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The Divagator

You think my songs are strange.
I think they are myself.
I let my fancy range—
The divagating elf.

Don't say my songs are common.
For though my soul I seek
In every man and woman,
I want my songs unique.

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Every Man (And Woman)

if every man in America
could reach his own member
with his own mouth,
we wouldnt have a problem
with gay rights!

if every man and woman
in America knew they were
as responsible for their thoughts
as for their actions...
we'd all be on death row!

if every man and woman
in America spent as much time
trying to help their neighbors
as they spend trying to get ahead...
we'd all be taken care of!

if every man and woman
in America were color blind,
we'd have equality!

if every man and woman
in America were honest with
themselves, we'd have justice.

if every man and woman
in America got off their but
and on their feet
we could do something
about this mess!

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Do You Think 'They' Are Conscious Of It?

Why is it that some people are racists?

'For the same reason Zebras are black and white.'

But Zebras were born with their stripes.
Do you think any of them stay aware of it.
To go around making announcements,
As to which animals they dislike?

'Who knows?
Which color do you suppose they prefer? '

That probably depends,
Upon where they go...
With the getting of a needed attention.

'Do you think 'they' are conscious of it?
The others who are also different? '

Which ones?
They are all unique and different.
You mean the Elephants, the Tigers...
Lions, Hippos, Leopards?
Or the Monkeys, Chimpanzees or the Apes?
To me they all look the same.

'What about the Giraffes?
They are different than the Kangeroos.'

They probably look above all of that.
And besides...
Kangeroos are not of African descent.

'Do you think they harbor resentment because of it?
Because they too are different? '

The Kangeroos?

The racists.'

Maybe that's a reason why they refer to themselves,
As the 'majority'.

'Of what? '

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Man And Woman: A History


a man is frothing history
a woman is the coalescing undying past;
and together rolling as the beast with two backs
from murky undefined time
they roll further into the cloudy distance

each brings in memories
and traditions and nuances
and each comes with a constitution;
each comes conditioned
each manufactured in the same factory, and both struggle
and there is just whingeing all their lives

a man is labeled
a woman is branded
and they are manufactured in sperm factories
and completed in wombs
and both men and women are pushed into cold space

each draw on opinions
and hand-me-down scripts;
the man driven by dreams
the woman too;
and woman shaped by customs and passion
and the man too;
both damned in mortality
and no better in eternity

the woman needs to replicate
the man to mate and duplicate;
the woman needs to embrace with iron grip
and the man needs to bite, hurt and penetrate


there is the man and woman
and a geisha, or a lover
comes in between


a woman is history
a man is the past;
and together so rolling in from time
they roll further into the distance

a man is desire
and a woman is instinct
and together coming in from thoughts
they roll down like Jack and Jill
and there is just no end to their decline

each struggles with ambitions
and needs and expectations
the man desires, the woman wants
and both hide each other’s lies in the darkness of life

a woman’s mind is passed on
and the man’s ideas inherited;
and both wake to bitterness
and each dies in loneliness

and nature sees this struggle
and Nature laughs; Nature says:
I send you with blood and organs
and I send you with tools to procreate –
now, mate and multiply;
and nurture the new and becoming old, just die -
for I have no more use for you

man and woman
hear nature’s laugh
and invent lies;
they engender poets
who deliver sweet untruths:
love; immortality;
and immortal love…

and perhaps the time will come
when this history will have to be re-written
for with glass and genetic architecture
man may not need woman but to touch
woman may not need man but to hug
and infertile men will copulate with infertile women
and babies will blossom in ordered vases
and some androgynous blogger then will write:
man and woman: a useless pair

men and women are a driven pair;
and to console themselves
to keep their worth, dignity and sanity
they think they are independent
and endowed with autonomy

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For Every Man A Woman

For every man a woman some have been known to say
But in some places of one sex there's a shortage or so 'twould seem that way
And in some Towns some men don't have a woman and in some Towns some women don't have a man
And some without a partner have to live out their time span.

For every woman a man though that's not always the case
A batchelor or a spinster you will find in every place
In a place of a one sex shortage those who harbour self doubt
In their chatting up ability are those who do lose out.

And whether your name is Billy and whether your name is Sue
A man for every woman it is not always true
In places of a shortage of one sex some must lead a single life
Not for every woman a husband and not for every man a wife.

A man for every woman or vice versa to all does not apply
Some never do find a lasting love though hard enough they try
Some never have a partner and without a partner die
And for everyone there's someone in some cases is a lie.

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Why Do You Think They Call It Dope?

Warning, MC's stand back
You better take a chill and observe the skill
of the man who can, so understand god damn
I got a masterpiece a master plan and a brand new
way to attack the wack cut 'em down to size
to realize LL's back
Don't sleep I'm too sweet to repeat a beat
a lyric or rhyme I wouldn't waste your time
with weak words, that's for nerds, you never heard a rhyme
So you deserve a line rougher than rough enough is enough
I'm, gonna slaughter choke ya smoke ya like a sauna
You don't really wanna
But if you wanna battle on here's a lesson: stop 'fessin
I'm a lethal weapon, you better get to steppin
off the stage, and outta my face
You're too light ?? save the bass
Why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you why do you think they call it dope?
It seems like people-'ll never understand
On the microphone I'm not your average man
I cool out sometimes, I save my best rhymes
and then the toy boy thinks that he can come and get mine
Let your friends gas him up, talk trash and make bets
then gets played like those kids who tried to rob Goetz
You don't know what I'm sayin? Yo check it
Give me any microphone and god damnit I'll wreck it!
I'm coldblooded I'm about to mutilate
Last year before I left I told you to wait
But you couldn't stay loyal started goin astray
Thinkin Tom, Dick, and Harry can mess with Cool J
Is you crazy? I'm boomin, got the talent of two men
The stamina and skill in battle to kill a few men
The heart of a lion, the loyalty of a soldier
I wreck your whole mob then tell ya I told ya!
Why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you why do you think they call it dope?
Cause I don't jab around you, I come inside
Bob and weave, deceive until you get tongue tied
Brawl for all give a lyrical display
and next time you know better than to get in my way
"Yo whassup wit LL?
Will he ever make another 'Rock the Bells'?"
Yo brothers is comin up, "I think he's fallin off
I don't think he's still 'hard as hell'"
See, this is the attitude, of ignorant ones
cause they don't know, all them MC'sll get done
One or two might say, "Yo L'll be back"
but the rest they be suckin on SUGAR SMACKS
Talkin that crap about who's better than me
You think so? Just let a MC
make me mad enough, to really wanna battle
I put a L on his ass like he was cattle!
Why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you why do you think they call it dope?
Just cause I make a love song, or say a simple rhyme
"Boom, move over L, it's Miller Time"
I don't know whether to laugh, get ill or get wild
Cause brothers don't realize, I got so many styles
like triplin up the words, confusin all the nerds
Heard put my sights on mics and ?? flippin above the word
to the mother, no other
MC brother, can mess with Ladies Lover
I'm original, I'm bright under color
And when I get on the mic, yo I burn rubber
Can't stand criticism, give 'em an exorcism
Been rockin for years, now I have wisdom
The way I'm kickin the lines you can hear my tongue twist
and it'll have your neck spinnin like you're spineless
I'm pickin 'em up, throwin 'em down
Hypin 'em up and slowin 'em down
All of these words with only one tongue
Shakin 'em up and then bakin 'em up
Smash boom bash scrapin 'em up
Now you thought that was hard, I just begun
Cause I'm a roll on the microphone
And take control just like Al Capone
I'm notorious, you're foolish if you sleep on me
Cause I'm too slick to let a rapper get sweet on me
Try to make a move for my heavyweight belt
You get played like the Wizard of Oz witch, you melt
Yo I'm crazy dope, with super hype lines
and a lot of hype lines make one dope rhyme
Why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you why do you think they call it dope?
Cause that's what it is
Why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you think they call it dope?
[cutting and scratching "Straight from Queens" to the end]

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In every man and every girl

In every man and every girl
there’s a part
of the divine
and a part of darkness
that twists into each other.

Even people who are considered evil,
have got some good
and greatness in them.

Today we cannot understand
how thousands chose to follow Hitler
and how they thought
that there lives would become
still better yet beter
and how he could have been
good and great to them.

What we choose to do
and how we act
and the words that we say,
either displays the traits
of good or evil.

Even if we chase the good
by evil means,
no real good can ever
come from it
and just like real love
good is either really there
or not at all.

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As Man And Woman

Suddue it,
Fill the earth,
Follow the Laws and,
Increase and multiply! !
And, Yahweh Blessed them as man and woman.

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What for man and woman?

Woman is hearth and man is fire
There embrace is smoke.
Coitus is flame.
Pleasure is spark.
Emission is sacrifice
With orgasm as nectar
The result is birth.
But for this, what for
Did the God make man and woman?

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Man And Woman, Speaking And Listening

First and Second years
of marriage:
Man speaks; woman listens

Third and Fourth years
of marriage:
Woman speaks; Man listens

All Years of marriage after:
Man and Woman shout
and all the Neighbours listen

- Chapter S^^g87y
Ancient Wisdom Text of Man and Woman

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Man And Woman, Two Hands

Man and woman are half, half,
Not exact but asymmetrical.
Man and woman form a whole;
Together they tend the race.

Two men cannot form a whole
And not two women either,
Gays and lesbians to note.
Man and woman are stake and vine.

They are two hands: right and left.
Hands dont fight for supremacy.
They work for integrity.
Man and woman must learn from this.

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Man And Woman

Man - delusive
Woman, elusive
He feigns what he is not.
She fails to see what she is.
While he holds some charisma,
She remains an enigma.
He is steered by the head.
She, powered by the heart
He stamps
She struts,
When over ridden by pride
He oft gallops on the mare
And she wades through the mire.
He stings if angered.
She stoops if cajoled.
He is a sickle,
When she is so fickle

But Man and Woman together build life.

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It Makes You Think

It makes you think
What if one day you weren't found?
If you just didn't wake
If all they could see of you was under a mound
If your soul was God's to take
It makes you think
What if you lost everything you had ever known?
If it all just went away
If suddenly you were all alone
It will happen to you someday
It makes you think
What if you left your family and friends?
If you had no time to say goodbye
If you were not able to make amends
Or apologize for any lies
It makes you think
What if you left everyone you love?
If you went to some place you didn't know
Whether that place was up above
Or if it was down below
It makes you think
Some days you think you have had enough
Because you got some bad news
You want to give up on being tough
But people don't always get to choose
It makes you think
One day you might lose everything
It will all get left behind
You will be stuck with nothing
No one will know what went through your mind
It makes you think
Think about how your decision could affect others
How will they feel?
Do you think things would be better?
Do you think they will ever heal?
It makes you think

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Patrick White

I Wish Everyone In The World Were As Mad As You Are

I wish everyone in the world were as mad as you are.
I wish everyone in the world talked the same nonsense you do
and meant as much.
Stop crying.
I wish everyone in the world were as good as you are
and didn't lie to anyone else
other than themselves
about what the truth is.
You shape chaos to your mind
like light to space
to make a habitable planet you can live on
and if it isn't round sometimes
and O doesn't always cast the same shadow
that the others mimic with theirs
I wish everyone could put on your kind of airs
and be as good to life as the kind of atmosphere you are.
Come on now.
Dry your tears with this.
All those constellations you made up
out of the stars in your eyes
are your own private myths and mandalas
and you're free to change them as you will
and I wish everyone made as much
of the light they were given to go by
as you have.
I'm too much of a thorn
to paint the delicate iridescent watercolours
I see smeared on your tender bubbles
like original pictures of the universe
from a thousand spaced-out Hubbles
but I wish everyone in the world
had your kind of genius for vulnerability.
You hold up a single feather of light
like a candle among stars
like a green leaf in the middle of winter
and the world that is inured to three dimensions
for infinitely tedious reasons
would rather put its eyes out
and gape like blackholes
than see as you do
that there are countless seasons to the soul
that burn like a phoenix
and there's nowhere you can point to in the darkness
that isn't an equinox of love and understanding
when the sun shines at midnight
and spring harvests what the autumn sows.
Having a deep cosmic insight
like a stranger beyond lucidity
into the windows of the houses of your own zodiac
might make you look like a maniac to the neighbours
who keep watch in their asylum
against any kind of freedom
that might release them from their lighthouse
like a geni from a lamp
that doesn't conform to anyone's wishs but her own
but I wish everyone had the courage
you have not to be them.
Life isn't fair or unfair.
Life isn't kind or cruel.
It isn't half-Buddha and half-fool.
Neither impersonal
nor sentimental
life isn't a kind of obedience
to its own rules
as if it were bound like God to keep its word.
Or what?
Who else is there to answer to?
All the taboos want to be thresholds
and all the thresholds
want to run away from home.
Could be a curse.
Could be a blessing.
Could be just more idle words.
But you're not like that.
You're not a fountain mouth
that mistakes alphabets for birds
and holds them to the letter of the law
in a world full of music.
It's enlightenment to sing to a window.
It's ignorance to sing to a mirror.
But you don't sing to either
and your song is clear as running water
all the way down the mountain.
The picture-music
of your eyes and your ears
can already hear the ocean from here
that gathers to receive the flowing
like the heart receives blood
like the mind receives your thoughts.
Look out at the world.
You're the host.
Look inward.
You're the guest.
You can break bread with the dead
without being a ghost.
You can drink wine with the living
and it's the wine that gets high on you
flowing into a seabed of shadows on the moon
that hasn't touched a dropp for years.
Don't believe what the cynics say about innocence.
They have the sensibilities of blackflies
trying to draw blood from the Mona Lisa.
Don't grieve if you're a butterfly
that can't follow the flightplans of the maggots.
There's only a slight difference in wingspan
between a waterbird and a phoenix
but it would take lightyears
to measure a single feather of yours.
There's no cult of the rose
that insists it fall upon its own thorns first
or the moon draw first blood
on the blades of its own crescents.
You don't have to scar
your own deathmask with experience
just to prove you knew
how to eat the pain and bleed.
You don't have to wear your face in public
as if it were something you kept up your sleeve.
Dice might be the foundation-stones of the lost
but that doesn't mean
you have to go pearl-diving
for the moon in quicksand
or change your song like a jukebox
playing the slots
when you're a mermaid on the rocks.
I wish everyone had the same chance
to risk it all as you do
and win back their lives
like eleven come of seven
insteading of seeing everything
as if they were jinxed by inasuspicious birds
turning the wrong way on a prayer-wheel
that keeps coming up snake-eyes
with every roll of their skulls.
You can't heal the luck
of a wounded Nazi
by turning his swastika the other way.
You can't teach snakes to bite other people.
And you don't know enough
if there's anything left to say or understand
and even then there's a silence
that still longs to be heard
like a humming bird sipping honey from your ears
or deep in a telescopic wishing well of stars
burning in a dream of mirrors
they walk across
like fire on the water
or the distant blue notes
of the hidden nightbird
that echoes your tears
as if it were crying out in the darkness
from the safety of a secret place
for the same reasons you are.
As if it were trying to befriend its own sorrow
and weep for tomorrow as you do
for all the things of the past
it won't even know it's missing.
I wish everyone in the world
could live the future as you do
as something that is already happening now.
Even when you're crying
because you don't think you're brave enough
not to.
You're not a lame princess
that anyone needs to rescue.
You're a dragon bringing rain.
And if the snakepit hisses at you
like a social structure
and calls you insane sometimes
because you have wings
and they still hug the earth
all tied up in knots
taking their poisons out on each other
to keep from feeling anything
it's just their way of defining sanity
by the standards of the numbest.
It's not you that's crazy.
It's not you that's the dumbest.
I wish everyone in the world
were as warm-blooded and wise as you are.
When the serpent fire at the base of your spine
has passed through the doors
of all your chakras like vertebrae
and you're already a circumpolar constellation j
just a little off true north
shining like Draco
why worry if you're no good
at the game of snakes and ladders
they play like politics and religion back here on earth
to see who gets to be the pillar
and who the quicksand.
You understand way more than that.
I can tell by the fire in your eyes
that you're a phoenix among stars
and you've transcended the eagles and the houseflies
that can't even begin to imagine
the kind of heights you can reach to
or the depth of the view below you
when you're riding your own thermals
like beautiful helices in the mindstream
for the sheer joy of being only you.
Even now.
These tears
that run all the way down to your lips
as if water had fingertips
what are they
but the way you cry for things
that everyone else didn't?
I wish everyone in the world could be like you.
I wish you could teach us all
to stop living a spiritual lie
on the deathbed of an earthly truth
as if that were the only way
to foolproof ourselves
against reality
like a stranger looking through our windows at night
who doesn't recognize herself in us
because most of us aren't as brave and free as you are
to leave the door ajar
and let whatever wants to come in
come in.
Some track in mud.
And the mud flowers in light.
And the stars bloom in fire.
And one looks up
and the other looks down
on each other's likeness
reflected in the other
as if they were engendered by the same being.
Sight is a kind of love
and I wish everyone in the world
were inspired by the mystic dimensions
and intimate clarity of your kind of seeing
that even through these tears
that I'm not having much luck in wiping away
can comprehend a world
that's more wonderful than it thinks it is.

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Man and woman are nice

Heart is a sealed furnace
With cruelty stored in.
Face has a rear side
Coated with jealousy.
Love has its root beneath,
Which is made of hatred.
Garments are secrecy,
Well stitched and ironed.
Every man appears nice;
So does every woman.

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A Man and Woman

The Difference between a Man and a Woman;

When Man needs your silver hugs and caressing kisses,
Woman needs your mind as well.
When Man taunts your falls and misses
Woman shares a laughing spell.
When Man tells you all will be right
Woman tells you the mistake.
When Man starts leaving during fight
Woman sees through all that fake

Woman, with her knowing eyes and blowing hair
Man with muscles and puppy smile.
Woman with her bounty fair
Man's will last just for a while.

Which is better; man or woman?
woman or man?
Men are gifts we love to open, while women that we can save.

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Man To Woman

Girl, when the moon across the water starts to rise
Ill be looking for tomorrow and Ill see it in your eyes
Girl, though the strongest heartll shatter in a storm
Now we got this love that we can run to
Tonight, Ill keep you warm
Man to woman
When youre lying next to me
Man to woman
Girl youre everything I need
Hold on, well always be
Always you and me
Hold me close
Youre the nearest thing to heaven that Ive known
I can feel the fire that burns inside you
Look how this love has grown
Man to woman (man to woman)
Man to woman (man to woman)
Just say well always be
Always you and me
I wanna hold you in the night
Cant you see
That Im just livin for your light
I want the world to know
I cant let you go
Man to woman (man to woman)
Man to woman (man to woman)
I want the world to see
Baby what you mean to me

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Just Man Or Woman


Forced to live a human life,
filled with trouble, toil and strife,
called a Husband or a wife,
are we just Man or Woman?

Trapped inside a fleshy cage,
poked and prodded ‘till outrage,
labeled by both Fool and Sage,
who say, “Just Man or Woman”.

As the intellect grows old,
One discovers, or is told,
“all that glitters is not gold”
is there just Man and Woman?

Judged by BODY separately,
every human has to be,
him or Her, a He or She,
is MIND just Man or Woman?

MIND is an electric toy,
guiding BODY bold or coy,
it’s the same for Girl or Boy,
MIND’s not just Man or Woman.

All are SPIRITS trapped behind,
fleshy mass and scheduled MIND,
now and then there is a sign,
we’re not just Man or Woman.

Some human beings, ‘tho preset
to survive, and then beget, …
feel their SPIRIT and regret
they are just Man or Woman.

Those who wander from the trail,
will seek love to no avail,
they are doomed on earth to fail,
to join both Man and Woman.

Compliment was planned for all,
LOVE was given to enthrall
SPIRITS who accept the call
to love, just Man or Woman.

We are SPIRITS, YOU and ME,
seeking immortality,
LOVE’s a possibility,
If we’re just Man or Woman!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rhey W. Hedges, May 6,1973

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The Brown Dwarf of Rügen (From Narrative and Legendary Poems )

THE pleasant isle of Rügen looks the Baltic water o'er,
To the silver-sanded beaches of the Pomeranian shore;

And in the town of Rambin a little boy and maid
Plucked the meadow-flowers together and in the sea-surf played.

Alike were they in beauty if not in their degree:
He was the Amptman's first-born, the miller's child was she.

Now of old the isle of Rügen was full of Dwarfs and Trolls,
The brown-faced little Earth-men, the people without souls;

And for every man and woman in Rügen's island found
Walking in air and sunshine, a Troll was underground.

It chanced the little maiden, one morning, strolled away
Among the haunted Nine Hills, where the elves and goblins play.

That day, in barley fields below, the harvesters had known
Of evil voices in the air, and heard the small horns blown.

She came not back; the search for her in field and wood was vain:
They cried her east, they cried her west, but she came not again.

"She's down among the Brown Dwarfs," said the dream-wives wise and old,
And prayers were made, and masses said, and Rambin's church bell tolled.

Five years her father mourned her; and then John Deitrich said:
"I will find my little playmate, be she alive or dead."

He watched among the Nine Hills, he heard the Brown Dwarfs sing,
And saw them dance by moonlight merrily in a ring.

And when their gay-robed leader tossed up his cap of red,
Young Deitrich caught it as it fell, and thrust it on his head.

The Troll came crouching at his feet and wept for lack of it.
"Oh, give me back my magic cap, for your great head unfit!"

"Nay," Deitrich said; "the Dwarf who throws his charmëd cap away,
Must serve its finder at his will, and for his folly pay.

"You stole my pretty Lisbeth, and hid her in the earth;
And you shall ope the door of glass and let me lead her forth."

"She will not come; she's one of us; she's mine!" the Brown Dwarf said;
"The day is set, the cake is baked, to-morrow we shall wed."

"The fell fiend fetch thee!" Deitrich cried, "and keep thy foul tongue still.
Quick! open, to thy evil world, the glass door of the hill!"

The Dwarf obeyed; and youth and Troll down the long stairway passed,
And saw in dim and sunless light a country strange and vast.

Weird, rich, and wonderful, he saw the elfin under-land, --
Its palaces of precious stones, its streets of golden sand.

He came unto a banquet-hall with tables richly spread,
Where a young maiden served to him the red wine and the bread.

How fair she seemed among the Trolls so ugly and so wild!
Yet pale and very sorrowful, like one who never smiled!

Her low, sweet voice, her gold-brown hair, her tender blue eyes seemed
Like something he had seen elsewhere or something he had dreamed.

He looked; he clasped her in his arms; he knew the long-lost one;
"O Lisbeth! See thy playmate -- I am the Amptman's son!"

She leaned her fair head on his breast, and through her sobs she spoke:
"Oh, take me from this evil place, and from the elfin folk!

"And let me tread the grass-green fields and smell the flowers again,
And feel the soft wind on my cheek and hear the dropping rain!

"And oh, to hear the singing bird, the rustling of the tree,
The lowing cows, the bleat of sheep, the voices of the sea;

"And oh, upon my father's knee to set beside the door,
And hear the bell of vespers ring in Rambin church once more!"

He kissed her cheek, he kissed her lips; the Brown Dwarf groaned to see,
And tore his tangled hair and ground his long teeth angrily.

But Deitrich said: "For five long years this tender Christian maid
Has served you in your evil world, and well must she be paid!

"Haste! -- hither bring me precious gems, the richest in your store;
Then when we pass the gate of glass, you'll take your cap once more."

No choice was left the baffled Troll, and, murmuring, he obeyed,
And filled the pockets of the youth and apron of the maid.

They left the dreadful under-land and passed the gate of glass;
They felt the sunshine's warm caress, they trod the soft, green grass.

And when, beneath, they saw the Dwarf stretch up to them his brown
And crooked claw-like fingers, they tossed his red cap down.

Oh, never shone so bright a sun, was never sky so blue,
As hand in hand they homeward walked the pleasant meadows through!

And never sang the birds so sweet in Rambin's woods before,
And never washed the waves so soft along the Baltic shore;

And when beneath his door-yard trees the father met his child,
The bells rung out their merriest peal, the folks with joy ran wild.

And soon from Rambin's holy church the twain came forth as one,
The Amptman kissed a daughter, the miller blest a son.

John Deitrich's fame went far and wide, and nurse and maid crooned o'er
Their cradle song: "Sleep on, sleep well, the Trolls shall come no more!"

for in the haunted Nine Hills he set a cross of stone;
And Elf and Brown Dwarf sought in vain a door where door was none.

The tower he built in Rambin, fair Rügen's pride and boast,
Looked o'er the Baltic water to the Pomeranian coast;

And, for his worth ennobled, and rich beyond compare,
Count Deitrich and his lovely bride dwelt long and happy there.

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Worthier man and woman

She is such a woman
That women find her
Worthier than any woman
And men, the rarest of all women.
He is such a man
That men find him
Worthier than any man
And women, that the greatest of all.
She and he must be better match
But that really does not happen.

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Neither do I hate a man nor do I detest awoman
But I hate masculinity
Every man and woman is masculine
Because everyone suffers from hopes and fears
Every phallus and uterus expands and contracts
If there were no hope therewould be nothing to fear
There are as many heavens as there are men
The inscription at the gate of my heaven is_
Dante's hell is what my heaven is
I long for a world wherethey will not fear castration
We donot want strength Oh God we donot long for hope

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