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Previous post: True But Forbidden 10
He thought he kept the universe alone;
For all the voice in answer he could wake
Was but the mocking echo of his own
From some tree-hidden cliff across the lake.
Some morning from the boulder-broken beach
He would cry out on life, that what it wants
Is not its own love back in copy speech,
But counter-love, original response.
And nothing ever came of what he cried
Unless it was the embodiment that crashed
In the cliff’s talus on the other side,
And then in the far distant water splashed,
But after a time allowed for it to swim,
Instead of proving human when it neared
And someone else additional to him,
As a great buck it powerfully appeared,
Pushing the crumpled water up ahead,
And landed pouring like a waterfall,
And stumbled through the rocks with horny tread,
And forced the underbrush–and that was all.
When all Earth’s seas shall Levitate,
Dark shawled within the skies,
Upon our eyes will Starfish dance
Their waltz of Blind surprise.
The sun will Rise within wine Dark
As Argonauts imbibed,
Whose drunken arms embrace that sleep
Where Phaeton’s horses Stride.
Upon all of Earth’s wind-sanded shores,
As dolphins Learn to soar,
All we once were on the land
Shall be sealed behind the door
Of Ivory and Chastened Gold,
That the Mystery solved complete
Shall never til the seas’ Long fall
Wake mariners from their sleep.
— Van der Leun
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this
air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
— Walt Whitman
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
— The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot
Gerard Van der Leun
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I could have done without all of that.
Thanks.
Made me laugh.
She could perform the Bhangra dance with le petit Justin, the reason why we need a wall along our border with the Great White North: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8ypraEielc
That’s just sad.
Instantly went from funny to sad.
Another victim of the failed “war on drugs”. Build the wall and kill all drug dealers who specialize in coke and meth. Just line ’em up and shoot ’em.
+1 on Jack’s comment. I’d like to add heroin to the coke and meth he mentioned. Biggest manufacturer of heroin? Mexico. Biggest producer of heroin’s raw ingredient? Afghanistan. Build the wall/ border security and get out of Afghanistan, Mr. President. Stop the kabuki theater/ pro-wrestling show and get it done:
https://heroin.net/types-of-heroin/by-area-of-origin/
When my twins were wee toddlers, pushers moved into the apartment below us. As we immediately found out, law is never on the side of the law abiding. We tried every legal remedy to have them removed. No success. Finally, opportunity came knocking when the old lady across the street died and her house stood empty. I only ventured out with the babies when the thugs were asleep…they stayed up all night and slept from sunrise to sunset.
And what a glorious opportunity for revenge it was.
The next door neighbor, Mr. Crotchety Old Gossip came out to rant about last night’s noise and I told him that the FBI had moved into the empty house across the street. But please don’t say anything. I wasn’t supposed to be talking about it.
Needless to say, the problem neighbors moved out that very hour.
Excellent, Jewel; not to mention, Outstanding!
She straddles the line between utterly free spirit and feral human. For her, lunacy would be a godsend.
Same bee gee song done to North Koreans marching. I get a perverted kick from watching the Nork women soldiers march.
We had two tweaker friends die recently, boyfriend and girlfriend. He had heart problems, then a heart attack. He died over a year ago. She died this fall. She had a stroke, major brain bleed at the base of her brain. Nothing they could do. You can’t overdose on meth, you know. It seems to be hard for folks to give up
A new definition of eternity (besides two people and a baked ham) is sitting, jammed against a window seat, next to a tweaker on a 5 1/2 hour flight. Tweaker girl, all decked out in what looked like army issue long johns, no coat in January, no carryons, and complicated, bondage looking boots, alternated between banging her head on her tray table and flipping her waist length hair up and over her head, jabbing me every so often or so with her elbow while doing this. While it was tragic in an abstract way, it was also very disturbing and frightening and seemed like it w et on for eternity. The flight crew did nothing, hoping, I think, not to escalate the situation. This is the new, horrible normal.
EMTs will finally quit reviving people and just say …after the third time trying…on your way then. Somewhere down the line some star chamber is going to sentence these people to disappear.