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X-Monoku-I am

I am a finite being and I am what I am not yet.

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To Protect Their Well Being and National Interests

Even though everyone has seen this,
As a boulder falling upon their heads.
It has been requested that we describe it...
As a brief interruption of communicated ideas!

And those unfortunately crushed by the boulder...
Are to be referred to as being deep in interpretive expression!
Thereby,
Using the press releases as a means to avoid public outrage.
That could escalate into a misunderstanding of our journalistic pride...
Interferring with our corporate sponsors decisions,
To further use our 'medium' with added financial backing.
In support of their candidates in the upcoming elections!

We must not lose the confidence of the people,
However.
And they must embrace this as a means,
In our efforts...
To protect their well being and national interests.
This they must accept,
As vital to our bonus and pension plan programs...
Offered to our top excutives!

Once this is clarified and explained...
There should be total comprehension.

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Pelleas And Ettarre

King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap
Left by the Holy Quest; and as he sat
In hall at old Caerleon, the high doors
Were softly sundered, and through these a youth,
Pelleas, and the sweet smell of the fields
Past, and the sunshine came along with him.

`Make me thy knight, because I know, Sir King,
All that belongs to knighthood, and I love.'
Such was his cry: for having heard the King
Had let proclaim a tournament--the prize
A golden circlet and a knightly sword,
Full fain had Pelleas for his lady won
The golden circlet, for himself the sword:
And there were those who knew him near the King,
And promised for him: and Arthur made him knight.

And this new knight, Sir Pelleas of the isles--
But lately come to his inheritance,
And lord of many a barren isle was he--
Riding at noon, a day or twain before,
Across the forest called of Dean, to find
Caerleon and the King, had felt the sun
Beat like a strong knight on his helm, and reeled
Almost to falling from his horse; but saw
Near him a mound of even-sloping side,
Whereon a hundred stately beeches grew,
And here and there great hollies under them;
But for a mile all round was open space,
And fern and heath: and slowly Pelleas drew
To that dim day, then binding his good horse
To a tree, cast himself down; and as he lay
At random looking over the brown earth
Through that green-glooming twilight of the grove,
It seemed to Pelleas that the fern without
Burnt as a living fire of emeralds,
So that his eyes were dazzled looking at it.
Then o'er it crost the dimness of a cloud
Floating, and once the shadow of a bird
Flying, and then a fawn; and his eyes closed.
And since he loved all maidens, but no maid
In special, half-awake he whispered, `Where?
O where? I love thee, though I know thee not.
For fair thou art and pure as Guinevere,
And I will make thee with my spear and sword
As famous--O my Queen, my Guinevere,
For I will be thine Arthur when we meet.'

Suddenly wakened with a sound of talk
And laughter at the limit of the wood,
And glancing through the hoary boles, he saw,
Strange as to some old prophet might have seemed
A vision hovering on a sea of fire,
Damsels in divers colours like the cloud
Of sunset and sunrise, and all of them
On horses, and the horses richly trapt
Breast-high in that bright line of bracken stood:
And all the damsels talked confusedly,
And one was pointing this way, and one that,
Because the way was lost.

And Pelleas rose,
And loosed his horse, and led him to the light.
There she that seemed the chief among them said,
`In happy time behold our pilot-star!
Youth, we are damsels-errant, and we ride,
Armed as ye see, to tilt against the knights
There at Caerleon, but have lost our way:
To right? to left? straight forward? back again?
Which? tell us quickly.'

Pelleas gazing thought,
`Is Guinevere herself so beautiful?'
For large her violet eyes looked, and her bloom
A rosy dawn kindled in stainless heavens,
And round her limbs, mature in womanhood;
And slender was her hand and small her shape;
And but for those large eyes, the haunts of scorn,
She might have seemed a toy to trifle with,
And pass and care no more. But while he gazed
The beauty of her flesh abashed the boy,
As though it were the beauty of her soul:
For as the base man, judging of the good,
Puts his own baseness in him by default
Of will and nature, so did Pelleas lend
All the young beauty of his own soul to hers,
Believing her; and when she spake to him,
Stammered, and could not make her a reply.
For out of the waste islands had he come,
Where saving his own sisters he had known
Scarce any but the women of his isles,
Rough wives, that laughed and screamed against the gulls,
Makers of nets, and living from the sea.

Then with a slow smile turned the lady round
And looked upon her people; and as when
A stone is flung into some sleeping tarn,
The circle widens till it lip the marge,
Spread the slow smile through all her company.
Three knights were thereamong; and they too smiled,
Scorning him; for the lady was Ettarre,
And she was a great lady in her land.

Again she said, `O wild and of the woods,
Knowest thou not the fashion of our speech?
Or have the Heavens but given thee a fair face,
Lacking a tongue?'

`O damsel,' answered he,
`I woke from dreams; and coming out of gloom
Was dazzled by the sudden light, and crave
Pardon: but will ye to Caerleon? I
Go likewise: shall I lead you to the King?'

`Lead then,' she said; and through the woods they went.
And while they rode, the meaning in his eyes,
His tenderness of manner, and chaste awe,
His broken utterances and bashfulness,
Were all a burthen to her, and in her heart
She muttered, `I have lighted on a fool,
Raw, yet so stale!' But since her mind was bent
On hearing, after trumpet blown, her name
And title, `Queen of Beauty,' in the lists
Cried--and beholding him so strong, she thought
That peradventure he will fight for me,
And win the circlet: therefore flattered him,
Being so gracious, that he wellnigh deemed
His wish by hers was echoed; and her knights
And all her damsels too were gracious to him,
For she was a great lady.

And when they reached
Caerleon, ere they past to lodging, she,
Taking his hand, `O the strong hand,' she said,
`See! look at mine! but wilt thou fight for me,
And win me this fine circlet, Pelleas,
That I may love thee?'

Then his helpless heart
Leapt, and he cried, `Ay! wilt thou if I win?'
`Ay, that will I,' she answered, and she laughed,
And straitly nipt the hand, and flung it from her;
Then glanced askew at those three knights of hers,
Till all her ladies laughed along with her.

`O happy world,' thought Pelleas, `all, meseems,
Are happy; I the happiest of them all.'
Nor slept that night for pleasure in his blood,
And green wood-ways, and eyes among the leaves;
Then being on the morrow knighted, sware
To love one only. And as he came away,
The men who met him rounded on their heels
And wondered after him, because his face
Shone like the countenance of a priest of old
Against the flame about a sacrifice
Kindled by fire from heaven: so glad was he.

Then Arthur made vast banquets, and strange knights
From the four winds came in: and each one sat,
Though served with choice from air, land, stream, and sea,
Oft in mid-banquet measuring with his eyes
His neighbour's make and might: and Pelleas looked
Noble among the noble, for he dreamed
His lady loved him, and he knew himself
Loved of the King: and him his new-made knight
Worshipt, whose lightest whisper moved him more
Than all the rangd reasons of the world.

Then blushed and brake the morning of the jousts,
And this was called `The Tournament of Youth:'
For Arthur, loving his young knight, withheld
His older and his mightier from the lists,
That Pelleas might obtain his lady's love,
According to her promise, and remain
Lord of the tourney. And Arthur had the jousts
Down in the flat field by the shore of Usk
Holden: the gilded parapets were crowned
With faces, and the great tower filled with eyes
Up to the summit, and the trumpets blew.
There all day long Sir Pelleas kept the field
With honour: so by that strong hand of his
The sword and golden circlet were achieved.

Then rang the shout his lady loved: the heat
Of pride and glory fired her face; her eye
Sparkled; she caught the circlet from his lance,
And there before the people crowned herself:
So for the last time she was gracious to him.

Then at Caerleon for a space--her look
Bright for all others, cloudier on her knight--
Lingered Ettarre: and seeing Pelleas droop,
Said Guinevere, `We marvel at thee much,
O damsel, wearing this unsunny face
To him who won thee glory!' And she said,
`Had ye not held your Lancelot in your bower,
My Queen, he had not won.' Whereat the Queen,
As one whose foot is bitten by an ant,
Glanced down upon her, turned and went her way.

But after, when her damsels, and herself,
And those three knights all set their faces home,
Sir Pelleas followed. She that saw him cried,
`Damsels--and yet I should be shamed to say it--
I cannot bide Sir Baby. Keep him back
Among yourselves. Would rather that we had
Some rough old knight who knew the worldly way,
Albeit grizzlier than a bear, to ride
And jest with: take him to you, keep him off,
And pamper him with papmeat, if ye will,
Old milky fables of the wolf and sheep,
Such as the wholesome mothers tell their boys.
Nay, should ye try him with a merry one
To find his mettle, good: and if he fly us,
Small matter! let him.' This her damsels heard,
And mindful of her small and cruel hand,
They, closing round him through the journey home,
Acted her hest, and always from her side
Restrained him with all manner of device,
So that he could not come to speech with her.
And when she gained her castle, upsprang the bridge,
Down rang the grate of iron through the groove,
And he was left alone in open field.

`These be the ways of ladies,' Pelleas thought,
`To those who love them, trials of our faith.
Yea, let her prove me to the uttermost,
For loyal to the uttermost am I.'
So made his moan; and darkness falling, sought
A priory not far off, there lodged, but rose
With morning every day, and, moist or dry,
Full-armed upon his charger all day long
Sat by the walls, and no one opened to him.

And this persistence turned her scorn to wrath.
Then calling her three knights, she charged them, `Out!
And drive him from the walls.' And out they came
But Pelleas overthrew them as they dashed
Against him one by one; and these returned,
But still he kept his watch beneath the wall.

Thereon her wrath became a hate; and once,
A week beyond, while walking on the walls
With her three knights, she pointed downward, `Look,
He haunts me--I cannot breathe--besieges me;
Down! strike him! put my hate into your strokes,
And drive him from my walls.' And down they went,
And Pelleas overthrew them one by one;
And from the tower above him cried Ettarre,
`Bind him, and bring him in.'

He heard her voice;
Then let the strong hand, which had overthrown
Her minion-knights, by those he overthrew
Be bounden straight, and so they brought him in.

Then when he came before Ettarre, the sight
Of her rich beauty made him at one glance
More bondsman in his heart than in his bonds.
Yet with good cheer he spake, `Behold me, Lady,
A prisoner, and the vassal of thy will;
And if thou keep me in thy donjon here,
Content am I so that I see thy face
But once a day: for I have sworn my vows,
And thou hast given thy promise, and I know
That all these pains are trials of my faith,
And that thyself, when thou hast seen me strained
And sifted to the utmost, wilt at length
Yield me thy love and know me for thy knight.'

Then she began to rail so bitterly,
With all her damsels, he was stricken mute;
But when she mocked his vows and the great King,
Lighted on words: `For pity of thine own self,
Peace, Lady, peace: is he not thine and mine?'
`Thou fool,' she said, `I never heard his voice
But longed to break away. Unbind him now,
And thrust him out of doors; for save he be
Fool to the midmost marrow of his bones,
He will return no more.' And those, her three,
Laughed, and unbound, and thrust him from the gate.

And after this, a week beyond, again
She called them, saying, `There he watches yet,
There like a dog before his master's door!
Kicked, he returns: do ye not hate him, ye?
Ye know yourselves: how can ye bide at peace,
Affronted with his fulsome innocence?
Are ye but creatures of the board and bed,
No men to strike? Fall on him all at once,
And if ye slay him I reck not: if ye fail,
Give ye the slave mine order to be bound,
Bind him as heretofore, and bring him in:
It may be ye shall slay him in his bonds.'

She spake; and at her will they couched their spears,
Three against one: and Gawain passing by,
Bound upon solitary adventure, saw
Low down beneath the shadow of those towers
A villainy, three to one: and through his heart
The fire of honour and all noble deeds
Flashed, and he called, `I strike upon thy side--
The caitiffs!' `Nay,' said Pelleas, `but forbear;
He needs no aid who doth his lady's will.'

So Gawain, looking at the villainy done,
Forbore, but in his heat and eagerness
Trembled and quivered, as the dog, withheld
A moment from the vermin that he sees
Before him, shivers, ere he springs and kills.

And Pelleas overthrew them, one to three;
And they rose up, and bound, and brought him in.
Then first her anger, leaving Pelleas, burned
Full on her knights in many an evil name
Of craven, weakling, and thrice-beaten hound:
`Yet, take him, ye that scarce are fit to touch,
Far less to bind, your victor, and thrust him out,
And let who will release him from his bonds.
And if he comes again'--there she brake short;
And Pelleas answered, `Lady, for indeed
I loved you and I deemed you beautiful,
I cannot brook to see your beauty marred
Through evil spite: and if ye love me not,
I cannot bear to dream you so forsworn:
I had liefer ye were worthy of my love,
Than to be loved again of you--farewell;
And though ye kill my hope, not yet my love,
Vex not yourself: ye will not see me more.'

While thus he spake, she gazed upon the man
Of princely bearing, though in bonds, and thought,
`Why have I pushed him from me? this man loves,
If love there be: yet him I loved not. Why?
I deemed him fool? yea, so? or that in him
A something--was it nobler than myself?
Seemed my reproach? He is not of my kind.
He could not love me, did he know me well.
Nay, let him go--and quickly.' And her knights
Laughed not, but thrust him bounden out of door.

Forth sprang Gawain, and loosed him from his bonds,
And flung them o'er the walls; and afterward,
Shaking his hands, as from a lazar's rag,
`Faith of my body,' he said, `and art thou not--
Yea thou art he, whom late our Arthur made
Knight of his table; yea and he that won
The circlet? wherefore hast thou so defamed
Thy brotherhood in me and all the rest,
As let these caitiffs on thee work their will?'

And Pelleas answered, `O, their wills are hers
For whom I won the circlet; and mine, hers,
Thus to be bounden, so to see her face,
Marred though it be with spite and mockery now,
Other than when I found her in the woods;
And though she hath me bounden but in spite,
And all to flout me, when they bring me in,
Let me be bounden, I shall see her face;
Else must I die through mine unhappiness.'

And Gawain answered kindly though in scorn,
`Why, let my lady bind me if she will,
And let my lady beat me if she will:
But an she send her delegate to thrall
These fighting hands of mine--Christ kill me then
But I will slice him handless by the wrist,
And let my lady sear the stump for him,
Howl as he may. But hold me for your friend:
Come, ye know nothing: here I pledge my troth,
Yea, by the honour of the Table Round,
I will be leal to thee and work thy work,
And tame thy jailing princess to thine hand.
Lend me thine horse and arms, and I will say
That I have slain thee. She will let me in
To hear the manner of thy fight and fall;
Then, when I come within her counsels, then
From prime to vespers will I chant thy praise
As prowest knight and truest lover, more
Than any have sung thee living, till she long
To have thee back in lusty life again,
Not to be bound, save by white bonds and warm,
Dearer than freedom. Wherefore now thy horse
And armour: let me go: be comforted:
Give me three days to melt her fancy, and hope
The third night hence will bring thee news of gold.'

Then Pelleas lent his horse and all his arms,
Saving the goodly sword, his prize, and took
Gawain's, and said, `Betray me not, but help--
Art thou not he whom men call light-of-love?'

`Ay,' said Gawain, `for women be so light.'
Then bounded forward to the castle walls,
And raised a bugle hanging from his neck,
And winded it, and that so musically
That all the old echoes hidden in the wall
Rang out like hollow woods at hunting-tide.

Up ran a score of damsels to the tower;
`Avaunt,' they cried, `our lady loves thee not.'
But Gawain lifting up his vizor said,
`Gawain am I, Gawain of Arthur's court,
And I have slain this Pelleas whom ye hate:
Behold his horse and armour. Open gates,
And I will make you merry.'

And down they ran,
Her damsels, crying to their lady, `Lo!
Pelleas is dead--he told us--he that hath
His horse and armour: will ye let him in?
He slew him! Gawain, Gawain of the court,
Sir Gawain--there he waits below the wall,
Blowing his bugle as who should say him nay.'

And so, leave given, straight on through open door
Rode Gawain, whom she greeted courteously.
`Dead, is it so?' she asked. `Ay, ay,' said he,
`And oft in dying cried upon your name.'
`Pity on him,' she answered, `a good knight,
But never let me bide one hour at peace.'
`Ay,' thought Gawain, `and you be fair enow:
But I to your dead man have given my troth,
That whom ye loathe, him will I make you love.'

So those three days, aimless about the land,
Lost in a doubt, Pelleas wandering
Waited, until the third night brought a moon
With promise of large light on woods and ways.

Hot was the night and silent; but a sound
Of Gawain ever coming, and this lay--
Which Pelleas had heard sung before the Queen,
And seen her sadden listening--vext his heart,
And marred his rest--`A worm within the rose.'

`A rose, but one, none other rose had I,
A rose, one rose, and this was wondrous fair,
One rose, a rose that gladdened earth and sky,
One rose, my rose, that sweetened all mine air--
I cared not for the thorns; the thorns were there.

`One rose, a rose to gather by and by,
One rose, a rose, to gather and to wear,
No rose but one--what other rose had I?
One rose, my rose; a rose that will not die,--
He dies who loves it,--if the worm be there.'

This tender rhyme, and evermore the doubt,
`Why lingers Gawain with his golden news?'
So shook him that he could not rest, but rode
Ere midnight to her walls, and bound his horse
Hard by the gates. Wide open were the gates,
And no watch kept; and in through these he past,
And heard but his own steps, and his own heart
Beating, for nothing moved but his own self,
And his own shadow. Then he crost the court,
And spied not any light in hall or bower,
But saw the postern portal also wide
Yawning; and up a slope of garden, all
Of roses white and red, and brambles mixt
And overgrowing them, went on, and found,
Here too, all hushed below the mellow moon,
Save that one rivulet from a tiny cave
Came lightening downward, and so spilt itself
Among the roses, and was lost again.

Then was he ware of three pavilions reared
Above the bushes, gilden-peakt: in one,
Red after revel, droned her lurdane knights
Slumbering, and their three squires across their feet:
In one, their malice on the placid lip
Frozen by sweet sleep, four of her damsels lay:
And in the third, the circlet of the jousts
Bound on her brow, were Gawain and Ettarre.

Back, as a hand that pushes through the leaf
To find a nest and feels a snake, he drew:
Back, as a coward slinks from what he fears
To cope with, or a traitor proven, or hound
Beaten, did Pelleas in an utter shame
Creep with his shadow through the court again,
Fingering at his sword-handle until he stood
There on the castle-bridge once more, and thought,
`I will go back, and slay them where they lie.'

And so went back, and seeing them yet in sleep
Said, `Ye, that so dishallow the holy sleep,
Your sleep is death,' and drew the sword, and thought,
`What! slay a sleeping knight? the King hath bound
And sworn me to this brotherhood;' again,
`Alas that ever a knight should be so false.'
Then turned, and so returned, and groaning laid
The naked sword athwart their naked throats,
There left it, and them sleeping; and she lay,
The circlet of her tourney round her brows,
And the sword of the tourney across her throat.

And forth he past, and mounting on his horse
Stared at her towers that, larger than themselves
In their own darkness, thronged into the moon.
Then crushed the saddle with his thighs, and clenched
His hands, and maddened with himself and moaned:

`Would they have risen against me in their blood
At the last day? I might have answered them
Even before high God. O towers so strong,
Huge, solid, would that even while I gaze
The crack of earthquake shivering to your base
Split you, and Hell burst up your harlot roofs
Bellowing, and charred you through and through within,
Black as the harlot's heart--hollow as a skull!
Let the fierce east scream through your eyelet-holes,
And whirl the dust of harlots round and round
In dung and nettles! hiss, snake--I saw him there--
Let the fox bark, let the wolf yell. Who yells
Here in the still sweet summer night, but I--
I, the poor Pelleas whom she called her fool?
Fool, beast--he, she, or I? myself most fool;
Beast too, as lacking human wit--disgraced,
Dishonoured all for trial of true love--
Love?--we be all alike: only the King
Hath made us fools and liars. O noble vows!
O great and sane and simple race of brutes
That own no lust because they have no law!
For why should I have loved her to my shame?
I loathe her, as I loved her to my shame.
I never loved her, I but lusted for her--
Away--'
He dashed the rowel into his horse,
And bounded forth and vanished through the night.

Then she, that felt the cold touch on her throat,
Awaking knew the sword, and turned herself
To Gawain: `Liar, for thou hast not slain
This Pelleas! here he stood, and might have slain
Me and thyself.' And he that tells the tale
Says that her ever-veering fancy turned
To Pelleas, as the one true knight on earth,
And only lover; and through her love her life
Wasted and pined, desiring him in vain.

But he by wild and way, for half the night,
And over hard and soft, striking the sod
From out the soft, the spark from off the hard,
Rode till the star above the wakening sun,
Beside that tower where Percivale was cowled,
Glanced from the rosy forehead of the dawn.
For so the words were flashed into his heart
He knew not whence or wherefore: `O sweet star,
Pure on the virgin forehead of the dawn!'
And there he would have wept, but felt his eyes
Harder and drier than a fountain bed
In summer: thither came the village girls
And lingered talking, and they come no more
Till the sweet heavens have filled it from the heights
Again with living waters in the change
Of seasons: hard his eyes; harder his heart
Seemed; but so weary were his limbs, that he,
Gasping, `Of Arthur's hall am I, but here,
Here let me rest and die,' cast himself down,
And gulfed his griefs in inmost sleep; so lay,
Till shaken by a dream, that Gawain fired
The hall of Merlin, and the morning star
Reeled in the smoke, brake into flame, and fell.

He woke, and being ware of some one nigh,
Sent hands upon him, as to tear him, crying,
`False! and I held thee pure as Guinevere.'

But Percivale stood near him and replied,
`Am I but false as Guinevere is pure?
Or art thou mazed with dreams? or being one
Of our free-spoken Table hast not heard
That Lancelot'--there he checked himself and paused.

Then fared it with Sir Pelleas as with one
Who gets a wound in battle, and the sword
That made it plunges through the wound again,
And pricks it deeper: and he shrank and wailed,
`Is the Queen false?' and Percivale was mute.
`Have any of our Round Table held their vows?'
And Percivale made answer not a word.
`Is the King true?' `The King!' said Percivale.
`Why then let men couple at once with wolves.
What! art thou mad?'

But Pelleas, leaping up,
Ran through the doors and vaulted on his horse
And fled: small pity upon his horse had he,
Or on himself, or any, and when he met
A cripple, one that held a hand for alms--
Hunched as he was, and like an old dwarf-elm
That turns its back upon the salt blast, the boy
Paused not, but overrode him, shouting, `False,
And false with Gawain!' and so left him bruised
And battered, and fled on, and hill and wood
Went ever streaming by him till the gloom,
That follows on the turning of the world,
Darkened the common path: he twitched the reins,
And made his beast that better knew it, swerve
Now off it and now on; but when he saw
High up in heaven the hall that Merlin built,
Blackening against the dead-green stripes of even,
`Black nest of rats,' he groaned, `ye build too high.'

Not long thereafter from the city gates
Issued Sir Lancelot riding airily,
Warm with a gracious parting from the Queen,
Peace at his heart, and gazing at a star
And marvelling what it was: on whom the boy,
Across the silent seeded meadow-grass
Borne, clashed: and Lancelot, saying, `What name hast thou
That ridest here so blindly and so hard?'
`No name, no name,' he shouted, `a scourge am I
To lash the treasons of the Table Round.'
`Yea, but thy name?' `I have many names,' he cried:
`I am wrath and shame and hate and evil fame,
And like a poisonous wind I pass to blast
And blaze the crime of Lancelot and the Queen.'
`First over me,' said Lancelot, `shalt thou pass.'
`Fight therefore,' yelled the youth, and either knight
Drew back a space, and when they closed, at once
The weary steed of Pelleas floundering flung
His rider, who called out from the dark field,
`Thou art as false as Hell: slay me: I have no sword.'
Then Lancelot, `Yea, between thy lips--and sharp;
But here I will disedge it by thy death.'
`Slay then,' he shrieked, `my will is to be slain,'
And Lancelot, with his heel upon the fallen,
Rolling his eyes, a moment stood, then spake:
`Rise, weakling; I am Lancelot; say thy say.'

And Lancelot slowly rode his warhorse back
To Camelot, and Sir Pelleas in brief while
Caught his unbroken limbs from the dark field,
And followed to the city. It chanced that both
Brake into hall together, worn and pale.
There with her knights and dames was Guinevere.
Full wonderingly she gazed on Lancelot
So soon returned, and then on Pelleas, him
Who had not greeted her, but cast himself
Down on a bench, hard-breathing. `Have ye fought?'
She asked of Lancelot. `Ay, my Queen,' he said.
`And hast thou overthrown him?' `Ay, my Queen.'
Then she, turning to Pelleas, `O young knight,
Hath the great heart of knighthood in thee failed
So far thou canst not bide, unfrowardly,
A fall from HIM?' Then, for he answered not,
`Or hast thou other griefs? If I, the Queen,
May help them, loose thy tongue, and let me know.'
But Pelleas lifted up an eye so fierce
She quailed; and he, hissing `I have no sword,'
Sprang from the door into the dark. The Queen
Looked hard upon her lover, he on her;
And each foresaw the dolorous day to be:
And all talk died, as in a grove all song
Beneath the shadow of some bird of prey;
Then a long silence came upon the hall,
And Modred thought, `The time is hard at hand.'

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True liberty consists only in the power of doing what we ought to will, and in not being constrained to do what we ought not to will.

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What I Am And What I Am Not

WHAT I AM AND WHAT I AM NOT

What I am and what I am not
Does not matter-
At the end of Time
If there is an end of Time
I will not be there.

Still

What is God?
And where will God Be?
And what does God mean?
And why am I here?

God is the Answer
But am I somehow part of THIS?

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Love Is Born

my heart makes up my body parts
and my body parts make up my heart.

for when love strikes you
it touches every part of your being
and this is what i'm seeing.

you get a cold chill, and your hairs
stand up on end.
this is a sign.
this is a trend.

it is felt in so many different forms
that's how love is born.

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Baited To Fear Everything Unknown

Being perceptive is rarely accepted,
When associating with others...
More accustomed to neglecting,
Their own thought process.
To rely upon what comes to comfort.
And is easily for them to quickly access.

Sharing insight with those less connected,
Will often initiate an unwanted debate.
To prove what is perceived not yet to be seen,
Will actually take place and on a specific date.
Especially with those who are baited to fear,
Everything unknown but claim to have faith!

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Forget not yet: The Lover Beseecheth his Mistress not to Forget his Steadfast Faith and True Intent

FORGET not yet the tried intent
Of such a truth as I have meant;
My great travail so gladly spent,
Forget not yet!

Forget not yet when first began
The weary life ye know, since whan
The suit, the service, none tell can;
Forget not yet!

Forget not yet the great assays,
The cruel wrong, the scornful ways,
The painful patience in delays,
Forget not yet!

Forget not! O, forget not this!--
How long ago hath been, and is,
The mind that never meant amiss--
Forget not yet!

Forget not then thine own approved,
The which so long hath thee so loved,
Whose steadfast faith yet never moved:
Forget not this!

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Sweet and Oozing With Charm

Others may determine,
You are fantastic.
With a defending of your claims,
They have seen you actually do a tap dance...
On thin air.

But it has been only directed towards me,
Your defamation and atrocities.
And these acts they have not witnessed,
To declare and believe my public treatment of you,
And in their view is unnecessary and too offensive.

'How can you be so cruel to someone undeserving?
Someone so sweet and oozing with charm.'

Gee, I have no idea.
Perhaps it is from leftover wounds...
No one witnessed when they were inflicted.
And a forgetting to forgive...
Has not yet arrived to sustain me with entertainment.

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Turmoil

We live in a time when the slightest alteration
can send our lives into a state of confusion.
It confuses our sense of being and our lives spiral
into turmoil not knowing which way to turn.

Everything seems like a mountain impossible to climb.
We seem to take one-step forward
and two steps back in every task we perform.
Our lives seem to spin in every decreasing circles going nowhere.

There seems no way out of the dark tunnel we are in,
no light to follow to regain our sanity
as we swim against the tide wonder if our lives
will ever be the same as the mountains get taller every time we look.

Yet we only need only take a minute and stand back
from those dark reaches that wish to control us.
Relax to view the turmoil for what we have made it
to cure our troubled mind.


16 May 2010

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To be a MAN

You've got to respect all others fight when needed back-off when necessary show compassion when needed help and listen when desired and show feeling's if need to be.


To know his limitation as a human being and respect others a man does not disrespect woman he does not take advantage even if they would allow it.


A man has self-respect, A man doesn't produce children unless he is capable of being there to raise them.


A man realized he will always be attracted to others woman and his matured enough to not act on that once his in a committed relationship.


A man is a real man when he is able to listen to his woman when she say's no and he back-off and doesn't forced her into anything he is most definitely a man when he does NOT HIT a woman.


He must be honest, strong doesn't change his views to suit whom ever he is with.

A man is true to his word if he say he will do something he does it! !

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And That's What It's Like With You, My Love

Whenever you touch me sweet, my love
i feel the rapid beat of my pulse
like a thousand drums pounding,
fast and hard through my marrrow -
such hard, percussed sonority.
And, whenever we move to the dance of love,
we're like two celestial violins
with bows freshly rosined -
rubbing, pulling with bare moist heat,
complimenting each other with favour,
to the arousing rhythm and pleasure
of loves' perfect movement.

And when we perform together,
in dual concert, dominating exchange -
solos encounter like soliloquies
of sensual deliverance.
And the Rush of this titillation
is like the bursting of cymbals.....in climax,
exuberant release...euphoria, and -
flushed and wet,
you strike a match;
i quit years ago,
but the spiraling trail of smoke, white
rising over brass and satin
reminds me of the encores yet to come...
ne plus ultra!

And that's what it's like with you, my love,
that's how it feels when you touch me sweet.

_____________ F j R _____________

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Dust In The Wing/Lust In The Dark Green Moon

What is an identity with no 'I- zone'? It is a time we should reinvestigate, reflect, deconstruct, reconstruct, decompose, recompose and finally reanalyse and revisit our own being and becoming skeleton.
What is an identity with no 'I- zone'? It is a time we should reinvestigate, reflect, deconstruct, reconstruct, decompose, recompose and finally reanalyse and revisit our own being and becoming skeleton.
What is an identity with no 'I- zone'? It is a time we should reinvestigate, reflect, deconstruct, reconstruct, decompose, recompose and finally reanalyse and revisit our own being and becoming skeleton.
What is an identity with no 'I- zone'? It is a time we should reinvestigate, reflect, deconstruct, reconstruct, decompose, recompose and finally reanalyse and revisit our own being and becoming skeleton.
What is an identity with no 'I- zone'? It is a time we should reinvestigate, reflect, deconstruct, reconstruct, decompose, recompose and finally reanalyse and revisit our own being and becoming skeleton.
I! dentity! ! ! !

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Isolated And Distant They Are Detached

There are so many people out of touch,
With life, themselves, others and their surroundings...
That the word 'Reality' could be painted ten feet tall,
On the side of a jumbo jet...
And they 'still' would try to convince those viewing it,
What appears is not yet in their vision to believe.
That's how isolated and distant they are detached,
From themselves, their minds to accept the comfort...
Of living in denial and rejection.

'Get away from me.
You are always talking with negativity.
These children today are no different than we were.
They are just seeking to be hugged and loved.
It is foolish to suggest they express disrespect,
Because they lack discipline, identity and a swift kick...
Where it can be felt.
I have always shown my kids by example,
They can do whatever they please.'

I agree.
Where are you going?

'Both of my 'babies' are in prison.
I am bringing to them some cookies...
To ensure them I am in their corner.
And to let them know,
I understand them completely.'

What a good parent you are.

'Thank you for noticing.'

It's the 'system' isn't it?

'The what? '

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The Now And Not Yet

The Now and the Not Yet Words & Music by Pan Mark Hall
Sung by Amy Grant
No longer what we were before,
But not all that we will be.
Tomorrow, when we lock the door,
On all our compromising,
When He appears,
He'll draw us near,
And we'll be changed by His glory,
Wrapped up in His glory....
We will be like Him,
For we shall see Him,
As He is.
(La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la....)
No longer what we saw before,
But not all that we will see.
Tomorrow, when we lock the door,
On all our disbelieving,
When He appears (holy, holy),
Our view will clear,
And we'll be changed by His glory,
Wrapped up in His glory....
But I'm caught in between
The now and the not yet;
Sometimes it seems like
Forever and ever,
That I've been reaching to be
All that I am,
But I'm only a few steps nearer,
Yet I'm nearer....
No longer what we were before,
But not all that we will be.
Tomorrow, when we lock the door,
On all our disbelieving,
And He appears (holy, holy),
He'll draw us near,
And we'll be changed by His glory,
Wrapped up in His glory....
When He appears (holy, holy),
He'll draw us near,
And we'll be changed by His glory,
Wrapped up in His glory....

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Wars and less education

The Arabs were not primitive and uneducated
Though education were limited
Suffered dominance under foreign rule and monarchy
Invaluable contribution to scholars and science without anarchy

Their suffering not yet over
For centuries catered the whole world and still
Facing the biggest onslaught and massive kill
No power on earth can weaken heir will

Let us praise and give them their legitimate due
World must open eyes and have sympathetic review
We have lot more to contribute for world cause and peace
Let them find heir own home and live at ease

Arabs have given a lot to world
They are facing complete heat and completely sold
No one lands ear to their plight and cause
Always at war without observing pause

They have been always crushed for international accommodation
Nothing is offered except wars and less education
They are kept under toe with threatening postures
Someone else is deciding their fate and future

World may not realize their plight
No one may grant their basic rights
Armies may march at will and kill innocents
Hardly something may be heard with comments

World may have to think afresh
There has to respect for their wishes
No nation can be put to shame
It is of no use later on to blame

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On Reading The Controversy Between Lord Byron And Mr Bowles

WHETHER a ship's poetic? -- Bowles would own,
If here he dwelt, where Nature is prosaic,
Unpicturesque, unmusical, and where
Nature-reflecting Art is not yet born; --
A land without antiquities, with one,
And only one, poor spot of classic ground,
(That on which Cook first landed) -- where, instead
Of heart-communings with ancestral relicks,
Which purge the pride while they exalt the mind,
We've nothing left us but anticipation,
Better (I grant) than utter selfishness,
Yet too o'erweening -- too American;
Where's no past tense, the ign'rant present's all;
Or only great by the All hail, hereafter!
One foot of Future's glass should rest on Past;
Where Hist'ry is not, Prophecy is guess --
If here he dwelt, Bowles (I repeat) would own
A ship's the only poetry we see.
For, first, she brings us "news of human kind,"
Of friends and kindred, whom perchance she held
As visitors, that she might be a link,
Connecting the fond fancy of far friendship,
A few short months before, and whom she may
In a few more, perhaps, receive again.
Next is a ship poetic, forasmuch
As in this spireless city and prophane,
She is to my home-wand'ring phantasy,
With her tall anch'ring masts, a three-spir'd minster,
Van-crown'd; her bell our only half-hour chimes.
Lastly, a ship is poetry to me,
Since piously I trust, in no long space,
Her wings will bear me from this prose-dull land.

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Why Children?

Why children occupy our full attention
We daily talk about and make mention
Wherever we go we carry some impression
Always praise with happiness and nice expressions

Some of the childless families miss the opportunity
It is divine gift offered to us with fine quality
So many couples may be offering prayers to have child
They may consider themselves unlucky and blind

Almighty has done fairly well for all human beings
The happiness desce4nds and bell rings
The child’s arrival is accepted with grace
So much happiness is seen on the face

One simple smile from child makes our life beautiful
Whole world seems to be within our reach and looks full
What is missing in our life thereafter?
Nothing else, only happiness and bursting into laughter

How a dropp of rain can bring life to seed?
How a soul comes into being and really freed?
What a lovely life when comes to play a role?
Intimacy with all and breathing as noble soul

What do we make thereafter in real world?
Love to live with love or create hate fold
Drag every one in new strategy to cheat
Consider it milestone and great feat

We abuse the child and push them to one side
We force their destiny and compulsorily decide
The perceptional difference is very wide
We sometimes don’t take precaution to hide

Let us not undermine importance of children
They are like messiahs and flowers even
What do we expect from their innocence?
Make life so lovely in their presence

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Story

I love story.
Truly I do.
And always will.
Of the best of them
I shall not ever
Get my fill.
They are never read, told, shared or sung
In vain,
They create, live and give
An allegorical ardor to life and being
That in no other form
Can anyone find or explain.
Yet,
the fact remains,
for each persons story
'tis the same:
Wherever great fictional stories
Are shown or told,
New or old,
There is a moment of climax, fantasy,
Where the main character overcomes confrontation.
And from that moment on everything is good, o.k.,
Pure and perfect transformation.......

Real life is story too,
One big Story
Filled with every human's sub-story,
All just as real, and true.
With the full ability to be every bit as great,
Word for word,
As any fiction
Ever told and heard.
With one powerful and true exception:
In the story of our human reality
The conflict may lesson,
But never, here and now, does it ever cease.
In this life, no matter what else,
There just will not be
Perfect, never-ending beauty and peace.
It's a fantastic fable
That from a moment forward
Life can be happily ever after;
No such thing has God here promised.
Only upon Christ's return
Shall tears and pain completely give way
To joy, dancing, and laughter.
Death to evil's horrid beast,
Finally and fully finished
At the great and glorious wedding feast!

But, tis not yet so;
Tis futile to think
For anyone life is unfragile,
We are all so soon wind-swept,
Our time, place and position on earth
Is never ours to be savored and kept...
So the story goes on and on
To it's final chapter,
Where the great author alone
Writes in the wonderous finish:
'The Eternal Happily Ever After'.

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The Priceless Gift Of Motherhood

You have always been the best friend to me,
teaching and showing me what others could not see.
Blessing me with everything you do,
even when other showed me hatred with their boo.
You are the greatest gift to humanity,
and without you there will be no human community.
Your love can never be compared to none,
even in times of sadness you always bring fun.
Eachtime i think of the pains you went through for my sake,
helps to bring me bad memories that i can't take.
Especially the tears you sheard at the time of my birth,
makes me wish that you alone should be free from death.
I can't imagine the pain of carrying me for 270 days,
that is why i feel like thanking you in a million ways.
Thanks for the time you had sleepless night,
and thanks for every dream you made right.
Thanks for all the love and care,
and also thanks for wiping away all of my tears.
Thanks for believing in me when others didn't,
and thanks for blessing me with your love when others couldn't.
Thanks for all of your moral lessons,
and thanks for all of your maternal blessings.
Thanks for always watching my back,
and thanks for being the light in my dark.
Thanks for all of your delicious food,
and thanks for making me the best in the hood.
Thanks for bearing all of my botherings,
and thanks for sharing all of my sufferings.
Thanks for the gift of life,
and thanks for being part of my life.
Thanks for being part of my success story,
and thanks for being part of my tale alleglory.
Thanks for being the best treasure i could ever find,
and thanks for your support when am lagging behind.
I just can't thank you enough for every thing you have done,
right from the moment i was born.
Thanks once more for making me a human,
because all of your love and care made me a super-human.
I value you more than silver and gold,
because you are the sweetest mum in the world.

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He is dead

He was pronounced dead

The anxieties and bitterness on face could be read
It was assumed he might have been starved of bread

It is regular scene witnessed now days
So many welfare measure are taken to find reasonable ways
It is not showing any fruitful result and solution is staying away

It is miserable to live on without dignity
There may be reason to some kind mercy as humanity
It is curse and should not be faced by majority of poor people
Some honorable ways are to be found to make them capable

If some means are created to have mechanism to counter the menace
The work force can be of immense value to increase the finance
The stability and prosperity can be envisaged with proper augmentation of human skill
No one may be dying of hunger, illness, poverty and can manage to live on still
This is not just idealism but reality and can be exercised in anticipation as drill

As we have every right to live on earth without bondage or freedom of will
No one can be pushed to brink of disaster or given the freedom to kill
It may be considered as balanced view if welfare measures are adopted as principle
When it is professed as free society to be lived by all as followers or disciples
The poverty will not be eliminated over night or brought to zero level
Some of the steps taken earnestly with the good intent may speak well

Not s single should suffer only for the reason not being addressed to
There may be lots of hardship to pass through
We all are here as human being and stage actor
Still we are not inhuman and to see it as spectator
We may function as benevolent ruler and not as dictator

The human life gifted by almighty is precious one and not to be ignored
Every opportunity is to be taken into account, availed and explored
No efforts be let up or left with loose ends and missed too
The mission is to be considered very much noble and it is true

The helplessness and misery is human enemy
All game is being played for wealth and money
Still the curse can be reduced and enjoyed by many

If reasonable means may be afforded and used
The crime rate may come to an end or reduced

More enthusiasm and confidence may be induced

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