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Fun is when you let karma do its business under the sun.

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When You Let Out That Laughter

when you let out that
laughter from your mouth
tell me where it finally
landed? did it fall on
the clouds
did it finally fall
on the river?
did it fall in the
hole of your heart?
did it hide in that
old well where
we once whispered
the validity
of our love?

let me see,
it in your palm

is it falling
and falling
still?

you are not
holding
it yet

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No More Fun

It started out fun
But then you were done
I was sitting under the
Sun and I
Decided to grab the gun
Now I was done
No more fun

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When I Go Out And Play Under The Sun

when i go out and play under the sun
like a child i run and not minding if i fall

i always know how to stand back
and hold myself within a frame of bones

sometimes without restraint i force
myself upon the fingers of light and warmth

and then when it is over when darkness begins
to claim its rightful share i too know how to surrender

i go back from where i come from and take shelter
on a roof and close my door and windows

i am back in my little nook taking some sleep
always remembering the good old days of sun

the summer in my mind the darkness and coldness
within i keep them all and they all become a part

of me. For i am both darkness and light, both
child and man, both evil and good, both sun and moon.

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When will you let me go?

When will you let me die?
Don't you get can't you see?
I don't wish to live my life.
I can't take any more pain.
I hate living in pains lane.

When you let me go?
When will you let my suffering end?
Why can't you see I can't take anymore?

Please see it like I do.
My life is over and done.
See it like I do I am not worth saving.
I am only worth dying.

No body will miss me for long.

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Writing At That Time When You Were Sick...or Dying

when you write
when you are sick and having fever throughout the night
there is no one beside you
there is no electricity, and there is a storm raging on your roof
the house is shaking

you feel that in a short while this house will be blown away
and you just do not know what happens in mid-air

when you write these lines
you hear voices asking for help as though they are buried by the waves
twirled and taken to the bottom of that deep and dark ocean
some bodies
of children and women
some still holding each others' hands
lay dead beside the black corrals and the sea porcupines and urchins

finally, you are carried by this horror
your body shakes in terror like the house shaking its beams and walls in mid-air
you give up the pen
let go off the paper
you give up that consciousness

what you have and what you are now
is air,
strangled like a throat
all breaths finally
sucked
in a vacuum

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When You Told Me You Loved Me

Once
Doesn't mean anything to me
Come
Show me the meaning of complete
Where
Did our love go wrong
Once we were so strong
How can I go on?

When you told me you loved me
Did you know it would take me the rest of my life
to get over the feeling of knowing
A dream didn't turn out right
When you let me believe that you weren't complete
Without me by your side
how could I know
That you would go
That you would run
Baby

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When You Write My Eulogy

When you write my eulogy
Don't tell the people lies;
Tell of my complexities,
My virtues,
My sins;
Tell of my soberness,
My fight with insanity.

Tell the people
Of my confusion,
My quest for clarity
Though I embraced Him.

Tell how my love for humanity
Contrasted with my hate for injustice;
Let them smell my beloved patchouli
Who I betrayed for cannabis.

Open the temple of my heart
And let them see
The angels dancing,
Dancing to the tunes of the psalmist;
Let them see the Savior's
Outstretched hands,
How I kiss His feet.
Let them see His eyes blazing.

When you write my eulogy
Tell the people of my acquaintance
With politicians;
How it hurts like leprosy.

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox

When you go Away

When you go away, my friend,
When you say your last good-bye,
Then the summer time will end,
And the winter will be nigh.

Though the green grass decks the heather,
And the birds sing all the day,
There will be no summer weather
After you have gone away.

When I look into your eyes,
I shall thrill with deepest pain,
Thinking that beneath the skies
I may never look again.

You will feel a moment's sorrow,
I shall feel a lasting grief;
You forgetting on the morrow,
I to mourn with no relief.

When we say the last sad word,
And you are no longer near,
And the winds and all the birds
Cannot keep the summer here,

Life will lose its full completeness---
Lose it not for you, but me;
All the beauty and the sweetness
Each can hold, I shall not see.

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When You Say Nothing At All (Rumba)

It's amazing
How you can speak
Right to my heart
Without saying a word,
You can light up the dark
Try as I may
I could never explain
What I hear when
You don't say a thing
[CHORUS:]
The smile on your face
Lets me know
That you need me
There's a truth
In your eyes
Saying you'll never leave me
The touch of your hand says
You'll catch me
Whenever I fall
You say it best
When you say
Nothing at all
All day long
I can hear people
Talking out loud
But when you hold me near
You drown out the crowd
(The crowd)
Try as they may
They can never define
What's been said
Between your
Heart and mine
[Repeat chorus twice]
(You say it best
When you say
Nothing at all
You say it best
When you say
Nothing at all)
The smile on your face
The truth in your eyes
The touch of your hand
Let's me know
That you need me
[Repeat chorus]
(You say it best
When you say
Nothing at all
You say it best
When you say
Nothing at all)
The smile on your face
The truth in your eyes
The touch of your hand
Let's me know
That you need me
(You say it best
When you say
Nothing at all
You say it best
When you say
Nothing at all)

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Let the Beat Control Your Body

-a- anita ; r - ray
A: let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body
A: let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body
A: let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body / let the beat contol your body
R: now the my beat control your body!
R: let my beat / let my beat
A: control your body/ the beat is running throw your vains/ control your body /when you let it penetrate your brain!
R: the booming system which plays in places / move your system, change these spaces / when Im on the mic you cant refuse / no one ever came to preach, I came to amuse / techno making; no mista
Never faking / always breaking it down, hey to a party / now let my beat control your body!
A: let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body
R: now let my beat control your body
A: let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body
R: let my beat / let my beat
A: control your body/ the beat is running throw your vains/ control your body /when you let it penetrate your brain!
R: its my beat now / its my beat
A: let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body
A: let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body, yeah...
R: let my beat / let my beat
R: down with the forces how we go / the second to first just you to show / you just cant stand still cause you gotta move / you feel the bass line you feel the groove / my beat accepts you jus
You are / it drives you away just like a fast car / its my beat, it belongs to me / so let my beat control your body!
A: let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body
R: let the beat control your body!
A: let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body / let the beat control your body
R: now let my beat control your body!
A: control your body/ the beat is running throw your vains/ control your body /when you let it penetrate your brain!
A: let the beat control your body!

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Patrick White

When You Look At A Star

When you look at a star
can you see
how the night leaves
the intimate doors
of intuitive eventuality ajar?
I'm all future with a prophetic past.
Aviomantic signs of liberated doves.
So many lifespans in a single moment.
How many light-years to the nearest star?
And how many shadows back?
Trying to say the inexpressible in words is like
to trying to thaw a snowstorm
on the tip of your tongue
flake by flake syllabically
or trying to explain bubbles to a glacier
in a momentary suspension of disbelief.
When you look at a star
do you see
that's it's you
that's shining up that far
and it's you down here
receiving your own light back like a ball
you made of your childhood
and threw up in the air
like a celestial sphere
when you had
all the time in the world
to come back and catch it later?
And as I grew older
not waiting for it to come back down
I learned to play vertical pool with the stars
to move things around
that were once considered fixed.
When you look at a star
if you want to clear the table
if you want to make the longshot
if you want to change the birthmark of misfortune
into an upturned elephant trunk of good luck
you have to chalk the cue with your skull.
But I ask you earnestly
if no one's ever failed their death
is it probable
anyone's ever failed their life
despite what their tears and fears have told them
about where they've ended up?
But a good beginning doesn't lead to a good end
because a good beginning never stops.
A good beginning is without conclusion.
It doesn't need to look beyond itself
because nothing's missing from the very start.
When you look at a star
do you see the ancient wisdom
in a child's heart
do you feel the depth
of all the eyes that have looked at it before
with longing wonder and sorrow
asking you to give them some direction
by adding yourself like another dimension to the past?
Is there a firefly of human suffering
mingled in the shining?
A window makes a better starmap
than a ten inch mirror
in a Schmidt-Cassegrain reflecting telescope
on an equatorial mount with clock drive
following them around like paparazzi
but when the stars want to know
where they're at
it's your eyes they parallax
at both ends
of the wingspan of your orbit.
It's your seeing that gives them a fix.
The same eye by which I see God
is the eye by which God sees me.
It's the same with everything
from fireflies to supernovas.
The donkey looks into the well.
The well looks back at the donkey.
Tat tvam asi.
You are that.
The lampshade and the blue parrot.
The donkey and the carrot.
When you look at a star
do you dress your destiny up
in hand-me-down constellations
like clothes you'll grow into one day
or do you wear them like patchs on myths
you're trying to give up
about how rough it's been
to be chosen beauty queen
and bear the diamond tiara of the Pleiades
like the Northern Crown?
When you look at a star
is it the chip of a broken mirror
the plinth of a shattered chandelier
the Holy Ghost of fireflies
a fire-womb of immaculate fusions
that bear the transgender features
of their ancestral elements
like Abrahamic hydrogen?
A burning bush
in the valley of Tuwa
that eventually talks itself out like a candle
when the conversation begins to harden
like an auditory hallucination
into a puddle
of earwax shadows and wicks?
Or do you discern something more
you can't quite put your finger on
or point to
not a presence
but there
an absence
but everywhere
and you standing there
like this tiny insight
with the precipitous extremeties
of a human being
trying to discover your own nature
in the inexplicability of all that shining
wondering if the rumours of awareness
the universe has been spreading about you
are true or not?
When you look at a star
have you ever thought
if mass is energy
maybe matter is mind
and thinking of one
as something that has to get over the other
is like expecting a wave to transcend water?
Light and lamp.
Body and mind.
Not one of two
but two in one
and even that's one too much.
The flower opens
in the light of the sun
like a kiss on the eyelid
and the sun blooms
as if it had a crush on the flower.
When you look at a star
can you feel how the light
touchs your eyes as gently as a butterfly
as if all the eyelashs you've lost in a lifetime
like the ribbing of broken kites
or the spokes of a bike
or the straws of overworked brooms
had come back to you
as a living thing
with antennae legs and wings?
Have you ever looked at a star
and wondered how far away it would be
if you were to measure the distance in thought-years?
And such a small thing the mind
a child's hand
and yet within its grasp
all that mass black matter energy light space time?
How could you fit
all those cosmic immensities
and the abyss that contains them
into such a small place
if they weren't your own ideas?
When you look at a star
do you ever get the feeling
you're swimming through your own gene-pool
your own meme pool
the Pierian spring
where it meets the sea
at the bottom of your mountain mindstream?
When you look at a star
do you ever turn the light around
and look into yourself
through its eyes
and realize
you've been communing with your own reflection
inconceivably
for billions of years
and that little insight
is the cosmic light of awareness
that fills the night with everything that is
when is is not the opposite of is not
and there's no separation in the first atom
between thought life light mind matter and form
and the lion lies down with the lamb
and the old woman says she is not old
and the sparrow lays her egg in the serpent's coil
and the old man who has seen everything says
my eyes are as young now
as you were back then
and your beauty is today?
When I was a boy
growing up in a garbage can
like a diamond in the rough
everyone wanted to cut
and buff the edges off
to polish me like a lens
so everybody could see how focused I was
when I looked up at the stars
from the bottom of a spent wishing well
where you could see them even during the day.
Though I was taught
they were responsible for my fate
and I should blame them for what I am
and not the black dwarfs of hate
who perverted the space around me
like slumlords
until even the buds of the flowers
were white as the knuckles of clenched fists
I never thought for a moment
that anything that clean and beautiful
that far away
from the scene of the crime at the time
could ever do anything here
that needed an alibi.
When I looked at the stars
I was enraptured by their mystery.
I was exalted by their unattainability
and the age of the silence
that surrounded their fires
knowing they've burned longer
than the light has lived
and seen more
than their eyes can forgive
of human life on the planet.
And the greatest agony of my childhood
from seven till ten
such that I would weep
my bitterness to sleep every night
like a child abandoned to a hospital
was that I was born way too early
to get to Aldebaran.
When I looked at a star
I didn't gape like a telescope
into the depths of its utter solitude
but looked upon it like a far intimacy
I could draw near
until I could feel it breathing like silver
all over the mirror
that was as clear
as any dark spear
that ever wounded a mystic with bliss.
Strange whisperings of exiled sages
pouring stories of home
into a young boy's ear
like my mother used to talk about
her childhood in Queensland
as if she were in the Garden of Eden.
When I looked at a star
and listened to its picture-music
I was so deeply moved
by the beauty and sadness of the song
like inspiration in utter solitude
I went into exile with it here
and it was my blossom
no wind could blow away
and it was my root
in the starmud
nothing could pull up
and throw away.
When I looked at a star
I was enthralled
by the dispassionate attachment
and creative dynamic
that burned me like a sacrificial heretic
in the ice of inspiration.
I could forget the small orbit
of house arrest
that a circumstantial planet
had affixed like an electronic anklet around my leg
for being born unforgivably poor.
When I looked at a star
it was as if the flightfeather
of a bluewhite fire bird
landed on the windowsill of my cell
to take pity on me
and share its freedom
with someone living in a cage.
When I looked at a star
it was the synteretic spark
I sent out like a dove from the ark
with two of every mind
in the zodiac aboard
after forty days of flood
to look for Atlantis
like the next best thing
to Mt. Ararat or Cathay.
It was the angel that always looked back
with the same mystic fury in its eyes
that were in mine
when I looked up.
When I looked at a star
I could prognosticate the future
like the distant memory
of someone returning to their origins
waking up from exile
to discover it wasn't a dream.
You can tell by the way a star
flashs like a panicked chameleon
on the event horizon of a blackhole
things are what they seem
when you're peering through atmospheres
with tears in your eyes.
I used to make telescopes when I was young.
I would grind their pyrex eyes
with ever finer grades of carborundum
until they could see just right.
I shaped their fibre-glass bodies
until they were as smooth as a woman's skin.
And I took them out into the open fields naked
far beyond the intrusions of the city lights
and exposed them to the stars
who revered them like clear-eyed mirrors
and adorned one with leaves
and the other with sidereal veils
and said like the elders
and old midwives of an Ojibway tribe
when they name the newborn.
This one shall be called Eve.
And this one Isis.
And to celebrate their birth
opened a third eye
and said
as it is on earth
it shall not be in the sky.

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When you look at me

When you look at me
and I see the light
in your golden eyes,
there’s much more
than your words say.

When you touch me
there’s deeper meaning,
than I know to express
and I am truly blessed
that you love me.

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When You Come

When you come, passing me by
Blushing over the way I smile
BUTTERFLIES will fly from my eyes
True love isn't easy to come by.

I have looked the whole town
Searching for love all around
But I keep stumbling about
Falling always on the wrong hands.

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When You Are Lost You Are Not Alone

the tension lies in isolation
when you take things all alone
and there is no knowing that out there
when you are lost
and so preoccupied with the fear of being lost

with a little light
even a flicker
you could have seen a hundred or more
faces looking for themselves
you could have known
that there are too many of us

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Lust In Affection

Concupiscence gushing over tenderness
Conscience blushing over gentleness

Salacious in demeanor
Affection urges to be cleaner

Lechery rippling through emotions
Crippling all genial notions

Wanton in its trait
Affection is the sole bait

Irascible when left on its own
Lust flares if affection is not shown

Malicious when you let it lurk around
Lascivious in the murk, that surround

Avid in essence,
Lewd in all sense,
Blame not chasteness to be tense

Let there lust be in affection
Word is, there must be deception

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When You're In Prison

When you're in prison, don't turn the other way
Keep your back against the wall
When you're in prison, don't turn the other way
Do not bend at all
Oh don't pick up the soap, pick up the soap
It's bad for you
Oh don't pick up the soap, pick up the soap
Someone will be waiting there for you
When you're in prison be sure to stay awake
Always lie upon your back
When you're in prison be sure to stay awake
Keep you from attack
Oh don't be no one's bitch, be no one's bitch
It's bad for you
Oh don't be no one's bitch, be no one's bitch
They won't help you make it through.
When you're in prison, don't turn the other way
Follow what I say to do.
When you're in prison, don't turn the other way
You can make it through
You can make it through
You can make it through

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When You Say Diamond

when you say diamond
i do not imagine the luxuries of the glittery
world where you live
it is all yours, through and through, and somehow
i have never been there
and i do not wish to dream to live there
for once
for that cannot be in fact, i live in the world
of the tatters and the pebbles so silent and deep
in their cursed slumbers,

when you say diamond i imagine faces
those that i see everyday in you
those that deceive and those that pretend not to hurt
but those that kill us all slowly
to the happy death that you wish to inflict upon us

i never like it, and i never like you
but here we are, under one roof of the world
they shall proclaim the greatness of your value
and i shall keep on keeping the lies about your truths.

for why should i be a hero? mortal am i,
and
i am not yet ready to die.

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When you are very old...

translation of a famous sonnet by Pierre de Ronsard (1524-1585)
from Sonnets for Hélène

When you are very old, at evening, by the fire,
spinning wool by candlelight and winding it in skeins,
you will say in wonderment as you recite my lines:
'Ronsard admired me in the days when I was fair.'

Then not one of your servants dozing gently there
hearing my name's cadence break through your low repines
but will start into wakefulness out of her dreams
and bless your name - immortalised by my desire.

I'll be underneath the ground, and a boneless shade
taking my long rest in the scented myrtle-glade,
and you'll be an old woman, nodding towards life's close,

regretting my love, and regretting your disdain.
Heed me, and live for now: this time won't come again.
Come, pluck now - today - life's so quickly-fading rose.

(translation by Anthony Weir)

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When You Call My Name

When you call my name.
Don't think of me a beast.
I did my best
And you arrested me in doubt.

When you call my name...
Don't put the blame on me.
You did admit
That we should quit
Whatever this was...
And what's done is dead!

WHY do you take time to bother me?
WHY can't your mind just rest in peace?
WHY are your trying to be so sweet?
My bitterness increases.

When you call my name.
Don't think of me a beast.
Don't think the dial tone that you hear...
Is tinged with deep hidden affection,
That has long decreased.

There is no goodness left done I can do for you!
Especially when doing my best,
To have you say I am good for nothing!
I should accept these rejections and dance?

When you call my name...
Don't put the blame on me.
You did admit
That we should quit
Whatever this was...
And what's done is dead!

My roaring days are gone!
Is that what you expected?

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When, You Became A Reality

'When, you became a reality... to me
Not” the falling petals of a dying rose.
The enchanted melting's of recent snow.
Not a tale of long ago!

'When, you became a reality to me.
A prince, a prince, but oh, oh,
Not so long ago!
My shimmering beauty

That kept me awake...
And held me to sleep
My prince you!
Had the power to make me weak?
To tremble night jitters inside
Till no longer I could be denied
Or pretend to be chic.

There are times, timeless
You put the night too music
A linguistic beat
I feel in my hearts beat
Like Lady Guinevere, my Lancelot
Your chivalry is my defeat
When times, timeless
Become the falling petals of a dying rose
I'll endlessly love you.

Not like the enchanted
Melting's of recent snow
Not like a tale of long ago...
But a moment of love so heavenly,
Not so long ago.

----

In collaboration a song written with my daughters help.

Aislinn Heathcote

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