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Frank Harris

There is a destiny that shapes our ends rough, hew them as we will.

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Give and Free It Up On The Rough Stuff

When I was hard,
It wasn't enough.
The sensitive and warm nice guy,
I had to give with no hint of the tough stuff.

I was the one who supplied the tenderness,
With touches.
Supplied I did the sweet kisses too!
You want it tough and rough and ready,
Through the weekends.
And all week until we get through too!

The sensitive and warm nice guy,
I had to be with no hint of the tough stuff.
You want it tough and rough and ready,
Through the weekends.
And all week until we get through too!

You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.
I like to get it and receive it with a tender touch.
I like to feel it getting heated with a whispered love.
I like to get it and receive it with a tender touch.
I like to feel it getting heated with a whispered love.
You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.

Free it up to give it up!
That rough stuff.
Free it up to give it up!
That rough stuff.
Free it up to give it up!
That rough stuff.
That rough stuff.
That rough stuff.

You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.
I like to get it and receive it with a tender touch.
I like to feel it getting heated with a whispered love.
I like to get it and receive it with a tender touch.
I like to feel it getting heated with a whispered love.
You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.

I was the one who supplied the tenderness,
With touches.
Supplied I did sweet kisses too!
You want it tough and rough and ready,
Through the weekends.
And all week until we get through too!

You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.
You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.

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Walt Whitman

Song Of The Broad-Axe

WEAPON, shapely, naked, wan!
Head from the mother's bowels drawn!
Wooded flesh and metal bone! limb only one, and lip only one!
Gray-blue leaf by red-heat grown! helve produced from a little seed
sown!
Resting the grass amid and upon,
To be lean'd, and to lean on.

Strong shapes, and attributes of strong shapes--masculine trades,
sights and sounds;
Long varied train of an emblem, dabs of music;
Fingers of the organist skipping staccato over the keys of the great
organ.


Welcome are all earth's lands, each for its kind; 10
Welcome are lands of pine and oak;
Welcome are lands of the lemon and fig;
Welcome are lands of gold;
Welcome are lands of wheat and maize--welcome those of the grape;
Welcome are lands of sugar and rice;
Welcome the cotton-lands--welcome those of the white potato and sweet
potato;
Welcome are mountains, flats, sands, forests, prairies;
Welcome the rich borders of rivers, table-lands, openings;
Welcome the measureless grazing-lands--welcome the teeming soil of
orchards, flax, honey, hemp;
Welcome just as much the other more hard-faced lands; 20
Lands rich as lands of gold, or wheat and fruit lands;
Lands of mines, lands of the manly and rugged ores;
Lands of coal, copper, lead, tin, zinc;
LANDS OF IRON! lands of the make of the axe!


The log at the wood-pile, the axe supported by it;
The sylvan hut, the vine over the doorway, the space clear'd for a
garden,
The irregular tapping of rain down on the leaves, after the storm is
lull'd,
The wailing and moaning at intervals, the thought of the sea,
The thought of ships struck in the storm, and put on their beam ends,
and the cutting away of masts;
The sentiment of the huge timbers of old-fashion'd houses and
barns; 30
The remember'd print or narrative, the voyage at a venture of men,
families, goods,
The disembarkation, the founding of a new city,
The voyage of those who sought a New England and found it--the outset
anywhere,
The settlements of the Arkansas, Colorado, Ottawa, Willamette,

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Rough Housin'

Gettin' loose at the corner joint
That's all we had to do
I said baby, when you cross that floor
I sense trouble in the room
And we were rough housin'
Seemed the thing to do
We were rough housin'
Different points of view
Fancy free, lookin' hot and lean
Most any man's desire
I said baby, when you looked my way
You know you set my blood on fire
And we were rough housin'
On account of you
We were rough housin'
We were fightin' fools
Satisfaction guaranteed
That's the kind of man I am
I said baby, won't you pardon me
But I hope you'll understand
'Cause we'll be rough housin'
Seemed the thing to do
We'll be rough housin'
Different points of view
Yeah, we'll be rough housin'
On account of you
We'll be rough housin'
We were fightin' fools
Rough housin', rough housin'
We'll be rough housin'
Rough housin', rough housin', rough housin'
We'll be rough housin'
Rough housin', rough housin', rough housin',
We'll be rough housin'
~Don Barnes/Larry Steele/Donnie Van Zant

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Double Helix Abecedarian - Xylophonic Resonance He Licks Enigmatic

XYLOPHONIC RESONANCE HE LICKS ENIGMATIC
Kindly refer to notes. and see Temptations and Poetic Pizza Extravaganza below :)

Xylophonic Resonance
double helix abecedarian

The first line begins with A and ends with Z
the next line begins with Z and ends with A
The next line begins with B and ends with Y
The next line begins with Y and ends with B
The next line begins with C and ends with X
The next line begins with X and ends with C

A to Z top down A to Z bottom up



All fizzle, finish frazzled, launched with fizZ.
Zero dreams teem when spirit seems at seA
Because most adepts of philosophY
Yearn for zenith seldom dwell on ebB,
Carpe diem value, seeking sea, sun, seX.
Xylem tree of life’s cannibalistiC
Desires corrupt deeds most men seW,
With survival’s urge soon lost indeeD.
Events churn causal patterns, AsimoV
Viewed clearly, took as starship journey cuE
Finding worlds which may appeal to yoU,
Unknown reader from beyond Time’s gulF -
Great divide between those past, those lefT -
Time travellers peruse these lines to sinG
High praise of poets who’ll know no more springS.
Spontaneousl prose poem picks pensive patH
In patter pattern, feet dance to empoweR.
Rhythm harmonious, need no alibI,
Joins sense, style versatile, from mind's H.Q.,
Questions seeks, finds answers. Soujourn’s hadJ
Knowledge acquires to share more than to keeP,
Pipes clear to others drifting through the darK.
Lark sings dawn’s welcome song, and each man’s taO
Opens connections, on life’s sea a-saiL
Ma d, sad, glad, bad, for threescore years and teN
Never certain of his mortal aiM,
Nor sure to gain posthumous fame, acclaiM,
Making ends meet in hope to rise agaiN
On judgement day should trust and faith prevaiL.
Life-spans increase but trite hullabaloO
Prepares too few for winding sheet, corpse starK,

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Fate and Destiny

Fate and Destiny

Who can tell us what Fate and Destiny are?
Who can tell us what our Fate is?
Who can tell us what our Destiny is?
Fate. Destiny.
People say we cannot choose our Fate, but we can choose our Destiny.
People say we are Fated or Destined to do/become something.
Fate. Destiny.
Are they different?
Are they the same?
People say we can choose Destiny and we are Fated to do it.
People say that our Destiny is open, but our Fate is sealed.
Are Fate and Destiny the same?
If our Destiny has yet to be chosen but our Fate is sealed, then is not our Destiny already chosen, but unseen to us until the opportune moment?
Fate. Destiny.
When is the opportune moment?
At what point in our life will our Fate and Destiny be revealed?
Or will we realize what our Fate and Destiny are only when it is too late?
Or will we pass our Fate and Destiny without knowing it?
Fate. Destiny.
If someone tells us what our Fate and Destiny are, will we like what we hear?
Or will you strive against the path set before you?

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Edmund Spenser

The Faerie Queene, Book III, Canto VI

THE THIRD BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QUEENE
Contayning
THE LEGENDE OF BRITOMARTIS
OR OF CHASTITIECANTO VI
The birth of faire Belphoebe and
Of Amoret is told.
The Gardins of Adonis fraught
With pleasures manifold.


i
Well may I weene, faire Ladies, all this while
Ye wonder, how this noble Damozell
So great perfections did in her compile,
Sith that in salvage forests she did dwell,
So farre from court and royall Citadell,
The great schoolmistresse of all curtesy:
Seemeth that such wild woods should far expell
All civill usage and gentility,
And gentle sprite deforme with rude rusticity.

ii

But to this faire Belphoebe in her berth
The heavens so favourable were and free,
Looking with myld aspect upon the earth,
In th'Horoscope of her nativitee,
That all the gifts of grace and chastitee
On her they poured forth of plenteous horne;
Jove laught on Venus from his soveraigne see,
And Phoebus with faire beames did her adorne,
And all the Graces rockt her cradle being borne.

iii

Her berth was of the wombe of Morning dew,
And her conception of the joyous Prime,
And all her whole creation did her shew
Pure and unspotted from all loathly crime,
That is ingenerate in fleshly slime.
So was this virgin borne, so was she bred,
So was she trayned up from time to time,
In all chast vertue, and true bounti-hed
Till to her dew perfection she was ripened.

iv

Her mother was the faire Chrysogonee,
The daughter of Amphisa, who by race
A Faerie was, yborne of high degree,

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Watching For Shapes

Written by ricky & marty wilde
Influences now are things that are all around me
Changing shape as they move around in an open mind
Coloured in by the images I find
Im just watching for shapes that grow
Im just watching for shapes that grow
(watching for shapes that grow)
Like electric sparks they danced by an open mirror
Closing doors never looking round but its not goodbye
Theyll be there till Im taken out I know
Im just watching for shapes that grow
Im just watching for shapes that grow
(watching for shapes that grow)
In my mind theres a space thats full of painted pictures
Things I did that I went through, but cant recall
Now and then theres a flash of the unknown
Im just watching for shapes that grow
Im just watching for shapes that grow
(watching for shapes that grow)
(watching for shapes that grow)
(watching for shapes that grow)

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Rough God Goes Riding

Oh the mud splattered victims
Have to pay out all along the ancient highway
Torn between half truth and victimisation
Fighting back with counter attacks
Its when that rough God goes riding
When the rough God goes gliding
And then rough God goes riding
Riding on in
I was flabbergasted by the headlines
People in glasshouses throwing stones
Gaping wounds that will never heal
Now theyre moaning like a dog in a manger
Its when that rough God goes riding
And then the rough God goes gliding
Therell be nobody hiding
When that rough God comes riding on in
And its a matter of survival
When youre born with your back against the wall
Wont somebody hand me a bible
Wont you give me that number to call
When that rough God goed riding
And then that rough God goes gliding
Theyll be nobody hiding
When that rough God goes riding on in
Riding on in
When that rough God goed riding
When that rough God goes gliding
Therell be nobody hiding
When that rough God goes riding on in
Riding on in
Therell be no more heroes
Theyll be reduced to zero
When that rough God goes riding
Riding on in
Riding on in
Riding on in
Riding on in

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American Girls

Darling, Im afraid to close my eyes when Im going to bed
Im afraid youll crack the phone down over my head
Why are all american girls so rough?
Damn, that girl cant ever hurt you enough
Lady (lady), you knock me on my knees and I cant stand up
You got the look in your eye and you smack my butt
Why are all american girls so rough?
Why do all american girls act so tough?
Why are all american girls so rough?
Darling, Im afraid to close my eyes when Im goin to bed
Im afraid youll crack the phone down over my head
Why are all american girls so rough?
Damn, that girl cant ever hurt you enough
Lady (lady), you knock me on my knees and I cant stand up
You got that look in your eye and you smack my butt
Why are all american girls so rough?
Why do all american girls act so tough?
Why are all american girls so rough?
That hole youre digging in my ribs
It aint no real wound
So baby take it easy
Lets try to be friends
Why are all american girls so rough?
Damn, that girl cant ever hurt you enough
Lady (lady), you knock me down on my knees and I cant stand up
You got the look in your eye, you smack my butt
Why are all american girls so rough?
Why do all american girls act so tough?
Why are all american girls so rough?
American girls
American girls
Why are all american girls so rough?
American girls
American girls
American girls
Why are all american girls so rough?
American girls
American girls
American girls
Why are all american girls so rough?
Why are all american girls so rough?

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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

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As Destiny Unfolds

There is always a choice to make
When two paths merge and life takes a break
For a split second, all things are one
As destiny and chaos collide once more

When two paths merge and life takes a break
No one will warn you that it is already to late
To change the path you have taken
As destiny and chaos collide once more

For a split second, all things are one
In that moment, you realize God will not be outdone
This place and time will no longer exist
As destiny and chaos collide once more

No one will warn you it is already too late
The first man and woman sealed your fate
Nothing can stop what was meant to be
As destiny and chaos collide once more

To change the path you have taken
The original spirit must reawaken
To be forsaken was never part of the master plan
As destiny and chaos collide once more

In that moment, you realize God will not be outdone
By now you realize that life is not a dry run
No second chances are guaranteed
As destiny and chaos collide once more

This place and time will no longer exist
And mankind is summarily dismissed
For failing to exercise discipline and reproof
As destiny and chaos collide once more

The first man and woman sealed your fate
The choice is no longer yours to make
What you do now is fruit of the poisonous tree
As destiny and chaos collide once more

Nothing can stop what was meant to be
Two paths have merged into life’s potpourri
The world is filled with to much hate
As destiny and chaos collide once more

The original spirit must reawaken
Or those waiting for the rapture will not be taken
It will all be for not in the end
As destiny and chaos collide once more

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Your Racist Friend

This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to you
And your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
And your racist friend
It was the loveliest party that Ive ever attended
If anything was broken Im sure it could be mended
My head cant tolerate this bobbing and pretending
Listen to some bullet-head and the madness that hes saying
This is where the party ends
Ill just sit here wondering how you
Can stand by your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
You and your racist friend
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to you
And your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
And your racist friend
Out from the kitchen to the bedroom to the hallway
Your friend apologizes, he could see it my way
He let the contents of the bottle do the thinking
Cant shake the devils hand and say youre only kidding
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to you
And your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
And your racist friend
Notes
Most alternate versions are very similar. the farthest removed is the extended mix dial-a-song version:
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here wondering how you
Can stand by your racist friend
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here wondering how you
Can stand by your racist friend
It was the loveliest party
That Ive ever attended
If anything got broken
Im sure it could be mended
But my head cant stand this bobbin and pretendin
Tolerate some bullethead and the bullshit that hes sayin
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to your
Your racist friend
This is where the party ends

[...] Read more

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Keep looking for loose ends; Keep alive and kicking

Keep looking for loose ends, Keep alive and kicking

The very essence of survival among
All living systems lies in the
Locating of loose ends and fixing them adequately

Making of another million
May be one’s loose end while
Winning the next meal
May be that of some one else
Growth of his industrial empire
May be the loose end of an entrepreneur, while
Moving on to the next stage in the spiritual path
May be that of someone different
Getting a loan for building own accommodation
May be some other’s loose end while
Paying back the availed loan
May be the loose end of a third other person
Keeping in tact his political position and
Getting a suitable placemen
May be other loose ends, which are common
Building a new nest may be a bird’s loose end while
Snatching the next prey may be a tiger’s loose end

Thus all are after loose ends

The fact is that locating a loose end is not really the end
As loose ends by themselves are no issues
Loose ends get entangled and invite
New and unknown complications

Some know their loose ends
They seemingly do not think or act on these
May be they are confident of meeting the resultant
Complications effectively and adequately

Some are lost in worrying over the complications
And they find no time to fix loose ends
Loose ends remain loose anytime to blow up
With unexpected implications

It is indeed, the desire that fix loose ends
This desire leads these people as how to fix them
They act on the knowledge and secure loose ends

Loose ends are really fixed by
Emotion-free and knowledge-based actions

So,

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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

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The City of Dreadful Night

Per me si va nella citta dolente.

--Dante

Poi di tanto adoprar, di tanti moti
D'ogni celeste, ogni terrena cosa,
Girando senza posa,
Per tornar sempre la donde son mosse;
Uso alcuno, alcun frutto
Indovinar non so.

Sola nel mondo eterna, a cui si volve
Ogni creata cosa,
In te, morte, si posa
Nostra ignuda natura;
Lieta no, ma sicura
Dell' antico dolor . . .
Pero ch' esser beato
Nega ai mortali e nega a' morti il fato.

--Leopardi

PROEM

Lo, thus, as prostrate, "In the dust I write
My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears."
Yet why evoke the spectres of black night
To blot the sunshine of exultant years?
Why disinter dead faith from mouldering hidden?
Why break the seals of mute despair unbidden,
And wail life's discords into careless ears?

Because a cold rage seizes one at whiles
To show the bitter old and wrinkled truth
Stripped naked of all vesture that beguiles,
False dreams, false hopes, false masks and modes of youth;
Because it gives some sense of power and passion
In helpless innocence to try to fashion
Our woe in living words howe'er uncouth.

Surely I write not for the hopeful young,
Or those who deem their happiness of worth,
Or such as pasture and grow fat among
The shows of life and feel nor doubt nor dearth,
Or pious spirits with a God above them
To sanctify and glorify and love them,
Or sages who foresee a heaven on earth.

For none of these I write, and none of these
Could read the writing if they deigned to try;

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In the eyes of my beloved

As I tried to decipher my destiny in the eyes of the horrendously slithering crocodile; confronting him face on beside the marshy swamps,
All I saw was a life blended consisting of savage deeds compounded with profound animosity; and before I could ask him a volley of questions; he gobbled me like mincemeat with his knife like jaws.

As I tried to cognize my destiny in the eyes of a frivolous chimpanzee; patting him gently on his back,
All I saw was an aboriginal life of leaping voraciously on trees; inexorably masticating a meal of succulent banana; unable to go to school like humans do.

As I tried to perceive my destiny in the eyes of the hideous lizard; blowing my breath in gasps on its serrated skinned body,
All I saw was a bleak future devouring scores of slimy insects; spending the remainder of my life in realms of despondency and circumspection.

As I tried to envisage my destiny in the eyes of a pernicious vulture; sitting in close proximity with its monstrous sized eggs,
All I saw was a brutal life plucking decayed carrion from the flesh of lifeless bodies; scaring innocuous creatures in the sky with my dreaded persona.

As I tried to visualize my destiny in the eyes of a grizzly bear; riding on his furry back through the snow clad mountains,
All I saw was a shivering life in the freezing winds; a future in which there would be absolutely no sun in the cosmos to sight.

As I tried to conceive my destiny in the eyes of a potbellied tortoise; forcing him to extrude out his slender neck,
All I saw was a life full of indolence blended with languid ease; without budging a solitary inch for years on the trot.

As I tried to speculate my destiny in the eyes of a hunch backed camel; endeavoring to caress its slimy nose,
All I saw was a life full of confronting sweltering sandstorms; consuming scraggy cactus for morning breakfast as well as nocturnal supper.

As I tried to discern my destiny in the eyes of mammoth dinosaur; standing like an inconspicuous mosquito on the ground,
All I saw was a life replete with barbaric domination; and before I could even realize; he instantaneously pulverized me to saw dust under his diabolical feet.

As I tried to contemplate my destiny in the eyes of a scintillating dolphin; floating beside it in the swirling ocean,
All I saw was a life diving acrobatically in the waters; occasionally being eaten by the preposterously huge white shark.

As I tried to comprehend my destiny in the eyes of a cold blooded murderer; standing in the firing range of his gleaming revolver,
All I saw was a life assassinating innocuous individuals; coating my palms with their innocent blood.

And eventually as I tried to imagine my destiny in the eyes of my beloved; I felt submerged in waves of unprecedented euphoria,
And it was here that I saw my life the most beautiful; the most ravishing; the most exhilarating out of all of my previous lives; and I discovered a host of blissfully fulfilling purposes to live.


(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.

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Where The Sidewalk Ends

Where the sidewalk ends
And the road begins
We said good bye
On a cold dark night
Im not afraid to go
You bet Im not
Where the sidewalk ends
You left a lot
Some people leave
And never come back
Some stay in touch
Some loose track
Your mind kept sayin
Come on lets go
You started learnin
What you dont need to know
Where the sidewalk ends
And the road begins
Ill wait for you
In the cold dark night
You might come back
You had to go
Where the sidewalk ends
Ill never know
Hide from the future
Run from the past
I guess Ill stay here
As long as I can last
Whistle still blowin
But the train is gone
Aint no wheels
Gonna take me from my home
Where the sidewalk ends
And the road begins
We said good bye
On a cold dark night
Im not afraid to go
You bet Im not
Where the sidewalk ends
You left a lot
Im not afraid to go
You bet Im not
Where the sidewalk ends
You left a lot
Where the sidewalk ends
And the road begins
We said good bye
On a cold dark night
Im not afraid to go
You bet Im not

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Book Seventh [Residence in London]

SIX changeful years have vanished since I first
Poured out (saluted by that quickening breeze
Which met me issuing from the City's walls)
A glad preamble to this Verse: I sang
Aloud, with fervour irresistible
Of short-lived transport, like a torrent bursting,
From a black thunder-cloud, down Scafell's side
To rush and disappear. But soon broke forth
(So willed the Muse) a less impetuous stream,
That flowed awhile with unabating strength,
Then stopped for years; not audible again
Before last primrose-time. Beloved Friend!
The assurance which then cheered some heavy thoughts
On thy departure to a foreign land
Has failed; too slowly moves the promised work.
Through the whole summer have I been at rest,
Partly from voluntary holiday,
And part through outward hindrance. But I heard,
After the hour of sunset yester-even,
Sitting within doors between light and dark,
A choir of redbreasts gathered somewhere near
My threshold,--minstrels from the distant woods
Sent in on Winter's service, to announce,
With preparation artful and benign,
That the rough lord had left the surly North
On his accustomed journey. The delight,
Due to this timely notice, unawares
Smote me, and, listening, I in whispers said,
'Ye heartsome Choristers, ye and I will be
Associates, and, unscared by blustering winds,
Will chant together.' Thereafter, as the shades
Of twilight deepened, going forth, I spied
A glow-worm underneath a dusky plume
Or canopy of yet unwithered fern,
Clear-shining, like a hermit's taper seen
Through a thick forest. Silence touched me here
No less than sound had done before; the child
Of Summer, lingering, shining, by herself,
The voiceless worm on the unfrequented hills,
Seemed sent on the same errand with the choir
Of Winter that had warbled at my door,
And the whole year breathed tenderness and love.

The last night's genial feeling overflowed
Upon this morning, and my favourite grove,
Tossing in sunshine its dark boughs aloft,
As if to make the strong wind visible,
Wakes in me agitations like its own,
A spirit friendly to the Poet's task,
Which we will now resume with lively hope,

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The Flower And The Leaf

When that Phebus his chaire of gold so hy
Had whirled up the sterry sky aloft,
And in the Bole was entred certainly;
Whan shoures swete of rain discended soft,
Causing the ground, felë tymes and oft,
Up for to give many an hoolsom air,
And every plain was [eek y-]clothed fair

With newe grene, and maketh smalë floures
To springen here and there in feld and mede;
So very good and hoolsom be the shoures
That it reneweth, that was old and deede
In winter-tyme; and out of every seede
Springeth the herbë, so that every wight
Of this sesoun wexeth [ful] glad and light.

And I, só glad of the seson swete,
Was happed thus upon a certain night;
As I lay in my bed, sleep ful unmete
Was unto me; but, why that I ne might
Rest, I ne wist; for there nas erthly wight,
As I suppose, had more hertës ese
Than I, for I n'ad siknesse nor disese.

Wherfore I mervail gretly of my-selve,
That I so long, withouten sleepë lay;
And up I roos, three houres after twelve,
About the [very] springing of the day,
And on I put my gere and myn array;
And to a plesaunt grovë I gan passe,
Long or the brightë sonne uprisen was,

In which were okës grete, streight as a lyne,
Under the which the gras, so fresh of hew,
Was newly spronge; and an eight foot or nyne
Every tree wel fro his felawe grew,
With braunches brode, laden with leves new,
That sprongen out ayein the sonnë shene,
Som very rede, and som a glad light grene;

Which, as me thought, was right a plesaunt sight.
And eek the briddes song[ës] for to here
Would have rejoised any erthly wight.
And I, that couth not yet, in no manere,
Here the nightingale of al the yere,
Ful busily herkned, with herte and ere,
If I her voice perceive coud any-where.

And at the last, a path of litel brede
I found, that gretly had not used be,

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