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We are obsessed with image. I don't think we should take it that seriously.

quote by Geri Halliwell
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Dejection: An Ode

Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon,
With the old Moon in her arms ;
And I fear, I fear, My Master dear !
We shall have a deadly storm.

Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence
--------------------------------------- ------------------------------------

I

Well ! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made
The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence,
This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence
Unroused by winds, that ply a busier trade
Than those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes,
Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and rakes
Upon the strings of this Æolian lute,
[Image]Which better far were mute.
For lo ! the New-moon winter-bright !
And overspread with phantom light,
(With swimming phantom light o'erspread
But rimmed and circled by a silver thread)
I see the old Moon in her lap, foretelling
The coming-on of rain and squally blast.
And oh ! that even now the gust were swelling,
And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast !
Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed,
[Image]And sent my soul abroad,
Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give,
Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live !

II

A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear,
A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief,
Which finds no natural outlet, no relief,
[Image]In word, or sigh, or tear--
O Lady ! in this wan and heartless mood,
To other thoughts by yonder throstle woo'd,
All this long eve, so balmy and serene,
Have I been gazing on the western sky,
And its peculiar tint of yellow green :
And still I gaze--and with how blank an eye !
And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars,
That give away their motion to the stars ;
Those stars, that glide behind them or between,
Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but always seen :
Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew
In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue ;
I see them all so excellently fair,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Fears In Solitude

A green and silent spot, amid the hills,
A small and silent dell ! O'er stiller place
No singing sky-lark ever poised himself.
The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,
Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on,
All golden with the never-bloomless furze,
Which now blooms most profusely : but the dell,
Bathed by the mist, is fresh and delicate
As vernal corn-field, or the unripe flax,
When, through its half-transparent stalks, at eve,
The level sunshine glimmers with green light.
Oh ! 'tis a quiet spirit-healing nook !
Which all, methinks, would love ; but chiefly he,
The humble man, who, in his youthful years,
Knew just so much of folly, as had made
His early manhood more securely wise !
Here he might lie on fern or withered heath,
While from the singing lark (that sings unseen
The minstrelsy that solitude loves best),
And from the sun, and from the breezy air,
Sweet influences trembled o'er his frame ;
And he, with many feelings, many thoughts,
Made up a meditative joy, and found
Religious meanings in the forms of Nature !
And so, his senses gradually wrapt
In a half sleep, he dreams of better worlds,
And dreaming hears thee still, O singing lark,
That singest like an angel in the clouds !

My God ! it is a melancholy thing
For such a man, who would full fain preserve
His soul in calmness, yet perforce must feel
For all his human brethren--O my God !
It weighs upon the heart, that he must think
What uproar and what strife may now be stirring
This way or that way o'er these silent hills--
Invasion, and the thunder and the shout,
And all the crash of onset ; fear and rage,
And undetermined conflict--even now,
Even now, perchance, and in his native isle :
Carnage and groans beneath this blessed sun !
We have offended, Oh ! my countrymen !
We have offended very grievously,
And been most tyrannous. From east to west
A groan of accusation pierces Heaven !
The wretched plead against us ; multitudes
Countless and vehement, the sons of God,
Our brethren ! Like a cloud that travels on,
Steamed up from Cairo's swamps of pestilence,
Even so, my countrymen ! have we gone forth

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Beauty Contest

Damsel in distress is quite submissive
Look how somber my vanity is
A feminine human creature
Superficial, seducing detour
Im going to the mall for the cookie cutter
The ugly duckling will always suffer
Contaminated standards, I try to fight it
I better get back on my diet
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Beauty contest
Howd my vanity get such a mess?
Beauty contest
Im obsessed
Reduce myself, I got the strict restrictions
Not sexy enough without the regulations
A melting point countdown the fading features
Born to blossom and bloom to perish
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Beauty contest
Oh, Ive got to get out of this mess
Beauty contest
Im obsessed
And Ive fallen, I cant help myself
Im feeling envious of all the rest
Youre bringing out the lemming in me
A victim of the cattle call disease
Not easy to be me
I feel swollen
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Beauty contest
Howd my vanity get such a mess?
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Beauty contest
Ive got to get out of this mess
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Beauty contest
Howd my vanity get such a mess?
Caught up in the beauty contest
Caught up in the beauty contest
Caught up in the beauty contest
Caught up in the beauty contest
Caught up in the beauty contest
And I feel swollen
Howd my vanity get such a mess?
My vanitys a mess

song performed by No Doubt
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Obsessed With You

You are just a concept
You are just a dream
You're just a reflection
Of the new regime
You are just a symbol
You are just theme
You're just another figure
For the sales machine
Ooo ooo they're obsessed
With yoo ooo
Ooo ooo cos they're watching
Yoo ooo
You are just a victim
You are just a find
Soon to be a casualty
Of time
You are just a concept
You are just a dream
You're just a reflection
Of the new regime
Ooo ooo they're obsessed
With yoo ooo
Ooo ooo they're obsessed
With yoo ooo
Ooo ooo cos they're watching
Yoo ooo
Ooo ooo they're obsessed
With yoo ooo
Ooo ooo they're obsessed
With yoo ooo
Ooo ooo cos they're watching
Yoo ooo
You are just a victim
You are just a find
Soon to be a casualty
Of time
You are just a symbol
You are just theme
You're just another figure
For the sales machine
Ooo ooo they're obsessed
With yoo ooo
Ooo ooo they're obsessed
With yoo ooo
Ooo ooo cos they're watching
Yoo ooo
Ooo ooo they're obsessed
With yoo ooo
Ooo ooo they're obsessed
With yoo ooo

[...] Read more

song performed by X-Ray Spex
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Shattered Image

I used to sit for hours as a kid
And dangle my feet from an old flat bridge
Seeing myself in the water below
Shatter my image with the rocks Id throw
Shatter my image with the rocks Id throw
Long time gone and a long time ago
When I shattered my image with the rocks Id throw
The world is cruel and people are cold
Now they shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Im far from perfect but I aint all bad
And it hurts me more than it makes me mad
We all do things that we dont want told
And we all throw stones that we shouldnt throw
You shatter my image with the rocks you throw
Long time gone and a long time ago
When I shattered my image with the rocks Id throw
The world is cruel and people are cold
Now they shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Shatter my image with the rocks they throw
If you live in a glass house dont throw stones
Dont shatter my image til you look at your own
Look at your reflection in your house of glass
Dont open my closet if your owns full of trash
Stay out of my closet if your owns full of trash
Long time gone and a long time ago
When I shattered my image with the rocks Id throw
The world is cruel and people are cold
Now they shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Shatter my image with the rocks you throw
Dont shatter my image with the rocks you throw

song performed by Dolly Parton
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Book IV - Part 03 - The Senses And Mental Pictures

Bodies that strike the eyes, awaking sight.
From certain things flow odours evermore,
As cold from rivers, heat from sun, and spray
From waves of ocean, eater-out of walls
Around the coasts. Nor ever cease to flit
The varied voices, sounds athrough the air.
Then too there comes into the mouth at times
The wet of a salt taste, when by the sea
We roam about; and so, whene'er we watch
The wormword being mixed, its bitter stings.
To such degree from all things is each thing
Borne streamingly along, and sent about
To every region round; and Nature grants
Nor rest nor respite of the onward flow,
Since 'tis incessantly we feeling have,
And all the time are suffered to descry
And smell all things at hand, and hear them sound.
Besides, since shape examined by our hands
Within the dark is known to be the same
As that by eyes perceived within the light
And lustrous day, both touch and sight must be
By one like cause aroused. So, if we test
A square and get its stimulus on us
Within the dark, within the light what square
Can fall upon our sight, except a square
That images the things? Wherefore it seems
The source of seeing is in images,
Nor without these can anything be viewed.

Now these same films I name are borne about
And tossed and scattered into regions all.
But since we do perceive alone through eyes,
It follows hence that whitherso we turn
Our sight, all things do strike against it there
With form and hue. And just how far from us
Each thing may be away, the image yields
To us the power to see and chance to tell:
For when 'tis sent, at once it shoves ahead
And drives along the air that's in the space
Betwixt it and our eyes. And thus this air
All glides athrough our eyeballs, and, as 'twere,
Brushes athrough our pupils and thuswise
Passes across. Therefore it comes we see
How far from us each thing may be away,
And the more air there be that's driven before,
And too the longer be the brushing breeze
Against our eyes, the farther off removed
Each thing is seen to be: forsooth, this work
With mightily swift order all goes on,
So that upon one instant we may see

[...] Read more

poem by Lucretius
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The Girl With Demon Eyes

A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.

A girl raped and they say it was justified.
She was asking for it by being such a tease.
Wearing skin tight cloths.
Walking with a strut saying I know you want it.
But you'll never have it.

A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.

Her brother died trying to stop it.
His head got shoved right through a window by three men.
The glass broke and dropped slashing his throat.
And the men turned back on her.
She could smell the whiskey on their breath even from distance.

A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.

She knew what they wanted.
But looking at her brother she had to fight it.
She grabbed the nearest object she could get her hands on.
And clobbered the biggest one of the bunch with a lamp.
Down he went crashing right across the coffee table.

A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.

The other two grabbed her and started ripping off her cloths.
She screamed multiple times at the top of her lungs.
Kicking, punching, and clawing her way to be free.
And it was not a completely an unanswered plea.
The a man and his wife next door heard the woman being brutalized.

A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.

He thundered, call 911 I'm going to grab my gun.
Tossed her his cell phone, as he started running.
To bedroom he went.
No hesitation, for it was a matter of life and death.
Meanwhile these gruff men were taking turns forcing her to do unspeakable acts and her brother just lay there unable to move.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Am I obsessed with death?

Stroking a head of a snake
Feeling a tiger’s breath
Am I obsessed with death?
Am I obsessed with death?

Daydreaming while crossing a street
of life that I want to have
Am I obsessed with death?
Am I obsessed with death?

When shit start hitting fans
at results I will quietly laugh
Am I obsessed with death?
Am I obsessed with death?

Laying sick on a bed of death
I will cling to what I still have
I simply enjoy the life
Don’t care about death

Jan 12,2010

poem by Slava Olchevski
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I Am An American Indian

Ahwhoo-ooo hey hey ah whoo hey hey...
Ahhhwhoo-ooo hey hey ahhh hey!

Ahwhoo-ooo hey hey ah whoo hey hey...
Ahhhwhoo-ooo hey hey ahhh hey!

I am an American Indian more than an image to fade.
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade,
Away!
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade.
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade,
Away!

Ahwhoo-ooo hey hey ah whoo hey hey...
Ahhhwhoo-ooo hey hey ahhh hey!

Ahwhoo-ooo hey hey ah whoo hey hey...
Ahhhwhoo-ooo hey hey ahhh hey!

On the prairies I would hunt and stay and pray,
And worshop the 'Deities' high.
I would wear the warpaint when invaded,
Chasing enemies away.

Ahwhoo-ooo hey hey ah whoo hey hey...
Ahhhwhoo-ooo hey hey ahhh hey!

Peaceful living in a brother giving,
And dedicated to nature everyday.
Never from my heritage did I stray.
Or ever would be enslaved.

Ahwhoo-ooo hey hey ah whoo hey hey...
Ahhhwhoo-ooo hey hey ahhh hey!

I am an American Indian more than an image to fade.
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade,
Away!
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade.
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade,
Away!

On the prairies I would hunt and stay and pray,
And worship the 'Deities' high.
Aye, aye,
I'd would wear the warpaint when and if invaded,
Chasing my enemies away.
And faithful to my heritage I am...
Never far away to stray.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Zapolya

Song

(Act II, Scene I, lines 65-80)

A sunny shaft did I behold,
From sky to earth it slanted :
And poised therein a bird so bold--
Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted !

He sank, he rose, he twinkled, he trolled
Within that shaft of sunny mist ;
His eyes of fire, his beak of gold,
All else of amethyst !

And thus he sang : `Adieu ! adieu !
Love's dreams prove seldom true.
The blossoms they make no delay :
The sparkling dew-drops will not stay.
Sweet month of May,
[Image] We must away ;
[Image][Image] Far, far away !
[Image][Image][Image] To-day ! to-day !'

----------------------------

Hun ting Song

(Act IV, Scene II, lines 56-71)

Up, up ! ye dames, ye lasses gay !
To the meadows trip away.
'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn,
And scare the small birds from the corn.
Not a soul at home may stay :
[Image]For the shepherds must go
[Image]With lance and bow
To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.

Leave the hearth and leave the house
To the cricket and the mouse :
Find grannam out a sunny seat,
With babe and lambkin at her feet.
Not a soul at home must stay :
[Image]For the shepherds must go
[Image]With lance and bow
To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.

poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Blood Keeper

Do it right
Save time
Make love
Feel fine about everything
Im obsessed, Im a wreck, Im insane.
Isnt that what you want me to say?
Dont you need to feel my blood on the tracks today?
Look right
Shield my eyes
Cough it up
Apologize to everyone
Im obsessed, Im a wreck, Im insane
Isnt that what you want me to say?
Dont you need to feel my blood on the tracks today?
Lovely body parts for everyone
Come and take them off right now
What do you need them for, its just the two of us
No ones asking you why
Im obsessed, Im a wreck, Im insane
Isnt that what you want me to say?
Dont you need to feel my blood on the tracks today?
Do it right
Save time
Close the nest
Wash your hands of everyone
Im obsessed, Im a wreck, Im insane
Isnt that what you want me to say?
Dont you need to feel my blood on the tracks today?
Im obsessed, Im a wreck, Im insane
Isnt that what you want me to say?
Dont you need to feel my blood on the tracks today?

song performed by Liz Phair
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Spasm

My, Out of my mind
My life, I
My mind, out of my mind
My life, I
So confident so, self obsessed no
Compromise no, self obsessed no
My...mind, out of my mind
As you stare into the water
Are you scared you'll be forgotten
As you stare into the water
My, Out of my mind
My life, I
My mind, out of my mind
My mind, I
Compromise no, self obsessed no
Compromise no, self obsessed so
Compromise no, compromise so
Compromise so, self obsessed
As you stare into the tide
Are you scared to be forgotten
As you stare into the water
Terrified...terrified...terrified to be forgotten [x4]

song performed by Tool
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It Takes A Mind To Stop All Wars

Bloated with promoted poses,
Upheld and exposed.
And...
Picked to be the ones depicted,
To combat and end conflicts.

Images portraying bravery,
Do not end the fears...
Of the ones who have the looks,
But use them to pretend.

It takes a mind to stop all wars.
And not a muscled image given.
Minds will stop all wars,
If the cause is for peace.

It takes a mind to stop all wars.
And not a muscled image given.
Minds will stop all wars,
If the cause is for peace to leave.

Bloated with promoted poses,
Upheld and exposed.
It takes a mind to stop all wars.
And not a muscled image given.
Minds will stop all wars,
If the cause is for peace.

It takes a mind to stop all wars.
And not a muscled image given.
Minds will stop all wars,
If the cause is for peace to leave.

And not a muscled image given,
To give and pretend.
It takes a mind to stop all wars.
And not a muscled image given.
Minds will stop all wars,
If the cause is for peace.

It takes a mind to stop all wars.
And not a muscled image given.
Minds will stop all wars,
If the cause is for peace to leave.

Bloated with promoted poses,
Upheld and exposed.
And...
Picked to be the ones depicted,
To combat and end conflicts...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unlike An Image To Fit

Unlike,
An image to fit.

Do you want to get to know,
What it is that makes me tick?
With a wish to get to know me...
Unlike,
An image to fit.

Do you want to get to know,
What it is that makes me tick?
With a wish to get to know me...
Unlike,
An image to fit.

I've received my independence,
With...
No problem with it.
And I've learned to not to resent,
Changes...
Manifested.
With,
No intercept...
To agree or, not to accept.

And I've learned to not to resent,
Changes...
Manifested.
With,
No intercept...
To agree or, not to accept.

Do you want to get to know,
What it is that makes me tick?
With a wish to get to know me...
Unlike,
An image to fit.

Do you want to get to know,
What it is that makes me tick?
With a wish to get to know me...
Unlike,
An image to fit.

I've received my independence,
With...
No problem with it.
And I've learned to not to resent,
Changes...
Manifested.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wind-Clouds And Star-Drifts

FROM THE YOUNG ASTRONOMER'S POEM

I.

AMBITION

ANOTHER clouded night; the stars are hid,
The orb that waits my search is hid with them.
Patience! Why grudge an hour, a month, a year,
To plant my ladder and to gain the round
That leads my footsteps to the heaven of fame,
Where waits the wreath my sleepless midnights won?
Not the stained laurel such as heroes wear
That withers when some stronger conqueror's heel
Treads down their shrivelling trophies in the dust;
But the fair garland whose undying green
Not time can change, nor wrath of gods or men!

With quickened heart-beats I shall hear tongues
That speak my praise; but better far the sense
That in the unshaped ages, buried deep
In the dark mines of unaccomplished time
Yet to be stamped with morning's royal die
And coined in golden days,--in those dim years
I shall be reckoned with the undying dead,
My name emblazoned on the fiery arch,
Unfading till the stars themselves shall fade.
Then, as they call the roll of shining worlds,
Sages of race unborn in accents new
Shall count me with the Olympian ones of old,
Whose glories kindle through the midnight sky
Here glows the God of Battles; this recalls
The Lord of Ocean, and yon far-off sphere
The Sire of Him who gave his ancient name
To the dim planet with the wondrous rings;
Here flames the Queen of Beauty's silver lamp,
And there the moon-girt orb of mighty Jove;
But this, unseen through all earth's ions past,
A youth who watched beneath the western star
Sought in the darkness, found, and shewed to men;
Linked with his name thenceforth and evermore
So shall that name be syllabled anew
In all the tongues of all the tribes of men:
I that have been through immemorial years
Dust in the dust of my forgotten time
Shall live in accents shaped of blood-warm breath,
Yea, rise in mortal semblance, newly born
In shining stone, in undecaying bronze,
And stand on high, and look serenely down
On the new race that calls the earth its own.

[...] Read more

poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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The Image

Written by: richard marx & fee waybill
Hope you dont believe a word
Of all the things I know youve heard about me
Really just a pack of ies
You see the truth before your eyes around me
Hard to keep it straight
The real from the ruse
Probably way too late
What can I do, but its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Would it be too much to ask
That you could just gvie me the chance to prove it
Or would it only be a waste of time
To try to make you change your mind and use it
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string

[...] Read more

song performed by Richard Marx
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Youth And Age

Verse, a Breeze 'mid blossoms straying,
Where HOPE clung feeding, like a bee--
Both were mine ! Life went a-maying
With NATURE, HOPE, and POESY,
[Image][Image]When I was young !

When I was young ?--Ah, woful WHEN !
Ah ! for the Change 'twixt Now and Then !
This breathing House not built with hands,
This body that does me grievous wrong,
O'er æry Cliffs and glittering Sands,
How lightly then it flashed along :--
Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,
On winding lakes and rivers wide,
That ask no aid of Sail or Oar,
That fear no spite of Wind or Tide !
Nought cared this Body for wind or weather
When YOUTH and I lived in't together.

FLOWERS are lovely ; LOVE is flower-like ;
FRIENDSHIP is a sheltering tree ;
O ! the Joys, that came down shower-like,
Of FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, and LIBERTY,
[Image] [Image] [Image] [Image] Ere I was old !

Ere I was old ? Ah woful ERE,
Which tells me, YOUTH'S no longer here !
O YOUTH ! for years so many and sweet,
'Tis known, that Thou and I were one,
I'll think it but a fond conceit--
It cannot be that Thou art gone !
Thy Vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd :--
And thou wert aye a Masker bold !
What strange Disguise hast now put on,
To make believe, that thou art gone ?
I see these Locks in silvery slips,
This drooping Gait, this altered Size :
But SPRINGTIDE blossoms on thy Lips,
And Tears take sunshine from thine eyes !
Life is but Thought : so think I will
That YOUTH and I are House-mates still.

Dew-drops are the gems of morning,
But the tears of mournful eve !
Where no hope is, life's a warning
That only serves to make us grieve,
[Image][Image]When we are old :

That only serves to make us grieve
With oft and tedious taking-leave,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Modern Love

I'm here to keep your lonely nights away
cheek to cheek I dance with you today
And the closer I get, the more I'm obsessed by you
And the further I go, the more I'm obsessed by you
You know that I meant what I said
I wanna see you from above
I wanna be left on the dancefloor
I wanna be the modern love
I'm here to keep your loneliness away
I'll be your drained lover if I may
And the further I go, the more I'm possessed by you
And the closer I get, the more I'm possessed by you
You know that I meant what I said
I wanna see you from above
I wanna be left on the dancefloor
I wanna be the modern love
The modern love
Drag me through the masses by the stage
erotic temptations within range
And the closer we get, the more you're obsessed by me
And the further we go, the more you're obsessed by me
You know that I meant what I said
I wanna see you from above
I wanna be left in the dancehall
I wanna be the modern love
The modern love
The modern love
I wanna be your modern love
The modern love
I wanna be your modern love
I'm the modern love

song performed by Yvonne
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An image so sublime

A room of peculiar imagery,
Sexually flushed to central perfection
Strobe light at instant still,
When dancing eyes glimmer at cursory glance,
To all standing walls that glaze,

An image of all time,
I am no curator with minds ablaze,
An image so sublime,
Crowned in cloudless clime.
An image that sparkles by lifeless glee,
That the dusk room and my wandering eyes might see,
Her dangling breast in motionless inhuman form,
Supple finger on damp blank palette,
Weary, idle mind to throb over incessant sensual call.

What an image so ordinary,
Like roses of sharp spine,
Royal in smell and hue,
An image more bright,
Less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazet.

A maelstrom in perfection,
Her mouth so bear,
With fluidity sorting my thoughts,
A sour smell at grieve harbinger,
An imagery of pouring dainties smell
Yet most quaint.
A vermilion odor at her hair pour
Passaged through floating breeze.

What an image,
An image long over-due for admiration,
A century of adulation to her beauteous whole.
Her sultry eyes,
Her naked primrose lips,
Her elegant face,
Her cereal face of laughter,
Her lanky legs,
Her larger than life breasts,
Her curvaceous bosom,
Her petal royal smell of skin,
To the gallery stand,
All to ashes now embraced,
That all eyes might again lust.

poem by Folayemi Akande
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Insomnia

Sleepless himself to give to others sleep.
He giveth His beloved sleep.

I HEARD the sounding of the midnight hour;
The others one by one had left the room,
In calm assurance that the gracious power
Of Sleep's fine alchemy would bless the gloom,
Transmuting all its leaden weight to gold,
To treasures of rich virtues manifold,
New strength, new health, new life;
Just weary enough to nestle softly, sweetly,
Into divine unconsciousness, completely
Delivered from the world of toil and care and strife.

Just weary enough to feel assured of rest,
Of Sleep's divine oblivion and repose,
Renewing heart and brain for richer zest
Of waking life when golden morning glows
As young and pure and glad as if the first
That ever on the void of darkness burst
With ravishing warmth and light;
On dewy grass and flowers and blithe birds singing
And shining waters, all enraptured springing,
Fragrance and shine and song, out of the womb of night.

But I with infinite weariness outworn,
Haggard with endless nights unblessed by sleep,
Ravaged by thoughts unutterably forlorn,
Plunged in despairs unfathomably deep,
Went cold and pale and trembling with affright
Into the desert vastitude of Night,
Arid and wild and black;
Foreboding no oasis of sweet slumber,
Counting beforehand all the countless number
Of sands that are its minutes on my desolate track.

And so I went, the last, to my drear bed,
Aghast as one who should go down to lie
Among the blissfully unconscious dead,
Assured that as the endless years flowed by
Over the dreadful silence and deep gloom
And dense oppression of the stifling tomb,
He only of them all,
Nerveless and impotent to madness, never
Could hope oblivion's perfect trance for ever:
An agony of life eternal in death's pall.

But that would be for ever, without cure! —
And yet the agony be not more great;
Supreme fatigue and pain, while they endure,

[...] Read more

poem by James Thomson
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