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Funerals

my neighbor
I only see her
at funerals.

poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Neighbor, Neighbor

Neighbor, neighbor, why you messin in my life?
Neighbor, neighbor, youve been talkin to my wife,
Tellin her you seen me
Runnin wild the other night,
Runnin wild the other night.
A neighbor, neighbor, theress always one in every crowd.
A neighbor, neighbor, tellin lies and talkin loud.
You better watch your step now.
You might fall off your cloud.
You might fall off your cloud.
Now I was walking down a dusty road
When along came a neighbor of mine.
He saw me walkin with my head hung down,
He just had to stop and pass the time.
Neighbor, neighbor, floatin in the salty brine.
Floatin in the salty brine.

song performed by ZZ Top
Added by Lucian Velea
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Salut Au Monde

O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman!
Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!
Such join'd unended links, each hook'd to the next!
Each answering all--each sharing the earth with all.

What widens within you, Walt Whitman?
What waves and soils exuding?
What climes? what persons and lands are here?
Who are the infants? some playing, some slumbering?
Who are the girls? who are the married women?
Who are the groups of old men going slowly with their arms about each
other's necks?
What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these?
What are the mountains call'd that rise so high in the mists?
What myriads of dwellings are they, fill'd with dwellers?

Within me latitude widens, longitude lengthens;
Asia, Africa, Europe, are to the east--America is provided for in the
west;
Banding the bulge of the earth winds the hot equator,
Curiously north and south turn the axis-ends;
Within me is the longest day--the sun wheels in slanting rings--it
does not set for months;
Stretch'd in due time within me the midnight sun just rises above the
horizon, and sinks again;
Within me zones, seas, cataracts, plants, volcanoes, groups,
Malaysia, Polynesia, and the great West Indian islands.

What do you hear, Walt Whitman?

I hear the workman singing, and the farmer's wife singing;
I hear in the distance the sounds of children, and of animals early
in the day;
I hear quick rifle-cracks from the riflemen of East Tennessee and
Kentucky, hunting on hills;
I hear emulous shouts of Australians, pursuing the wild horse;
I hear the Spanish dance, with castanets, in the chestnut shade, to
the rebeck and guitar;
I hear continual echoes from the Thames;
I hear fierce French liberty songs;
I hear of the Italian boat-sculler the musical recitative of old
poems;
I hear the Virginia plantation-chorus of negroes, of a harvest night,
in the glare of pine-knots;
I hear the strong baritone of the 'long-shore-men of Mannahatta;
I hear the stevedores unlading the cargoes, and singing;
I hear the screams of the water-fowl of solitary north-west lakes;
I hear the rustling pattering of locusts, as they strike the grain
and grass with the showers of their terrible clouds;
I hear the Coptic refrain, toward sundown, pensively falling on the

[...] Read more

poem by Walt Whitman
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The Libelle of Englyshe Polycye

Here beginneth the Prologe of the processe of the Libelle of Englyshe polycye, exhortynge alle Englande to kepe the see enviroun and namelye the narowe see, shewynge whate profete commeth thereof and also whate worshype and salvacione to Englande and to alle Englyshe menne.

The trewe processe of Englysh polycye
Of utterwarde to kepe thys regne in rest
Of oure England, that no man may denye
Ner say of soth but it is one the best,
Is thys, as who seith, south, north, est and west
Cheryshe marchandyse, kepe thamyralte,
That we bee maysteres of the narowe see.

For Sigesmonde the grete Emperoure,
Whyche yet regneth, whan he was in this londe
Wyth kynge Herry the vte, prince of honoure,
Here moche glorye, as hym thought, he founde,
A myghty londe, whyche hadde take on honde
To werre in Fraunce and make mortalite,
And ever well kept rounde aboute the see.

And to the kynge thus he seyde, 'My brothere',
Whan he perceyved too townes, Calys and Dovere,
'Of alle youre townes to chese of one and other
To kepe the see and sone for to come overe,
To werre oughtwardes and youre regne to recovere,
Kepe these too townes sure to youre mageste
As youre tweyne eyne to kepe the narowe see'.

For if this see be kepte in tyme of werre,
Who cane here passe withought daunger and woo?
Who may eschape, who may myschef dyfferre?
What marchaundy may forby be agoo?
For nedes hem muste take truse every foo,
Flaundres and Spayne and othere, trust to me,
Or ellis hyndered alle for thys narowe see.

Therfore I caste me by a lytell wrytinge
To shewe att eye thys conclusione,
For concyens and for myne acquytynge
Ayenst God, and ageyne abusyon
And cowardyse and to oure enmyes confusione;
For iiij. thynges oure noble sheueth to me,
Kyng, shype and swerde and pouer of the see.

Where bene oure shippes, where bene oure swerdes become?
Owre enmyes bid for the shippe sette a shepe.
Allas, oure reule halteth, hit is benome.

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Stories Of Hope Series #1 living in poverty-the trapper and family

Born high in the mountains of Tennessee
With no running water, or electricity.
Living in rags that her father found in the woods
Was her only salvation, her only goods.
They put her in pampers that they had found
Dirty and filthy and pulled from the ground.
A rock stove and firewood
They would eat when they could.
He did fishing and trapping just to survive.
The closest neighbor was twenty miles away
By the time he walked there he would have to stay.
The neighbor would take all that he trapped
In return give him food, clothing, ammunition and fat.
The neighbor then told him:
This is no way to raise a child.
You’ve been in the mountains quite a while.
Things have changed drastically
In school is where this child should be.
This child must learn how to read and write
What you’re doing to her, just isn’t right.
He packed up his knapsack and up the mountain he fled
Putting her with other children, was something he did dread.
He finally got home where his wife and child awaited
He looked at them and then hesitated.
With gleams in their eyes of the goodies he brought.
The child looked in the bag for a doll that she sought.
Not finding the doll in the bag, she turned and walked
From the room looking so sad
She went outside deep in the woods
her head hung down and there she stood.
The tears started to form in her eyes
And then she did cry.
Her father saw this and his heart broke in two
Now he knew what he had to do.
The following morning he went back down the mountain again
To speak to his neighbor, his only friend.
He asked his friend what should I do
My daughter is suffering and feeling blue.
I don’t have the money to buy her things, or send her to school
And living in the mountains is not the right tool.
He said: you are a natural born mountain man
And for you I do have a plan.
How would you like to teach others how to survive
And into your mountains they would climb.
You can teach them how to hunt and fish
This is on a city dwellers wish list.
You will get paid for what you love to do
And to your heart you will be true.
Looking at his family and the way they lived
An education for his child he had to give.

[...] Read more

poem by Louis Rams
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Differences

My neighbor lives on the hill,
And I in the valley dwell,
My neighbor must look down on me,
Must I look up?--ah, well,
My neighbor lives on the hill,
And I in the valley dwell.

My neighbor reads, and prays,
And I--I laugh, God wot,
And sing like a bird when the grass is green
In my small garden plot;
But ah, he reads and prays,
And I--I laugh, God wot.

His face is a book of woe,
And mine is a song of glee;
A slave he is to the great 'They say,'
But I--I am bold and free;
No wonder he smacks of woe,
And I have the tang of glee.

My neighbor thinks me a fool,
'The same to yourself,' say I;
'Why take your books and take your prayers,
Give me the open sky;'
My neighbor thinks me a fool,
'The same to yourself,' say I.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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White Funeral

sitting alone with nowhere to go
ignoring the static from the radio
that interrupts my favorite song
haven’t loved it in so long

some say love is a foolish thing
and although not in all cases
i can’t help but agree
with the smarter majority

so many weddings
just white funerals
a hand to hold
for the rest of her life
open to the bliss
and the carelessness
be careful, more careful
does it still feel right

i’ll apologize in all the places
where i frowned at all the smiling faces
i just wonder if that will be me
with a wedding dress and a history

so much thought in an august moment
i’m living in my favorite season
but winter’s here, and taking control
as we let the rest of our days unfold

so many weddings
just white funerals
someone she barely knows
becomes her life
open to neglect
and disrespect
that comes with the one
she loved last night

i think of someone i know
better than anyone
i think i’ll be more optomistic
when this is done
can’t help but to think
that my white funeral
won’t be a funeral at all
because i know him
she doesn’t know him

so many weddings
just white funerals

[...] Read more

poem by Jade Leven
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A love for neighbor

Love the neighbor
that is great honor
he will be first to attend
All may reach last including friends

the neighbor and guests are best
they stand the time and test
open your secrets and confide
Neighbor will know even if you hide

it is wrong to assume
no grudges and feelings to fume
if you know him to be near
there won't be any fear

Love the neighbor so to be close to Thy
there has to be no question as why?
rule or no rule he is there to rescue
relatives and friends may have no clue

Love wins you whole world
the neighbor must be in our hold
he is there to watch and protect
from any of the harm or ill act

we generally harbor ill feelings
we don’t go closer or even willing
this is one of gratest drawback
it may put us on backtrack

It may not help us either
Even seasons act wise in weather
we are sensible human being
we should not stick to views or cling

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Secrets Of The Law Of God

Truly who
can know
interpret

secrets
hidden

within
the laws
of God?

How long
for how
many years

must one
study
to know

secrets
secrets of
the law?

There is no secret
read the ten commandments
read obey the laws

never forgetting
all sin
all fall short

of the glory of God.

Remove the rafter
of sin
within your own eye

before
you speak out
about

the splinter
of sin
within your

brothers
sisters
eyes.

N ever forgetting

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Lets See Action

Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see freedom, lets see who cares,
Lets see freedom, lets see who cares,
Take me with you when you leave me
Take me with you when you leave me
And my shell behind us there.
And my shell behind us there.
I have learned it, known who burned me,
I have learned it, known who burned me,
Avatar has warmed my feet,
Avatar has warmed my feet,
Take me with you, let me see you,
Take me with you, let me see you,
Time and life can meet.
Time and life can meet.
Nothing is everything, everything is, nothing is,
Nothing is everything, everything is, nothing is,
Please the people, audiences,
Please the people, audiences,
Break the fences,
Break the fences,
Nothing is.
Nothing is.
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see freedom up in the air,
Lets see freedom up in the air,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets be free, lets see who cares.
Lets be free, lets see who cares.
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see freedom up in the air,
Lets see freedom up in the air,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets be free, lets see who cares.
Lets be free, lets see who cares.
Give me a drink boy, wash my feet,
Give me a drink boy, wash my feet,
Im so tired of running from my own heat,
Im so tired of running from my own heat,
Take this package and heres what you do,
Take this package and heres what you do,
Gonna get this information through.
Gonna get this information through.
I dont know where Im going,
I dont know where Im going,

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Havent You Heard

(j.buckley)
Your wish is my command!
Have you heard this talk about eye contact
Gonna be the downfall of this town.
First the photographs take you to the right hands.
Leads you to the authority mold.
Chorus:
Paranoia will write the world prayer
Make sure that you fit in the right holes
But when you take his offer, youre done for,
Done for, oh!
Phantoms in pockets, were in panic,
Making order in total disgust
Oh, they read a list of all who cannot stay
Take you down, on the ground.
(chorus)
Make sure you learn to beware your neighbor
Bolt the doors and hire your guards
Suck your life with their virus called language
Someone told you this all would go down.
And the last thing you see is the luster,
Hold the razor, goodbye to your friends
Would your underground please call the mayor,
Call the neighbor, call your friends.
(chorus)
Well, when he first saw you, youd need no protection
I train my eyes on your mouth, youll learn to take him.
Hmmm. its a brand new power.
My friends had her questions right
Beware your neighbor
Havent you heard, havent you heard
That were done for. oh.
Learn to beware your neighbor
And the right mode
Havent you heard?
Havent you heard,
That were done for, done for?
When I count down from ten
Youll feel the lead in your lids
Youll have no need to exist
And wake up refreshed
Hah!

song performed by Jeff Buckley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dharma Talk # 2 (Cry For Help)

the growl in your stomach,
your neighbor's hunger.
the wet spot on your pillow,
your neighbor's tears.
the sharp pain in your heart,
your neighbor's eviction notice.
the sadness in your mirror...
your neighbor's cry for help!

WAKE UP!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Clothes Line

After a while we took in the clothes,
Nobody said very much.
Just some old wild shirts and a couple pairs of pants
Which nobody really wanted to touch.
Mama come in and picked up a book
An papa asked her what it was.
Someone else asked, what do you care?
Papa said, well, just because.
Then they started to take back their clothes,
Hang em on the line.
It was january the thirtieth
And everybody was feelin fine.
The next day everybody got up
Seein if the clothes were dry.
The dogs were barking, a neighbor passed,
Mama, of course, she said, hi!
Have you heard the news? he said, with a grin,
The vice-presidents gone mad!
Where? downtown. when? last night.
Hmm, say, thats too bad!
Well, theres nothin we can do about it, said the neighbor,
Its just somethin were gonna have to forget.
Yes, I guess so, said ma,
Then she asked me if the clothes was still wet.
I reached up, touched my shirt,
And the neighbor said, are those clothes yours?
I said, some of em, not all of em.
He said, ya always help out around here with the chores?
I said, sometime, not all the time.
Then my neighbor, he blew his nose
Just as papa yelled outside,
Mama wants you t come back in the house and bring them clothes.
Well, I just do what Im told,
So, I did it, of course.
I went back in the house and mama met me
And then I shut all the doors.

song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Be Careful Of Stones That You Throw

Recorded by hank williams, sr.
Written by bonnie dodd
Chorus
A [f] tongue can accuse and carry bad [c] news
The [f] seeds of distrust, it will [c] sow
But [f] unless youve made no mistakes in your [c] life
Be careful of [g7] stones that you [c] throw.
(spoken)
[c] a neighbor was passing my [f] garden one time
[c] she stopped and I knew right away [g7]
That it was gossip, not flowers, she had on her mind [c]
And this is what I heard my neighbor say:
[c] that girl down the street [f] should be run from our midst
[c] she drinks and she talks quite a lot [g7]
She knows not to speak to my child or to me. [c]
My neighbor then smiled and I thought:
Chorus
(spoken)
A car speeded by and the screamin of brakes
A sound that made my blood chill
For my neighbors one child had been pulled from the path
And saved by a girl lying still.
The child was unhurt and my neighbor cried out:
Oh! who was that brave girl so sweet?
I covered the crushed, broken body and said:
The bad girl who lived down the street.
Chorus

song performed by Hank Williams
Added by Lucian Velea
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It Makes More Sense

It makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.

It makes more sense,
To walk away than to be petty.
And it makes more sense,
To prevent a thumping headache.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Many fools love to do.

And it makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Fools love to do.

And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.

And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.

Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.
Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You and Your Neighbor

You are correct!
I will not get upset,
Over those things your neighbor
Has done to you.
Nor do I care about those things shared,
The two of you choose to do!

You and your neighbor,
Have been doing what you do for years.
That what has been done now escalates?
Is none of my business.
I've never been invited on your discreet escapades.
And today I could care less,
About this mess going on between you two.

You are correct!
I will not get upset,
Over those things your neighbor
Has done to you.
Nor do I care about those things shared,
The two of you choose to do!

Remember then when I made my comments?
And you said to me,
My comments made were making you about to vomit?
You should have purged then!
Not today!
When you're knee deep in the mess you are in!

You are correct!
I will not get upset,
Over those things your neighbor
Has done to you.
If anything,
I congratulate you both!
You have graduated from avoidable ignorance...
To flat out public scrutiny that is assessed as stupidity.

No!
I do not want a cup of coffee.
I prefer these days to walk in peace,
And alone!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tasker Norcross

“Whether all towns and all who live in them—
So long as they be somewhere in this world
That we in our complacency call ours—
Are more or less the same, I leave to you.
I should say less. Whether or not, meanwhile,
We’ve all two legs—and as for that, we haven’t—
There were three kinds of men where I was born:
The good, the not so good, and Tasker Norcross.
Now there are two kinds.”

“Meaning, as I divine,
Your friend is dead,” I ventured.

Ferguson,
Who talked himself at last out of the world
He censured, and is therefore silent now,
Agreed indifferently: “My friends are dead—
Or most of them.”

“Remember one that isn’t,”
I said, protesting. “Honor him for his ears;
Treasure him also for his understanding.”
Ferguson sighed, and then talked on again:
“You have an overgrown alacrity
For saying nothing much and hearing less;
And I’ve a thankless wonder, at the start,
How much it is to you that I shall tell
What I have now to say of Tasker Norcross,
And how much to the air that is around you.
But given a patience that is not averse
To the slow tragedies of haunted men—
Horrors, in fact, if you’ve a skilful eye
To know them at their firesides, or out walking,—”

“Horrors,” I said, “are my necessity;
And I would have them, for their best effect,
Always out walking.”

Ferguson frowned at me:
“The wisest of us are not those who laugh
Before they know. Most of us never know—
Or the long toil of our mortality
Would not be done. Most of us never know—
And there you have a reason to believe
In God, if you may have no other. Norcross,
Or so I gather of his infirmity,
Was given to know more than he should have known,
And only God knows why. See for yourself
An old house full of ghosts of ancestors,
Who did their best, or worst, and having done it,

[...] Read more

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Future Perfect dialect poem

Future Perfect

Two auld biddies gossiping
aboot their hubbies suffering.
My Albies plagued with aches and pains
Ye knaa he’s got varry close veins..

That’s aaful pet her friend replied.
With eagerness she could not hide
My Fred has a cardiac heart.
That’s bad enuff just for a start.

He has a gastric stomach too.
He’s hard to live with I tell you.
Aah dee me best as ye well knaa,
he’s only happy doon the bar.

Supping beer he shouldn’t have
he’ll drive me to an orly grave
Ye knaa hinny but for us
they’d starve to death Its curious.

Theres neither of them fit te work
Aah wonder sometimes if the shirk
but we gan on as women dee.
We have nee time to be poorly.

They said Tara and went their way.
They’d had their gossip for the day.
There’s hoosework waiting to be dyun
we get nee help from anyone.

His lordship likes to lie in bed
He’s like a bear with a sore head.
If Aah distorb him early on
before the noonday buzzers gone.

He gets up shouting for his grub.
His breakfast forst then doon the pub.
It hurts to see him suffer so
aah doot he hasn’t lang to go.

His funerals paid for at the store
that’s one worry aah can ignore.
Aah’ll be a widow woman then
Aah divvent think aah’ll wed again.

AAh’ll get mesel a bungalow
wi lace cortins in the window.
Aah have a black dress put away

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Woman In Me (feat. Destiny's Child)

Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Ohhhhh
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
As I look in, look in the mirror I see
Life is really here to be with me, oh
I can see myself getting stronger everyday
I'm not the same woman I used to be
So now I tell myself I am thinkin strong
I see the beauty lying within my soul
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
When I love myself I can do whatever I want
Doesn't matter what you do to me, do to me
Honest people, there's a possibility
To tell you my real reality
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be (I wanna be)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (woman in me baby)
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Can you see the woman in me
Do you really wanna see the woman in me
Hahha, let me show you
Don't underestimate the woman I become
The woman I am
So now I tell myself that I'm thinkin I'm strong
And I see the beauty lying within my soul
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be (I wanna be)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be (I wanna be)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)

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song performed by Jessica Simpson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Moon poems

1
sometimes I wish
dear moon
sometimes I wish
the earth had five moons
and all so positioned
we can see
one every night and then in twos and in threes
never four (just so for mystery’s sake)
and then all five
all in perfect alignment once a year
just three nights so
and then we’ll all here on earth
go ga ga ga
or moo moo moo looooney
those nights and go crazy
and climb up trees and enact our ape ancestry …

and don’t you be jealous
I asked for four others;
I just want more of you –
just never seem to get enough of you

2
I see you moon
this cool autumn morning
you sing over the river and trees
and you are supported
by your belly-dance troupe of stars

3
ah poor moon
you're just hanging around
and through no fault of your own
you attract all these weirdos
these lunatics
and the vampires and the blood-sucking bats
and the sleep-walkers and murderers
and the flesh-eaters
(the moon made me do it!)
and the lunatics
and the werewolves
and even stock-pickers
and wild women who want to kill Orpheus

O poor moon

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poem by Raj Arumugam
Added by Poetry Lover
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