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'Sonnet
29' - W. Shakespeare
When
in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
'Taken
from the shadow of the dark queen' - Raymond E. Fiest
Days
when the ball of our vision,
Had eagles that flew unabashed to sun,
When grasp on bow was decision,
And hand, eye, and bow were one,
When the pleasures as waves to a swimmer,
Came heaving for rapture ahead,
Invoke them, they dwindle, they glimmer,
As lights over mounds of the dead.
'Lodemy'
- A. M. Berthier
Lodemy, Lodemy,
Sitting in the corners of the world
Where furtive happiness was once a find,
Oh, let me have her!
Take away the land, the sea, the time,
Let her be mine.
Lodemy, Lodemy,
Elusive, transient thing!
Why is she always tempered in her singing
By the noise, the noise that kills the primal call?
Oh, Lodemy!
She is not mine at all,
But a taste or scent that lingers in the mouths of men,
To see them craving, sickening for something, retching,
Calling out in wretched, bloodied, cracking voices:
"Oh, let her be mine!"
It never was her time.
'Man'
I haven't got a home,
My place is where I am,
Draw my blood, hurt me,
I'm just a man,
I wish your bliss was my ignorance,
You opened my mind, you left an open door
This sparrow's wings, broken in mid-flight;
Fill this hole, this gaping wound,
A gash to spill on your clean white clothes,
My rage is your calm
After
all, I'm just a man.
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