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Living with a broken anxious mind,
It's like living with an abomination in your mind,
With tons of words popping through your mind,
No matter how you stop it,
I still remember the day I saw you
What you wore how you looked
And I did some stupid things I can't lie
Maybe because I was still but a child
When my words don't matter to you
What will my silence do?
When I can't trust you,
Why do I still want to
Two pairs of notebook, four pairs of dress,
Matching top with footwear was a worry, BUT there was no stress.
Waking up for 8 Am class was hard, running to SJT was a pain,
In All Ways A Woman
In my young years I took pride in the fact that luck was called a lady. In fact, there were so few public acknowledgments of the female presence that I felt personally honored whenever nature and large ships were referred to as feminine. But as I matured, I began to resent being considered a sister to a changeling as fickle as luck, as aloof as an ocean, and as frivolous as nature. The phrase 'A woman always has the right to change her mind' played so aptly into the negative image of the female that I made myself a victim to an unwavering decision. Even if I made an inane and stupid choice, I stuck by it rather than 'be like a woman and change my mind.'
Being a woman is hard work. Not without joy and even ecstasy, but still relentless, unending work. Becoming an old female may require only being born with certain genitalia, inheriting long-living genes and the fortune not to be run over by an out-of-control truck, but to become and remain a woman command the existence and employment of genius.
God in His infinite wisdom
Did not make me very wise-
So when my actions are stupid
They hardly take God by surprise
Stupid Pencil Maker
Some dummy built this pencil wrong,
The eraser's down here where the point belongs,
And the point's at the top - so it's no good to me,
It's amazing how stupid some people can be.
I shame this face, i try to hide
Critics discussed that i can't fight,
Thus i believe them they right,
Mirrors talk back; they can't lie,
S. A. Marionette
The Open Steeplechase
I had ridden over hurdles up the country once or twice,
By the side of Snowy River with a horse they called 'The Ace'.
And we brought him down to Sydney, and our rider, Jimmy Rice,
Got a fall and broke his shoulder, so they nabbed me in a trice,
HARK! Young Democracy from sleep
Our careless sentries raps:
A backwash from the Futureâ??s deep
Our Evilâ??s foreland laps.
Father is quite the greatest poet
That ever lived anywhere.
You say you're going to write great music-
I chose that first: it's unfair.
The three stood listening to a fresh access
Of wind that caught against the house a moment,
Gulped snow, and then blew free again-the Coles
Dressed, but dishevelled from some hours of sleep,
(Self-Portrait) Omens and Astrology. A desert flat and undisturbed, stupid and forlorn. Sunless. a caravan of failures. Pons Asinorum and the Feast of the Ass and revolt against standardized American childhood.
War and Violence.
Catapults and Torches and the first stray thrusts of Sun into the Soul. Bombardments and Bordels. Heraldry and High Walls. Too rigid to crumble but not too strong to fracture.
HOW very hard it is to be
A Christian! Hard for you and me,
â??Not the mere task of making real
That duty up to its ideal,
"There's something in your face, Michael, I've seen it all the day;
There's something quare that wasn't there when first ye wint away. . . ."
"It's just the Army life, mother, the drill, the left and right,
Robert William Service
The Poor Man's Lamb
NOW spent the alter'd King, in am'rous Cares,
The Hours of sacred Hymns and solemn Pray'rs:
In vain the Alter waits his slow returns,
Where unattended Incense faintly burns:
Anne Kingsmill Finch
My tangoing seemed to delight her;
With me it was love at first sight.
I mentioned That I was a writer:
She asked me: “What is it you write?”
What Is Fancy?
I am to write three lines, and you
Three others that will rhyme.
There-now I've done my task.
In ev'ry age, and each profession,
Men err the most by prepossession;
But when the thing is clearly shown,
And fairly stated, fully known,
The Cremona Violin: Part 01
Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door.
A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind
Swirled through the trees, and scattered leaves before
Her on the clean, flagged path. The sky behind
By night we looked across my field,
The tasseled corn was fine to see,
The moon was yellow on the rows
And seemed so wonderful to me,
John Crowe Ransom
Bread, Hashish And Moon
When the moon is born in the east,
And the white rooftops drift asleep
Under the heaped-up light,
People leave their shops and march forth in groups
Oft have I brooded on defeat and pain,
The pathos of the stupid, stumbling throng.
These I ignore to-day and only long
To pour my soul forth in one trumpet strain,
In the spring I asked the daisies
If his words were true,
And the clever little daisies
The Paper Windmill
The little boy pressed his face against the window-pane and looked out
at the bright sunshiny morning. The cobble-stones of the square
glistened like mica. In the trees, a breeze danced and pranced,
and shook drops of sunlight like falling golden coins into the brown water
I only said, "When in the evening the round full moon gets
entangled among the beaches of that Dadam tree, couldn't somebody
But dada laughed at me and said, "Baby, you are the silliest
'SWEET are the lanes and the hedges, the fields made red with the clover,
With tall field-sorrel, and daisies, and golden buttercups glowing;
Among his books he sits all day
To think and read and write;
He does not smell the new-mown hay,
The roses red and white.
He dropped,-more sullenly than wearily,
Lay stupid like a cod, heavy like meat,
And none of us could kick him to his feet;
Just blinked at my revolver, blearily;
The Shivering Beggar
Near Clapham village, where fields began,
Saint Edward met a beggar man.
It was Christmas morning, the church bells tolled,
The old man trembled for the fierce cold.
When I see you, who were so wise and cool,
Gazing with silly sickness on that fool
You've given your love to, your adoring hands
Touch his so intimately that each understands,