath, a veil, a mist
as we evaporate
like visions off the lakes of our eyes
into the great abyss of our unknowing
like a nightstream that lives
blindly belonging
to what's going on, inexhaustibly.

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Patrick White

Going Through A Dark Time

Going through a dark time. Antares, the red ant,
the bitter berry in the heart of Scorpio. Why not
blame it on the stars? How could they deny it?
Living penumbrally in the eclipse of a celestial body.
I want to paint my first old rusty bike that I found
languishing under the neighbour's stairs, its
deflated tires, spider looms and jinxed prayer wheels
that hadn't turned for years, want to paint it
with model airplane enamels again and run
a perfect red stripe down the middle of a black fender
gleaming like anthracite in the blue-yellow sun.
How many worlds away I am from that pure moment.

Dark in my heart, gnawing on the skulls of dragons
that have finally become like the moon
that's never known rain, a frozen watershed
in a locket of ice and no light bulb in the well.
I'm striding down the corridors of a well-polished hell
and I'm turning the portraits of my heroes toward the wall.
Why not? I've got no use for their eyes anymore.
I've drained the lies out of the samples of their deaths.
I've chewed the flavour out of what it was they had to teach.
I've trashed my best features in dangerous neighbourhoods.
I've broken my own brain like bread with them,
offered them my blood like a rose with teeth
and watched them evaporate like stars in the sun
as if they never really knew they had my devotion.

What I made of them to set my own potential an example.
Something unattainable to aspire to
so I would be sure to lose as they did
preferring a brilliant failure to a mediocre triumph.
I think the quality of a human is a direct function
of the depth of their suffering. And I loved the ones
who cried out so beautifully in their agony
the night birds didn't dare lift their tiny voices
up again for fear of being put to shame
for the pettiness of their desire. Or the wolves
ever howl at the moon again without being aware
of the absurdity of their longing for an old stone.
I have danced barefoot on the splinters
of the winter chandeliers that brought the trees down
like a palace of tears in a brutal ice storm.
I've heard the Pleiades crash like silverware
all over the ground of a botched burglary
and seen the junkies run like collapsed veins
to pick the spoons up like fences and crows.
Going through a dark time. The shamans
are dying in the treetops from the shock
of what they had to see and live to be
if they wanted to die thoroughly back into life again,
apprenticed to their own foreseeable pain like savage healers.
Winged serpents angered by the humiliation of the flesh
like a rose too beautiful not to be abused
by those who desecrate life out of their own self-hatred
that they are possessed by what they despise the most
and beauty will have nothing to do with their power
that isn't forced, or broken, or garbaged.
The mirrors of the spirit freak and flake away
from the ideals of their silver lining in horror.

Funny how you can come to look upon
even the most passionate of loveletters
with the eyes of a three hundred million year old reptile
as if life could not be borne any other way than as a thorn
through the heart of a voodoo doll
that cursed the good in life for the passing of it.
What have I not buried in this desert of stars
as if one night I would be able to come back to it
and ask it what it dreamed of in my absence?
To see if the afterlife of a mirage tasted
like water, blood, or wine, or more real than death,
the tears of someone who had aged into understanding
when the windows that looked out on life
like a valence of silicon dioxide slow down
like glaciers of glass, and the mirrors speed up
as if they were running out of time for reflection.

Ask a man what he misses the most and listen to the echo
of how long it takes to reach his ears and if
there's an ocean in his eyes he drowns in
and I'll reintroduce you to someone you already know
talking to themselves in the dark to keep from going mad.
Who toys with the smiles of their approaching assassins
like the slash of a snake's mouth breaking into blossom?
Life is the puncture wound of the staple
that was meant to mend it like a bridge
that sat cross-legged on a lotus in meditation.
And it's easy enough to look at the fireflies after a storm
and the stars so out of touch with the world as it is
you long for the innocence of the childhood distances
you traversed every night you crawled out of your sleep
to approach the mystery of your own solitude
like an estranged familiar calling you to come alone
to the furthest extremes of the night and beyond.

Going through a dark time. Too many gates.
Too many doors. Too many worn thresholds
Too many threadbare carpets under the one-sided window.
Too many dead birds killed by a lack of transparency.
And still, I refuse the blindfold when I'm standing
in front of a firing squad of stars
armed with the latest telescopes.
I've always been one of those who prided myself
upon my strength to see it coming from afar off
and stare at my own death in the third eye of it.
And what monument could you possibly raise
befitting someone who made exile and rebellion
the two monolithic cornerstones of their life
if not a rogue planet beyond the reach of gravity
looking for a star they could thrive in the light of
without the slightest shadow of ulterior spontaneity?

Going through a dark time. I will not put my eyes out
by turning up the light on what befalls me,
as if there were something I could save myself from.
I will eat every detail of the pain and not waste
one unmarrowed bone of it. I will consume it whole
like a prophet in the belly of the whale, make the message
flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, and then
I'll spit it out like a bullet I pulled out of my heart
with my teeth, my soul, the elegance of my desolation.
I'll make key chains for the blind out of spite
and striate the rocks of this cold prison with the runes
of the horned ones who linger here with me.
I'll be a mile-high corrective lens of ice
and putting one hand over my third eye
I'll read the writing on the wall from memory
and renounce every sacred syllable of it like heretic
that thrives on fire, that scatters his ashes in triumph
and feathers the wind like a gnostic phoenix
with gospels of my own where there's not one imperative.

Pain demands my obedience, threatens to break me.
I smash myself on the rocks like an empty wine goblet
and say, you can break what remains. You can grind
me down to dust, if you like, you can step over me
like Spinoza lying down in the threshold of the synagogue
to atone for what he opened the world's eyes up to,
but my vision of life, though a squall of stars, remains my own
and the seeing isn't in my eyes, and the one who suffers
isn't in chains, nor the door locked on my heart
for fear of the night, for fear of turning to stone
when I look the snake pit in the eye with a microscope,
and observe the minutiae of the heart's addictive attention to detail.
Though every word be a thorn through my tongue,
Yet will I sing of the agony of lemons and roses
bleeding on the razorwire in No Man's Land for mercy,
and those compelled by the whips of circumstance
to dance themselves to death because it amuses the cripples,
and the little, amoebic man who never amounted to anything
and his wife who has aged like salt in a conquered city
still thinking she's a garden ornament, I will sing
in the name of what even the worst must endure,
just to set this methane moon afire in the darkness
like a furnace in an abandoned school of unregenerate clowns.

Going through a dark time. A rite of ordeals,
the brutal pit of the mystery you can break your teeth on
like a koan or an iron-nickel tektite in Antarctica
to get at the life inside your own panspermic mind.
I should happily break my flesh like bread upon the waters
for the fish and the birds, and save the life
of an unworthy man from drowning
like bad meat in a well, or lose
my own precarious foothold on the precipice of an abyss
that humbles me to the point of no return. I should do this
for the thought-trains of the birds that shall come after me
high and late at night through the bars of my longing,
yearning to return to my ancestral homelessness
like a wandering planet that doesn't give off any light of its own
but shines with life, despite the odds, shines
tenaciously with life through all these transformations
I take on like a river in its own running,
pouring myself out of one life wholly into another
like an igneous fireclock on the nightshift
that keeps adding more carbon to my steel.

Going through a dark time, I will not suffer
this passage passively like smoke, I will not plead
to abstract my senses from reality to deaden the pain
or thin my blood with holy water from a dirty fountain.
This dark child of my life shall not be an orphan.
I will not disown the pain, I will not drive
myself out into the wilderness like a scapegoat
to wash the soot off the temple I cry in
though they were my doves that were stained
in their own blood in the name of a useless sacrifice
to a unity that includes as much of separation
as of love that welds a stronger bond
that doesn't scar the spirit, or dull the eyes,
or deaden the tongue to the taste of the stars
on the lips of the people who pass through our lives
like thresholds on their way to somewhere else
than this palatial homelessness we dwell in alone
throwing boundary stones like asteroids through the mirrors
just to keep things abundantly clear and open between us.

Going through a dark time. Swimming through a tar pit.
Another doorway without an exit or an entrance.
Another keel-hauling on the hull of the moon
trying to maintain discipline aboard a shipwreck.
And the unbearable sadness that crushes your heart
like a pop can in the depths of an unrevealing ocean.
Your face is a skin graft on a burn victim.
People reach out for you, but only with their hands
when there's nothing at all, nothing at all to grasp
of what has already come and gone for good or bad,
who can tell? I'm centered like rain in my falling.
And there's something vaguely radioactive about the way
I glow in the dark, though there are dozens of dead fireflies
on my windowsill that dropped like exhausted stars.
I move into the available dimension of a future
that hasn't won my confidence, and the past
is the burnt foundation of a crack house in the zodiac
cooking rocks like a meteor shower with its radiant
in the eyes of everyone I meet who's trying to shoot the stars out.

Going through a dark time. A bardo state. Nirvanic doubt.
The new moon no brighter than the last eclipse.
I hear the disembodied thunder of my amplified heart
making its way toward me like an enlightened storm front.
I've always chosen the hardest teachers to ignore
and where the road divides, I've gone both ways at once
just to give my earthbound guides a chance of a wishbone
to find their way back on their own by following
the choices they made to get here like an avalanche.
I'm as effortless about my despair as I am about bliss.
I treat them both as if they were none of my business.
The birds and apples come to this rootless tree
of their own accord and the tree does not protest
the unleaving of an earthly excellence
that blossomed awhile in the human heart and was gone.
A windfall of loss. The dead flower frosted with winter stars
in a dream where the waterclocks are frozen in time
and this is perfect and that is perfect and if you take
perfect from perfect, it's still as perfect as it was then
and as it is now and shall be tomorrow.
I watch the moonrise without breathless aspirations.
I observe the sunset without lingering disappointments.
What I have received in joy, I will not deceive in sorrow.

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100 STD's 10,000 MTD's

There are STD's, sexually transmitted diseases.
and then there are MTD's, meat transmitted diseases.

The latter take a lot more lives.

*********

In Animal Flesh: Blood Sweat Tears as well as Carcinogens Cholesterol Colon Bacteria

Animal products kill more people annually in the US than
tobacco, alcohol, traffic accidents, war, domestic violence,
guns, and drugs combined. USAMRID wrote that consumption of pig flesh caused the world's most lethal pandemic in WW1,
euphemistically called flu. Anthrax
used to be called wool sorters'
disease. Smallpox used to be called
cow pox or kine pox because of
its origin in animal flesh.
.

WHAT'S IN A BURGER? BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS (AS WELL AS BIOTERRORISM)

POISONS IN ANIMAL AND FISH FLESH... A PARTIAL LIST


a partial list in alphabetical order

acidification diseases
addiction (to trioxypurines)
adrenalin (secreted by terrorized
animals before and during slaughter)

ANTIBIOTICS (too many to list) (crowded factory farm animals standing in their own feces are often infected)

BACTERIA
creiophilic bacteria survive
the freezing of animal flesh
thermophilic bacteria survive
the baking boiling and roasting

bacteriophages (viruses FDA allows to
be injected)
blood
colon bacteria.. euphemistically
called ecoli animals defecate
all over themselves in terror
John Harvey Kellogg MD studied
the exponential rate into the billions

BSE DISEASES, PRIONS IN SPECIES FROM GELATIN (JELLO ETC)
Mad Chicken
Mad Cow
Mad Deer
Mad Elk
Mad Fish in factory farms given bone meal from many species
Mad Pig
Mad Sheep

CARCINOGENS BY THOUSANDS
(concentrated at rates of 1000 to 1
to their presence in water)
. free radicals
. malanaldehyde created when animal fat and protein
are heated over 300 degrees
. methylcholanthrene '''
. microwave carcinogens are even more lethal


DISEASES THERE ARE THOUSANDS OF ZOONOTIC DISEASES.. see Diseases of Food Animals by Owen Parrett, MD
alcoholism (yang animal flesh and yin alcohol crave each other)
Alzheimer's (from cerebral artery
blockage by amyloid plaque and animal fat)
anaphylactic shock from shellfish etc.
anthrax (Wool Sorter's Disease)
appendicitis (no fiber flesh putrefies in intestinal tract)
blindness from animal fat in capillaries
brucellosis
cancers of many kinds
chicken pox
eggs flies deposit in open market animal flesh become maggots
food poisoning
gynecomastia (swelling of male
breasts which can lead to cancer)
heart attacks (animal fat, amyloid
plaque, uric acid, calcium deposits
block heart, cerebral, reproductive and all arteries)
hepatitis (coprophagous or wasteeating shellfish)
immune deficiency diseases (meat is a
corpse withbacteria, viruses, worms
impotence animal fat in penile arteries & capillaries
kidney dysfunction carnivores have 5 times human kidney size
per lb.
listeria
mononucleosis (a rare meat disease)
obesity Ivy league research found that vegans weigh 23 lbs
less than nonvegetarians in isocaloric studies
osteoporosis
paralysis.. (from uric acid build up
in the spine blocking nerves)
senility... animal fat, amyloid plaque and uric acid in cerebral
arteries and capillaries
smallpox (originally called kine pox)
sterility caused by high DDT etc in nonvegetarian sperm
strokes.. animal fat in cerebral arteries and capillaries
toxoplasmosis.. disease of uncooked
meat
tuberculosis in bulls, dairy cows, pigs, sheep etc.
referred to in The Jungle by Upton Sinclair and ever since
tularemia

feces of cows, flies etc.
FEMALE HORMONES
many varieties.. banned by EU
FOOD COLORINGS
red dye, many varieties
heterocyclic amines

gelatin from animal bones, hooves,
horns

INSECTICIDES BY HUNDREDS
ddt
dioxin
malathion (L Hill: the bigger the fish, the more little fish he's eaten)

lactic acid (in animals' muscles called
meat)

METALS
arsenic
cadmium
chromium
lead
mercury causes brain damage..
1000 times more concentrated
in fish flesh than sea water
tin etc.

mucus

OLD MEAT BREAKDOWN AGENTS]/b]
monosodium glutamate
POLLUTANTS
benzopyrene (from charcoal broiling)
pbb's
polychlorinated biphenols
PRESERVATIVES
sodium benzoate
RESIDUE IN ARTERIES
amyloid plaque.. byproduct
of animal protein causes senility
animal fat causes heart attacks
strokes aneurisms blindness
calcium excess.. crystallizes...
is visible as white deposits
trioxypurine.. pre urine or uric acid
crystallizes in needle formation

radiation poisoning
(from irradiation and
from nuclear waste)
sulfur poisoning
trichinella worms and many other kinds
of worms
trioxypurine.. pre-urine, uric acid.. causes arthritis and lines heart and all arteries
NOT IN MEAT OR FISH
no vitamin C
no natural fiber

Diseases of Food Animals by Owen
Parrett, MD lists some of the thousands
of zoonotic diseases (diseases which
can be transmitted by eating animal
or fish flesh)
NIH lists only 246 of the carcinogens
in the environment and food


I INTRINSIC IN ALL ANIMAL FLESH
. THE BLOOD is called juice after its chemical nature changes from
cooking.
. SWEAT OR PRE URINE OR URIC ACID or trixoypurine.. more addictive
than caffein (dioxypurine) . It is the primary cause of arthritis and
rigidity as it crystallizes into needles jabbing the joints. Uric
acid would have been eliminated by the animal's muscle cells had she
not been butchered. Carnivores have 5 times the kidney size
per pound of body weight.
. THE FECES poured out by terrorized animals has traces of ecoli or
colon bacteria.. not only their own waste but that of other cows on
which they often slip as they are being skinned alive at Iowa Beef
Processors or other sites. Dr. John Harvey Kellogg, affiliated in the
last century with Kellogg cereals found that after a few hours ecoli
(colon or intestinal bacteria) can multiply into the billions. As
trillions
of gallons of fecal matter are dumped into the waterways,
ecoli or colon bacteria based infections are coming to
vegetarians as well as nonvegetarians. The proximity of swinging
hanging cadavers causes ecoli and other diseases to be transmitted
to other cadavers.

SENILITY (AND STERILITY)
. ALzheimer's Disease is caused by ALcohol, cooking with ALuminum,
and the amyloid plaque in ALl animal protein,
amyloid plaque which builds up
in the brain interfering with function. (Mercury destruction
of memory is not intrinsic to meat but added.)
. The animal fat in meat clogs cerebral arteries.
(Wm Shakespeare in 'Twelfth Night': 'He is a heavy eater of beef.
Methinks it doth harm to his wit.')
. Lancet, the British medical magazine, found that
Mad Cow is sometimes diagnosed as dementia.
TV shows have broadcast open heart
surgery operations in which long
yellow ropes of animal fat (cholesterol)
are pulled out of the heart and
arteries.
ADRENALIN OR EPINEPHRINE is secreted in massive amounts by
captive helpless terrorized animals who hear the screams of
their fellows while they stand in the slaughterhouse line
or in open slatted slaughterhouse trucks in the freezing cold
of winter.. as trucks rip through mountain passes.. or
the suffocating heat of summer. Dr Loving at Ohio State has
found that humans who fight have high adrenalin blood levels
even 22 hours later. Animal fright hormones saturate the blood
and muscle cells of animals. These hormones are protein enzymes
some of whose links are broken by cooking. Many remain intact
recreating the anger in those who consume the flesh. Adrenalin
is unreleased tears.
It is the ingestion of anger, terror, and agony. Such meat
adrenalin has been correlated to violence. A recent Maryland prison
study reported reduced violence in those eating vegetables. Ingesting
meat causes the body to be a constant state of unnatural alert.

. ANGER see above
. DESPAIR AND DEPRESSION see above
. VIOLENCE.. see above
. RAPE Alaska has led the nation in sexual abuse and in ingestion
of animal protein. Factors are adrenalin, female hormones
which stimulate unnatural sexual response given to animals, as well as higher ratio of men to women etc.
. NO VITAMIN C
C is in no animal products.. It speeds up the flow of brain snyapse
messages and promotes connective tissue in the skin, said two time
Nobel Laureaute Linus Pauling, who
defined an orthomolecule as a molecule in fruit. C is a toxin
bouncer. C should be consumed within the bulk of fruit, or
in a buffered state, or with food.

. NO FIBER..
. THE ANIMAL FAT, AMYLOID PLAQUE, CALCIUM PLAQUE AND URIC ACID CRYSTALS IN ARTERIES CAUSE HEART ATTACKS
Animal fat clogs the arteries causing heart attacks and strokes,
which are the single major cause of death in the world. Meat deaths
per year outdo alcohol, tobacco, and accidents combined. It is not
just the animal fat in meat which causes this,
but the uric acid (trioxypurine) is an unnatural stimulant, as is
the adrenalin enzyme. Adrenalin mobilizes the body for fight or
flight.
Meateating puts the body in a constant state of stress. Televized open heart surgeries show long yellow ropes of
animal fat being pulled out of arteries.
. CANCER
Countries with the highest meat consumption have the highest rates
of
intestinal cancer. Canada, Australia, the US, Argentina, and Chile
are some of these. Meat has no natural bulk and
causes a constipation which leads to total blockage.
. OVERWEIGHT OBESITY:
a. Dr Mervyn Hardinge working at an Ivy League university
found in isocaloric studies that with 3 control groups each
eating the same number of calories daily, vegans weigh 23 lbs. less than nonvegetarians while dairy
vegetarians weigh 12 lbs. less. Fruitarians weighed less
than the other 3 groups. The increased
bulk and lack of constipating flesh in vegetarian and vegan diets is a factor.
b. The milk of cows is designed to produce a thousand pound animal.
c. The lack of fiber in animal products causes constipation and
retained calories.
. ANTHRAX, SMALLPOX (COW POX) , TULAREMIA
and other forms of bioterrorism all originate in the consumption of
animal flesh or contact with their skins (hides, leather making,
woolsorters' disease) The USDA which protects the multi trillion
dollar
meat industry while attempting to prevent diversity in fruit seeds
from entering the country attributes only 700 deaths in animals to
anthrax last year (500 in Texas) while virtually only NBC reported
the anthrax in November 2001 in 21 California cows. (Author of 9
books Leonard Horowitz writes that the CIA gave Battelle of Columbus
Ohio 1 billion dollars to develop weaponized anthrax.)
SONGLESSNESS
Susan Miller, voice specialist with Georgetown Univ Hosp (a
vivisecting institution) has spoken of the rigidity of vocal chords
caused by dioxypurine (caffeine) . Trioxypurine (uric acid in meat)
is even more damaging.
DINOCOCCUS RADIODURANS: According to NPR in December of 2002, a
dinococcus radiodurans
can survive within meat though irradiated.
ACIDITY Many diseases of acidity are related to acidification
of the body from acid foods. Gastrointestinal acid reflux
has been called by some gastroenterologists a product of fast food.
ECOLI OR COLON BACTERIA When animals are butchered Dr John Harvey
Kellogg MD found their colon bacteria or ecoli could multiply
by the billions in a few hours. Now ecoli from slaughterhouses,
feedlots, and farms is filling the streams of the world. Not
only food poisoning deaths but ear infections and immune problems
are a result.

TOXIN BOUNCERS:
Vitamin C
chelation
sunshine
exercise
prayer and positive thought



II DISEASES ASSOCIATED WITH MEAT CONSUMPTION
There are tens of thousands of diseases caused by the consumption of
the flesh of animals. The USDA listed slightly over 100 in the early
part of the 20th Century, but as knowledge has increased and toxic
pollutants have saturated
the environment,
the number has increased.
TYPHOID FEVER is caused by meat, shellfish,
and water containing human and animal waste.

POLIO
anaging High Sulfur Concentrations in Beef Cattle Feedlot Rations
...
More severe cases of sulfur toxicity may result in polio... brainers or polio. http: //www.extension.umn.edu/beef/co...HighSulfur.pdf
PERITONITIS When George Wallace was shot, he never completely healed
from peritonitis caused by the bullet ripping through his intestinal
tract after he had just eaten a hamburger. The bullet carried colon
bacteria throughout the body.
GANGRENE The downed cows passed into the human meat supply by
the corrupt USDA are often gangrenous.
PUTREFACTION: Like any corpse, animal flesh (meat) deteriorates
after death. Even when the cadaver is frozen, creiophilic
bacteria multiply. (see below) The inability of the body efficiently
to digest animal flesh is a cause of appendicitis. When the animal
flesh is heated, thermophilic
bacteria develop. Dr John Harvey Kellogg found that billions of
ecoli bacteria
multiply in the body after the animal is dead a few hours.
GELATIN a name for the ground up bones of animals.. which
can contain Mad Cow frequent brand name Jello
MAD COW MAD DEER MAD ELK MAD FISH ETC Dr Stanley Prusiner went to
the University of California from Harvard to receive more priority
for his prion work, which won a Nobel Prize. Mad Cow proteins can
incubate for 50 years said the World Health Organization's
communicable disease division on the CBC. (Gelatin containing Mad Cow
is found in jello, gelcaps, soaps, toothpastes, soups etc. Vegans
are
catheterized much more seldom than nonvegans. However if by chance a
vegan is unconscious and catheterized against her will, often the
gels used against her will are animal derived.
The 5th Circuit has just upheld Howard Lyman after Amarillo
cattlemen
sued him. The Court held the truth is not libelous.

The factory farming of over 81% of US fish with bone meal,
unregulated for animal parts, causes fish to have sexual and other
deformities
and Mad Fish Disease or Piscean Spongiform Encephalopathy.
. THE PRIONS cause cancer. Prion diseases include CJD, Creutzfeld-
Jacob Disease, GSS Gerstmann-Straussler-Scheinker syndrome, FFI,
Fatal Familial Insomnia,
Kuru, a disease cannibals contract from eating human brains, (as
animals contract Mad Cow, Mad Deer and other diseases from being fed
other animals' parts) ,
Alpers Sydrome
. TRICHINOSIS
A disease involving worms burrowing into the flesh of pigs
. TOXOPLASMOSIS a disease of rare meat
. MONONUCLEOSIS blamed on sexual contact but more frequently
from rare meat
(this link says avoid meat to be cured)

. BRUCELLOSIS
. SALMONELLA one of many varieties of food poisoning
NAMES OF OTHER FOOD POISONING AND OTHER MEAT DISEASES
.Brucellosis, ptomaine, trichinosis
(pork flesh worms) , hoof and mouth, toxoplasmosis (a rare
meat disease) and many other food poisoning viruses, bacteriae are
the names of some of the ten thousand diseases which can be
transmitted to humans by eating flesh. Dr Owen Parrett in the
book 'Diseases of Food Animals' mentioned many.

III TOXIC ADDITIVES
STERILITY:
A Canadian study has found that female hormones flushed come into
the
water supply and cause sterile fish. Hundreds of times that amount
of
female hormones flows into streams from the urine of billions of
cows
given female hormones in the US. (Perhaps this is one way the kinder
inherit the earth) In addition, new studies are finding that
herbicides as well (such as Roundup) are causing sexual deformities
in fish and that they continue
to have power on the human population in parts as little
as 1 per billion.
. THE FEMALE HORMONES given the cows become prostate, breast, and
uterine cancer as well as nonreproductive cancers. Gynecomastia is
male breast swelling from such hormones, which increase sexual
pressure and are correlated also to
rape. In Puerto Rico 2 year old children have developed sexually.
The
European Union has banned these hormones and has been more honest
about Mad Cow in its meat supply. Tens of thousands of MEN are
contracting breast cancer annually.
IMPOTENCE is also a byproduct as male testosterone level is reduced.
A 2nd cause of impotence is animal fat blockage in prostate arteries.
FLY DUNG The dung of the cows is not
the only waste which splatters onto the carcass. Those who have
visited outdoor meat markets in the summer time with the carcasses
hanging on hooks in public view are able
to connect the connection of flies to the corpses which attract them.
. THE ANTIBIOTIC RESISTANCE in the animal's flesh is passed onto the
humans devouring them
HEAVY METALS IN MEAT & FISH (arsenic chromium mercury pcb's aluminum
lead
cadmium etc) cause memory loss, seniity and brain damage. The
inaction of the unelected Bush administration in this matter has
been
well reported.
. BENZOPYRENE, a carcinogen, applies only when meat is burned on the
grill. NIH has added grilled meat, but not yet all
meat, to its carcinogen list. Dr Samuel Epstein testified
before Congress about inhalable benzopyrene, but ingested
benzopyrene has been underreported.
. WASTELAGE
In addition to the waste secreted by the cow is the waste fed to the
cow. It is legal in many states to add the waste of many animals to
the feed (a chauvinist term for food when given to animals) .
. IMMUNE EXHAUSTION Just as polysexuality requires that the immune
system adapt to the bioorganisms of each new partner, so does the
eating of animals require the body to adapt to the bioorganisms of
each slaughtered animals. The immune system
can be healed by avoiding animal products & eating uncooked fruits
such as nuts, peas, tomatoes, cucumbers, oranges, mangos.
. SMALLPOX (COW POX OR KINE POX)
Edward Jenner developed the first vaccinations against this
meat consumption disease Meat industry money has changed the
name from cow pox and kine pox to smallpox.


CDC: why aren't you telling public about TB relationship to meat and dairy products?

. LIPS, SNOUTS, EYES, INTESTINAL
LININGS, SPINAL CORDS, BRAIN STEMS
Common to hot dogs are 'trash' meats which contain many pieces
of animal correlated to Mad Cow and other diseases.
. AIDS Dr Anthony Fauci, animal abuser
at NIH, stated at a press conference that
monkey meat consumption was one cause of AIDS. While cows' meat is
not monkey meat, it does contain BLV or bovine leukemia virus, the
same disease as the HTLV with only a name
change. For example, leukemia virus in horses is called
ELV, equine leukemia virus, in pigs PLV porcine leukemia virus, etc.
(Most AIDS was caused by smallpox vaccine from the World
Health Organization says Pierce Wright, former science editor
of the London Times.)
. THE SODIUM NITRATE.. red dye no.2..forms nitrosamines in
contact with animal protein. These nitrosamines are carcinogenic. In
addition are many other carcinogenic.
Food coloring makes grey, gangrene
green, and brown animal flesh
look red.
OTHER FOOD COLORING AGENTS
. PRESERVATIVES which keep meat from
rotting.. also turn the body into a wax mummy
. MEAT TENDERIZERS such as MONOSODIUM
GLUTAMATE which break down animal flesh.. also
break down the brain's necessary cellular proteins. Chinese
restaurant meat (where MSG is used) is
known to cause MSG headaches.
. THE METHYLCHOLANTHRENE AND MALANALDEHYDE
are 2 carcinogens created by heating animal flesh and fat above
300 degrees while the ecoli is caused by just the opposite:
undercooking.
. MERCURY at toxic levels is in much of the world's water. Fish are
at the top of the ocean food chain, while meat is at the top of the
land food chain. Mercury harms brain
function. A class action suit against vaccines containing mercury
has
been filed because of correlation to children's neural damage. Rep
Dan Burton's courageous fight against Henry
Waxman to bring out this truth has been underreported. Countires
with
the most fish consumption have the
most stomach cancer.
. POLYCHLORINATED BIPHENOLS are found
even in the livers of polar bears. They are a byproduct of the
lumber ](treekilling) industry as well as of GE and other
transformers. They harm brain function.
. ARSENIC a poison.. in all the waters of the world. One
source is the lumber industry.
. CHROMIUM a poison expelled by some steel
manufacturers
. MONONUCLEOSIS Like AIDS whose meat eating origins have been
obscured, mononucleosis was called the kissing disease when in
reality this immune depression disease was more frequently caused by
rare meat.
. INSECTICIDES AND HERBICIDES in the grain such as
Roundup by Monsanto are concentrated in the milk
and the meat of the animals. Each average weight 1000 lb. cow ate
21,000 lbs. average before being forced to the slaughterhouse. As
fish are at the top of the ocean food chain, animal products are at
thetop of the Mother Earth food chain, concentrating many times more
insecticides than non organic
fruits and vegetables. It is best to eat organic food,
for the sake of all beings.
ACIDITY: Meat is one of the most acid of foods, raising the body's
acidity level. Acidification is a
major cause of aging. Animal protein is high in sodium, affecting
negatively the sodium potassium balance.
MOLD OR MICOTOXINS
Many meats have mold on their surface.
SYPHILIS: connected to cow pox as well as to sexuality

MUCUS: correlated in teens to pimples..as it accumulates in the
lungs
and respiratory tracts and intestinal
tract it can literally suffocate us. Dr Arnold Ehret's
The Mucusless Diet is a timeless classic.
WORMS (in the bacon) are called trichinella and lead to trichinosis.
(* NIH is finally after decades is readying to put grilled meat on
the list of carcinogens)
ALCOHOLISM: Several studies have been done on the relationship
of alcohol to meat and their mutual craving. General Bramwell
Booth, Russian mental health therapists and others have treated
alcoholism with vegetarian diet. Alcohol is very expansive or
yin. Meat is the most yang or concentrated of all foods.
ADDICTION: The trioxypurine (uric
acid) in meat is more addictive than the dioxypurine (caffein) .
OSTEOPOROSIS: The trioxypurines in
meat are a cause of osteoporosis.
GANGRENE OF THE BOWEL: Human beings have the longest intestinal
tracts of any mammal. These tracts are designed for frugivores or
fruit eaters. Gangrene of the bowel is one of many intestinal
diseases caused by eating animal flesh.
BUTYRIC ACID This ingredient of animal fat causes bad odor.
It used to be that Asians complained of this in Westerners,
but now Japanese meat consumption is requiring more deodorants.
Dumpsters full of
rotting meat have a foul odor.
. What's CREIOPHILIC bacteria? What's
THERMOPHILIC bacteria? Creiophilic
bacteria survives freezing in the pieces of animal called meat.
Thermophilic bacteria survives 300 degrees.

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Amy Lowell

Pickthorn Manor

I

How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day!
A steely silver, underlined with blue,
And flashing where the round clouds, blown away,
Let drop the yellow sunshine to gleam through
And tip the edges of the waves with shifts
And spots of whitest fire, hard like gems
Cut from the midnight moon they were, and sharp
As wind through leafless stems.
The Lady Eunice walked between the drifts
Of blooming cherry-trees, and watched the rifts
Of clouds drawn through the river's azure warp.

II

Her little feet tapped softly down the path.
Her soul was listless; even the morning breeze
Fluttering the trees and strewing a light swath
Of fallen petals on the grass, could please
Her not at all. She brushed a hair aside
With a swift move, and a half-angry frown.
She stopped to pull a daffodil or two,
And held them to her gown
To test the colours; put them at her side,
Then at her breast, then loosened them and tried
Some new arrangement, but it would not do.

III

A lady in a Manor-house, alone,
Whose husband is in Flanders with the Duke
Of Marlborough and Prince Eugene, she's grown
Too apathetic even to rebuke
Her idleness. What is she on this Earth?
No woman surely, since she neither can
Be wed nor single, must not let her mind
Build thoughts upon a man
Except for hers. Indeed that were no dearth
Were her Lord here, for well she knew his worth,
And when she thought of him her eyes were kind.

IV

Too lately wed to have forgot the wooing.
Too unaccustomed as a bride to feel
Other than strange delight at her wife's doing.
Even at the thought a gentle blush would steal
Over her face, and then her lips would frame
Some little word of loving, and her eyes
Would brim and spill their tears, when all they saw
Was the bright sun, slantwise
Through burgeoning trees, and all the morning's flame
Burning and quivering round her. With quick shame
She shut her heart and bent before the law.

V

He was a soldier, she was proud of that.
This was his house and she would keep it well.
His honour was in fighting, hers in what
He'd left her here in charge of. Then a spell
Of conscience sent her through the orchard spying
Upon the gardeners. Were their tools about?
Were any branches broken? Had the weeds
Been duly taken out
Under the 'spaliered pears, and were these lying
Nailed snug against the sunny bricks and drying
Their leaves and satisfying all their needs?

VI

She picked a stone up with a little pout,
Stones looked so ill in well-kept flower-borders.
Where should she put it? All the paths about
Were strewn with fair, red gravel by her orders.
No stone could mar their sifted smoothness. So
She hurried to the river. At the edge
She stood a moment charmed by the swift blue
Beyond the river sedge.
She watched it curdling, crinkling, and the snow
Purfled upon its wave-tops. Then, 'Hullo,
My Beauty, gently, or you'll wriggle through.'

VII

The Lady Eunice caught a willow spray
To save herself from tumbling in the shallows
Which rippled to her feet. Then straight away
She peered down stream among the budding sallows.
A youth in leather breeches and a shirt
Of finest broidered lawn lay out upon
An overhanging bole and deftly swayed
A well-hooked fish which shone
In the pale lemon sunshine like a spurt
Of silver, bowed and damascened, and girt
With crimson spots and moons which waned and played.

VIII

The fish hung circled for a moment, ringed
And bright; then flung itself out, a thin blade
Of spotted lightning, and its tail was winged
With chipped and sparkled sunshine. And the shade
Broke up and splintered into shafts of light
Wheeling about the fish, who churned the air
And made the fish-line hum, and bent the rod
Almost to snapping. Care
The young man took against the twigs, with slight,
Deft movements he kept fish and line in tight
Obedience to his will with every prod.

IX

He lay there, and the fish hung just beyond.
He seemed uncertain what more he should do.
He drew back, pulled the rod to correspond,
Tossed it and caught it; every time he threw,
He caught it nearer to the point. At last
The fish was near enough to touch. He paused.
Eunice knew well the craft - 'What's got the thing!'
She cried. 'What can have caused -
Where is his net? The moment will be past.
The fish will wriggle free.' She stopped aghast.
He turned and bowed. One arm was in a sling.

X

The broad, black ribbon she had thought his basket
Must hang from, held instead a useless arm.
'I do not wonder, Madam, that you ask it.'
He smiled, for she had spoke aloud. 'The charm
Of trout fishing is in my eyes enhanced
When you must play your fish on land as well.'
'How will you take him?' Eunice asked. 'In truth
I really cannot tell.
'Twas stupid of me, but it simply chanced
I never thought of that until he glanced
Into the branches. 'Tis a bit uncouth.'

XI

He watched the fish against the blowing sky,
Writhing and glittering, pulling at the line.
'The hook is fast, I might just let him die,'
He mused. 'But that would jar against your fine
Sense of true sportsmanship, I know it would,'
Cried Eunice. 'Let me do it.' Swift and light
She ran towards him. 'It is so long now
Since I have felt a bite,
I lost all heart for everything.' She stood,
Supple and strong, beside him, and her blood
Tingled her lissom body to a glow.

XII

She quickly seized the fish and with a stone
Ended its flurry, then removed the hook,
Untied the fly with well-poised fingers. Done,
She asked him where he kept his fishing-book.
He pointed to a coat flung on the ground.
She searched the pockets, found a shagreen case,
Replaced the fly, noticed a golden stamp
Filling the middle space.
Two letters half rubbed out were there, and round
About them gay rococo flowers wound
And tossed a spray of roses to the clamp.

XIII

The Lady Eunice puzzled over these.
'G. D.' the young man gravely said. 'My name
Is Gervase Deane. Your servant, if you please.'
'Oh, Sir, indeed I know you, for your fame
For exploits in the field has reached my ears.
I did not know you wounded and returned.'
'But just come back, Madam. A silly prick
To gain me such unearned
Holiday making. And you, it appears,
Must be Sir Everard's lady. And my fears
At being caught a-trespassing were quick.'

XIV

He looked so rueful that she laughed out loud.
'You are forgiven, Mr. Deane. Even more,
I offer you the fishing, and am proud
That you should find it pleasant from this shore.
Nobody fishes now, my husband used
To angle daily, and I too with him.
He loved the spotted trout, and pike, and dace.
He even had a whim
That flies my fingers tied swiftly confused
The greater fish. And he must be excused,
Love weaves odd fancies in a lonely place.'

XV

She sighed because it seemed so long ago,
Those days with Everard; unthinking took
The path back to the orchard. Strolling so
She walked, and he beside her. In a nook
Where a stone seat withdrew beneath low boughs,
Full-blossomed, hummed with bees, they sat them down.
She questioned him about the war, the share
Her husband had, and grown
Eager by his clear answers, straight allows
Her hidden hopes and fears to speak, and rouse
Her numbed love, which had slumbered unaware.

XVI

Under the orchard trees daffodils danced
And jostled, turning sideways to the wind.
A dropping cherry petal softly glanced
Over her hair, and slid away behind.
At the far end through twisted cherry-trees
The old house glowed, geranium-hued, with bricks
Bloomed in the sun like roses, low and long,
Gabled, and with quaint tricks
Of chimneys carved and fretted. Out of these
Grey smoke was shaken, which the faint Spring breeze
Tossed into nothing. Then a thrush's song

XVII

Needled its way through sound of bees and river.
The notes fell, round and starred, between young leaves,
Trilled to a spiral lilt, stopped on a quiver.
The Lady Eunice listens and believes.
Gervase has many tales of her dear Lord,
His bravery, his knowledge, his charmed life.
She quite forgets who's speaking in the gladness
Of being this man's wife.
Gervase is wounded, grave indeed, the word
Is kindly said, but to a softer chord
She strings her voice to ask with wistful sadness,

XVIII

'And is Sir Everard still unscathed? I fain
Would know the truth.' 'Quite well, dear Lady, quite.'
She smiled in her content. 'So many slain,
You must forgive me for a little fright.'
And he forgave her, not alone for that,
But because she was fingering his heart,
Pressing and squeezing it, and thinking so
Only to ease her smart
Of painful, apprehensive longing. At
Their feet the river swirled and chucked. They sat
An hour there. The thrush flew to and fro.

XIX

The Lady Eunice supped alone that day,
As always since Sir Everard had gone,
In the oak-panelled parlour, whose array
Of faded portraits in carved mouldings shone.
Warriors and ladies, armoured, ruffed, peruked.
Van Dykes with long, slim fingers; Holbeins, stout
And heavy-featured; and one Rubens dame,
A peony just burst out,
With flaunting, crimson flesh. Eunice rebuked
Her thoughts of gentler blood, when these had duked
It with the best, and scorned to change their name.

XX

A sturdy family, and old besides,
Much older than her own, the Earls of Crowe.
Since Saxon days, these men had sought their brides
Among the highest born, but always so,
Taking them to themselves, their wealth, their lands,
But never their titles. Stern perhaps, but strong,
The Framptons fed their blood from richest streams,
Scorning the common throng.
Gazing upon these men, she understands
The toughness of the web wrought from such strands
And pride of Everard colours all her dreams.

XXI

Eunice forgets to eat, watching their faces
Flickering in the wind-blown candle's shine.
Blue-coated lackeys tiptoe to their places,
And set out plates of fruit and jugs of wine.
The table glitters black like Winter ice.
The Dartle's rushing, and the gentle clash
Of blossomed branches, drifts into her ears.
And through the casement sash
She sees each cherry stem a pointed slice
Of splintered moonlight, topped with all the spice
And shimmer of the blossoms it uprears.

XXII

'In such a night -' she laid the book aside,
She could outnight the poet by thinking back.
In such a night she came here as a bride.
The date was graven in the almanack
Of her clasped memory. In this very room
Had Everard uncloaked her. On this seat
Had drawn her to him, bade her note the trees,
How white they were and sweet
And later, coming to her, her dear groom,
Her Lord, had lain beside her in the gloom
Of moon and shade, and whispered her to ease.

XXIII

Her little taper made the room seem vast,
Caverned and empty. And her beating heart
Rapped through the silence all about her cast
Like some loud, dreadful death-watch taking part
In this sad vigil. Slowly she undrest,
Put out the light and crept into her bed.
The linen sheets were fragrant, but so cold.
And brimming tears she shed,
Sobbing and quivering in her barren nest,
Her weeping lips into the pillow prest,
Her eyes sealed fast within its smothering fold.

XXIV

The morning brought her a more stoic mind,
And sunshine struck across the polished floor.
She wondered whether this day she should find
Gervase a-fishing, and so listen more,
Much more again, to all he had to tell.
And he was there, but waiting to begin
Until she came. They fished awhile, then went
To the old seat within
The cherry's shade. He pleased her very well
By his discourse. But ever he must dwell
Upon Sir Everard. Each incident

XXV

Must be related and each term explained.
How troops were set in battle, how a siege
Was ordered and conducted. She complained
Because he bungled at the fall of Liege.
The curious names of parts of forts she knew,
And aired with conscious pride her ravelins,
And counterscarps, and lunes. The day drew on,
And his dead fish's fins
In the hot sunshine turned a mauve-green hue.
At last Gervase, guessing the hour, withdrew.
But she sat long in still oblivion.

XXVI

Then he would bring her books, and read to her
The poems of Dr. Donne, and the blue river
Would murmur through the reading, and a stir
Of birds and bees make the white petals shiver,
And one or two would flutter prone and lie
Spotting the smooth-clipped grass. The days went by
Threaded with talk and verses. Green leaves pushed
Through blossoms stubbornly.
Gervase, unconscious of dishonesty,
Fell into strong and watchful loving, free
He thought, since always would his lips be hushed.

XXVII

But lips do not stay silent at command,
And Gervase strove in vain to order his.
Luckily Eunice did not understand
That he but read himself aloud, for this
Their friendship would have snapped. She treated him
And spoilt him like a brother. It was now
'Gervase' and 'Eunice' with them, and he dined
Whenever she'd allow,
In the oak parlour, underneath the dim
Old pictured Framptons, opposite her slim
Figure, so bright against the chair behind.

XXVIII

Eunice was happier than she had been
For many days, and yet the hours were long.
All Gervase told to her but made her lean
More heavily upon the past. Among
Her hopes she lived, even when she was giving
Her morning orders, even when she twined
Nosegays to deck her parlours. With the thought
Of Everard, her mind
Solaced its solitude, and in her striving
To do as he would wish was all her living.
She welcomed Gervase for the news he brought.

XXIX

Black-hearts and white-hearts, bubbled with the sun,
Hid in their leaves and knocked against each other.
Eunice was standing, panting with her run
Up to the tool-house just to get another
Basket. All those which she had brought were filled,
And still Gervase pelted her from above.
The buckles of his shoes flashed higher and higher
Until his shoulders strove
Quite through the top. 'Eunice, your spirit's filled
This tree. White-hearts!' He shook, and cherries spilled
And spat out from the leaves like falling fire.

XXX

The wide, sun-winged June morning spread itself
Over the quiet garden. And they packed
Full twenty baskets with the fruit. 'My shelf
Of cordials will be stored with what it lacked.
In future, none of us will drink strong ale,
But cherry-brandy.' 'Vastly good, I vow,'
And Gervase gave the tree another shake.
The cherries seemed to flow
Out of the sky in cloudfuls, like blown hail.
Swift Lady Eunice ran, her farthingale,
Unnoticed, tangling in a fallen rake.

XXXI

She gave a little cry and fell quite prone
In the long grass, and lay there very still.
Gervase leapt from the tree at her soft moan,
And kneeling over her, with clumsy skill
Unloosed her bodice, fanned her with his hat,
And his unguarded lips pronounced his heart.
'Eunice, my Dearest Girl, where are you hurt?'
His trembling fingers dart
Over her limbs seeking some wound. She strove
To answer, opened wide her eyes, above
Her knelt Sir Everard, with face alert.

XXXII

Her eyelids fell again at that sweet sight,
'My Love!' she murmured, 'Dearest! Oh, my Dear!'
He took her in his arms and bore her right
And tenderly to the old seat, and 'Here
I have you mine at last,' she said, and swooned
Under his kisses. When she came once more
To sight of him, she smiled in comfort knowing
Herself laid as before
Close covered on his breast. And all her glowing
Youth answered him, and ever nearer growing
She twined him in her arms and soft festooned

XXXIII

Herself about him like a flowering vine,
Drawing his lips to cling upon her own.
A ray of sunlight pierced the leaves to shine
Where her half-opened bodice let be shown
Her white throat fluttering to his soft caress,
Half-gasping with her gladness. And her pledge
She whispers, melting with delight. A twig
Snaps in the hornbeam hedge.
A cackling laugh tears through the quietness.
Eunice starts up in terrible distress.
'My God! What's that?' Her staring eyes are big.


XXXIV

Revulsed emotion set her body shaking
As though she had an ague. Gervase swore,
Jumped to his feet in such a dreadful taking
His face was ghastly with the look it wore.
Crouching and slipping through the trees, a man
In worn, blue livery, a humpbacked thing,
Made off. But turned every few steps to gaze
At Eunice, and to fling
Vile looks and gestures back. 'The ruffian!
By Christ's Death! I will split him to a span
Of hog's thongs.' She grasped at his sleeve, 'Gervase!


XXXV

What are you doing here? Put down that sword,
That's only poor old Tony, crazed and lame.
We never notice him. With my dear Lord
I ought not to have minded that he came.
But, Gervase, it surprises me that you
Should so lack grace to stay here.' With one hand
She held her gaping bodice to conceal
Her breast. 'I must demand
Your instant absence. Everard, but new
Returned, will hardly care for guests. Adieu.'
'Eunice, you're mad.' His brain began to reel.

XXXVI

He tried again to take her, tried to twist
Her arms about him. Truly, she had said
Nothing should ever part them. In a mist
She pushed him from her, clasped her aching head
In both her hands, and rocked and sobbed aloud.
'Oh! Where is Everard? What does this mean?
So lately come to leave me thus alone!'
But Gervase had not seen
Sir Everard. Then, gently, to her bowed
And sickening spirit, he told of her proud
Surrender to him. He could hear her moan.

XXXVII

Then shame swept over her and held her numb,
Hiding her anguished face against the seat.
At last she rose, a woman stricken - dumb -
And trailed away with slowly-dragging feet.
Gervase looked after her, but feared to pass
The barrier set between them. All his rare
Joy broke to fragments - worse than that, unreal.
And standing lonely there,
His swollen heart burst out, and on the grass
He flung himself and wept. He knew, alas!
The loss so great his life could never heal.

XXXVIII

For days thereafter Eunice lived retired,
Waited upon by one old serving-maid.
She would not leave her chamber, and desired
Only to hide herself. She was afraid
Of what her eyes might trick her into seeing,
Of what her longing urge her then to do.
What was this dreadful illness solitude
Had tortured her into?
Her hours went by in a long constant fleeing
The thought of that one morning. And her being
Bruised itself on a happening so rude.

XXXIX

It grew ripe Summer, when one morning came
Her tirewoman with a letter, printed
Upon the seal were the Deane crest and name.
With utmost gentleness, the letter hinted
His understanding and his deep regret.
But would she not permit him once again
To pay her his profound respects? No word
Of what had passed should pain
Her resolution. Only let them get
Back the old comradeship. Her eyes were wet
With starting tears, now truly she deplored

XL

His misery. Yes, she was wrong to keep
Away from him. He hardly was to blame.
'Twas she - she shuddered and began to weep.
'Twas her fault! Hers! Her everlasting shame
Was that she suffered him, whom not at all
She loved. Poor Boy! Yes, they must still be friends.
She owed him that to keep the balance straight.
It was such poor amends
Which she could make for rousing hopes to gall
Him with their unfulfilment. Tragical
It was, and she must leave him desolate.

XLI

Hard silence he had forced upon his lips
For long and long, and would have done so still
Had not she - here she pressed her finger tips
Against her heavy eyes. Then with forced will
She wrote that he might come, sealed with the arms
Of Crowe and Frampton twined. Her heart felt lighter
When this was done. It seemed her constant care
Might some day cease to fright her.
Illness could be no crime, and dreadful harms
Did come from too much sunshine. Her alarms
Would lessen when she saw him standing there,

XLII

Simple and kind, a brother just returned
From journeying, and he would treat her so.
She knew his honest heart, and if there burned
A spark in it he would not let it show.
But when he really came, and stood beside
Her underneath the fruitless cherry boughs,
He seemed a tired man, gaunt, leaden-eyed.
He made her no more vows,
Nor did he mention one thing he had tried
To put into his letter. War supplied
Him topics. And his mind seemed occupied.

XLIII

Daily they met. And gravely walked and talked.
He read her no more verses, and he stayed
Only until their conversation, balked
Of every natural channel, fled dismayed.
Again the next day she would meet him, trying
To give her tone some healthy sprightliness,
But his uneager dignity soon chilled
Her well-prepared address.
Thus Summer waned, and in the mornings, crying
Of wild geese startled Eunice, and their flying
Whirred overhead for days and never stilled.

XLIV

One afternoon of grey clouds and white wind,
Eunice awaited Gervase by the river.
The Dartle splashed among the reeds and whined
Over the willow-roots, and a long sliver
Of caked and slobbered foam crept up the bank.
All through the garden, drifts of skirling leaves
Blew up, and settled down, and blew again.
The cherry-trees were weaves
Of empty, knotted branches, and a dank
Mist hid the house, mouldy it smelt and rank
With sodden wood, and still unfalling rain.

XLV

Eunice paced up and down. No joy she took
At meeting Gervase, but the custom grown
Still held her. He was late. She sudden shook,
And caught at her stopped heart. Her eyes had shown
Sir Everard emerging from the mist.
His uniform was travel-stained and torn,
His jackboots muddy, and his eager stride
Jangled his spurs. A thorn
Entangled, trailed behind him. To the tryst
He hastened. Eunice shuddered, ran - a twist
Round a sharp turning and she fled to hide.

XLVI

But he had seen her as she swiftly ran,
A flash of white against the river's grey.
'Eunice,' he called. 'My Darling. Eunice. Can
You hear me? It is Everard. All day
I have been riding like the very devil
To reach you sooner. Are you startled, Dear?'
He broke into a run and followed her,
And caught her, faint with fear,
Cowering and trembling as though she some evil
Spirit were seeing. 'What means this uncivil
Greeting, Dear Heart?' He saw her senses blur.

XLVII

Swaying and catching at the seat, she tried
To speak, but only gurgled in her throat.
At last, straining to hold herself, she cried
To him for pity, and her strange words smote
A coldness through him, for she begged Gervase
To leave her, 'twas too much a second time.
Gervase must go, always Gervase, her mind
Repeated like a rhyme
This name he did not know. In sad amaze
He watched her, and that hunted, fearful gaze,
So unremembering and so unkind.

XLVIII

Softly he spoke to her, patiently dealt
With what he feared her madness. By and by
He pierced her understanding. Then he knelt
Upon the seat, and took her hands: 'Now try
To think a minute I am come, my Dear,
Unharmed and back on furlough. Are you glad
To have your lover home again? To me,
Pickthorn has never had
A greater pleasantness. Could you not bear
To come and sit awhile beside me here?
A stone between us surely should not be.'

XLIX

She smiled a little wan and ravelled smile,
Then came to him and on his shoulder laid
Her head, and they two rested there awhile,
Each taking comfort. Not a word was said.
But when he put his hand upon her breast
And felt her beating heart, and with his lips
Sought solace for her and himself. She started
As one sharp lashed with whips,
And pushed him from her, moaning, his dumb quest
Denied and shuddered from. And he, distrest,
Loosened his wife, and long they sat there, parted.

L

Eunice was very quiet all that day,
A little dazed, and yet she seemed content.
At candle-time, he asked if she would play
Upon her harpsichord, at once she went
And tinkled airs from Lully's `Carnival'
And `Bacchus', newly brought away from France.
Then jaunted through a lively rigadoon
To please him with a dance
By Purcell, for he said that surely all
Good Englishmen had pride in national
Accomplishment. But tiring of it soon

LI

He whispered her that if she had forgiven
His startling her that afternoon, the clock
Marked early bed-time. Surely it was Heaven
He entered when she opened to his knock.
The hours rustled in the trailing wind
Over the chimney. Close they lay and knew
Only that they were wedded. At his touch
Anxiety she threw
Away like a shed garment, and inclined
Herself to cherish him, her happy mind
Quivering, unthinking, loving overmuch.

LII

Eunice lay long awake in the cool night
After her husband slept. She gazed with joy
Into the shadows, painting them with bright
Pictures of all her future life's employ.
Twin gems they were, set to a single jewel,
Each shining with the other. Soft she turned
And felt his breath upon her hair, and prayed
Her happiness was earned.
Past Earls of Crowe should give their blood for fuel
To light this Frampton's hearth-fire. By no cruel
Affrightings would she ever be dismayed.

LIII

When Everard, next day, asked her in joke
What name it was that she had called him by,
She told him of Gervase, and as she spoke
She hardly realized it was a lie.
Her vision she related, but she hid
The fondness into which she had been led.
Sir Everard just laughed and pinched her ear,
And quite out of her head
The matter drifted. Then Sir Everard chid
Himself for laziness, and off he rid
To see his men and count his farming-gear.

LIV

At supper he seemed overspread with gloom,
But gave no reason why, he only asked
More questions of Gervase, and round the room
He walked with restless strides. At last he tasked
Her with a greater feeling for this man
Than she had given. Eunice quick denied
The slightest interest other than a friend
Might claim. But he replied
He thought she underrated. Then a ban
He put on talk and music. He'd a plan
To work at, draining swamps at Pickthorn End.

LV

Next morning Eunice found her Lord still changed,
Hard and unkind, with bursts of anger. Pride
Kept him from speaking out. His probings ranged
All round his torment. Lady Eunice tried
To sooth him. So a week went by, and then
His anguish flooded over; with clenched hands
Striving to stem his words, he told her plain
Tony had seen them, 'brands
Burning in Hell,' the man had said. Again
Eunice described her vision, and how when
Awoke at last she had known dreadful pain.

LVI

He could not credit it, and misery fed
Upon his spirit, day by day it grew.
To Gervase he forbade the house, and led
The Lady Eunice such a life she flew
At his approaching footsteps. Winter came
Snowing and blustering through the Manor trees.
All the roof-edges spiked with icicles
In fluted companies.
The Lady Eunice with her tambour-frame
Kept herself sighing company. The flame
Of the birch fire glittered on the walls.

LVII

A letter was brought to her as she sat,
Unsealed, unsigned. It told her that his wound,
The writer's, had so well recovered that
To join his regiment he felt him bound.
But would she not wish him one short 'Godspeed',
He asked no more. Her greeting would suffice.
He had resolved he never should return.
Would she this sacrifice
Make for a dying man? How could she read
The rest! But forcing her eyes to the deed,
She read. Then dropped it in the fire to burn.

LVIII

Gervase had set the river for their meeting
As farthest from the farms where Everard
Spent all his days. How should he know such cheating
Was quite expected, at least no dullard
Was Everard Frampton. Hours by hours he hid
Among the willows watching. Dusk had come,
And from the Manor he had long been gone.
Eunice her burdensome
Task set about. Hooded and cloaked, she slid
Over the slippery paths, and soon amid
The sallows saw a boat tied to a stone.

LIX

Gervase arose, and kissed her hand, then pointed
Into the boat. She shook her head, but he
Begged her to realize why, and with disjointed
Words told her of what peril there might be
From listeners along the river bank.
A push would take them out of earshot. Ten
Minutes was all he asked, then she should land,
He go away again,
Forever this time. Yet how could he thank
Her for so much compassion. Here she sank
Upon a thwart, and bid him quick unstrand

LX

His boat. He cast the rope, and shoved the keel
Free of the gravel; jumped, and dropped beside
Her; took the oars, and they began to steal
Under the overhanging trees. A wide
Gash of red lantern-light cleft like a blade
Into the gloom, and struck on Eunice sitting
Rigid and stark upon the after thwart.
It blazed upon their flitting
In merciless light. A moment so it stayed,
Then was extinguished, and Sir Everard made
One leap, and landed just a fraction short.

LXI

His weight upon the gunwale tipped the boat
To straining balance. Everard lurched and seized
His wife and held her smothered to his coat.
'Everard, loose me, we shall drown -' and squeezed
Against him, she beat with her hands. He gasped
'Never, by God!' The slidden boat gave way
And the black foamy water split - and met.
Bubbled up through the spray
A wailing rose and in the branches rasped,
And creaked, and stilled. Over the treetops, clasped
In the blue evening, a clear moon was set.

LXII

They lie entangled in the twisting roots,
Embraced forever. Their cold marriage bed
Close-canopied and curtained by the shoots
Of willows and pale birches. At the head,
White lilies, like still swans, placidly float
And sway above the pebbles. Here are waves
Sun-smitten for a threaded counterpane
Gold-woven on their graves.
In perfect quietness they sleep, remote
In the green, rippled twilight. Death has smote
Them to perpetual oneness who were twain.

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