Feeling bored, I decided to come up with a quatrain in iambic pentameter. The heart, blood circulation’s pumping source, Drives blood along its circulatory course, Its constant rhythm having to maintain Blood pressure in each artery and vein.
Alone I was until I met you, both lost children in this world that left us unfurled against the cold Alone we were together, the warmth each other is all we felt in a world that didn’t bother to reach out and help. To be wanted, to be loved, we both felt empty in these regards; together we healed each other’s scars Alone we walked, huddled against the cold, always seeing each other’s sadness within the eyes of those who misjudged us Walked we did, for so along on those roads, never a silence broken in a winter who’s passivity let us grow so close I walked with you, through the misery and the pain, sleet and rain; I walked with you because you helped me change Alone we were, or at least that’s the life we were dealt, Alone we were but I never felt by my self Tears I have shed, when we saw each other in pain, tears we shed masked by saturnine rains Alone we were and for that it made us stronger, together we are from here on out and always living stronger. Walk we will, even in the cold rain, walk with you I will even if we’re in pain, walk we will against a future untold Walk I will forever with the girl I am never know.
Dusty trails and rusted nails adorned this shadow town Empty husks of people walk to and fro without sound Wind blows and sun bleaches the dead and gone Dusty trails and human fragility adorn this musty town. An empty saloon, selling the brown liquor tombs of a by-gone age Creases and cracks, and wooden flaks creak with the footsteps of the day Retention of silence, a pious withdrawal as the day clocks down by the age spots on the wooden walls. The people walk but never stop for a moment to care or exchange. The go about their lives never seeking an answer why the town is this way. Revolvers in hand, death is grand for any who may happen to speak out here Lonesome walks, the wind only talks with whispers in the ears The gunslinger man, a killer so grand and traveler of the open road Calloused he is of worldly thoughts; at the cock of a hammer another body drops. Gritty and rustic he is the example of what is to become of boy in this land Kill or be killed, blood you will spill if you dare to live in the ever blowing sands. Wild and livid yet he’ll keep living by the death of what he yields in his hand A gunslinger free, a gunslinger to be when we all walk into a world of the unfamiliar Gunslinger man, steady in face and stance ride on and on until you reach the Promised Land.
Ka-Ching, Ka-Ching make that money bell ring, soak up the profits of human needs while degrading them as they feed! Ka-Ching, Ka-Ching, break some ground, pollute the sky, muck up the water remember to keep up that money supply and watch as the glaciers melt before your eyes! Ka-Ching, Ka-Ching got to make that money bell ring so dig some ditches corrupt the youth, get them to buy the crap that they produced for you! Ka-Ching, Ka-Ching break some laws that nobody reads, break all the rules to make that money bell ring! Crush some government; corrupt the masses with lies, you got to buy them out if you want them on your side! Ka-ching, Ka-Ching, watch those bank accounts spring, kill some innocence in a business deal, keep in the black even if you have to steal! Ka-Ching, Ka-Ching, money is all you need, greed is good for world economies, so put on your chain and get to work or else you’ll just end up poor in the dirt! Ka-Ching, Ka-Ching, always strive to make that money bell ring, stab some backs, cut some throats, hell bleed someone dry for a blank bank note!
this writing I am writing is less than what was written lastly, yet I enjoy writing. Differences A turn on for ?! what can't it moderate itself, ethically & integrally Pictures and moving pictures marriages is ethics getting a chance these ?days turned oh..yeah, grab a pen or a magic marker what marks a good marriage..I don't know if Good marriage had or ever will !exist Great! I believe in speaking and integrity is in a dictionary.. pretty hate, would never harm inspiration self empowerment when things are so communal I try to to get to church a Unitarian church for integrity
Let America Be America Again by Langston Hughes Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free. (America never was America to me.) Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed— Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above. (It never was America to me.) O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe. (There's never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.") Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars? I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek— And finding only the same old stupid plan Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak. I am the young man, full of strength and hope, Tangled in that ancient endless chain Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one's own greed! I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro, servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean— Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, The poorest worker bartered through the years. Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That's made America the land it has become. O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home— For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore, And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa's strand I came To build a "homeland of the free." The free? Who said the free? Not me? Surely not me? The millions on relief today? The millions shot down when we strike? The millions who have nothing for our pay? For all the dreams we've dreamed And all the songs we've sung And all the hopes we've held And all the flags we've hung, The millions who have nothing for our pay— Except the dream that's almost dead today. O, let America be America again— The land that never has been yet— And yet must be—the land where every man is free. The land that's mine—the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME— Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again. Sure, call me any ugly name you choose— The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people's lives, We must take back our land again, America! O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath— America will be! Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain— All, all the stretch of these great green states— And make America again!
When Mrs. Fraggle was working on her master's degree in English literature, she took a course in the Harlem Renaissance. Langston Hughes was one of the people who spearheaded the movement, and today his is probably the most recognizable name. Zora Neale Hurston is also well-known and it may be that her writing is a little more popular with modern readers. The U.S.A. was a major source of equipment and supplies for the British and their allies in WWI (before we entered). This required a massive increase in our industrial output. Yet the war virtually ended the steady flow of European immigrants who had been staffing our factories. This required the Northerners (who, to be frank, were only slightly less racist than the Southerners) to welcome a migration of Afro-Americans from the South. Harlem, once an upper-class enclave of ballrooms and opera houses, became a ghetto, and to this day it is still majority-black and a center of Afro-American culture. We can only wonder what Hughes would have to say about the USA in 2013. We finally have an Afro-American president, but we're still waiting for the trial of Trayvon Martin's killer, and we're all wondering what happened to the concept of "representation," as Congress ignores the issues that matter to most of us and obsesses over a deficit of their own making. He would certainly need to catch up on half a century of the environmental movement. Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
Love. We were perfect for each other, but you couldn't see. Your heart was in a mystery. I will not wait in misery, waiting for a day I may not see. It's not your fault you cannot love me. It's not your fault you cannot love me. I leave you now, just let me be. Gone.
I’ve just written a sonnet.Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! Ode to Ariel Who is Ariel? What is she? Why has she Trapped me with her charms? Won’t she set me free? Who is Ariel? What does this spirit seek? Why am I in this tempest all this week? I’m too weak to resist this magic spell That’s penetrated my defensive shell And grabbed me head to toe in long strong claws, Whispering: “That’s my Prospero, what’s yours?” I tried to run away, shake off this load, So off I scooted to 2 Chatsworth Road. She gave chase, caught me with a Latvian blonde, And now I’m back once more in Ariel’s bond. Who is Ariel? What is she anyway? I don’t know – but she looks like here to stay.
Sea Shadows Inn The world's spectrum, beware of the wrath the old woman warns as she traces her path A feather of truth versus a tear on a tee occlusions stretch over the blue and red sea Images displaced where uncertainty lies the loss at sunset, the gain at sunrise Cautious shores watch the sea shadows form revealing the cloak of the unseeing swarm Future shadows bleed into the past the turns are swift, crossroads are vast Whispering waves reappear a first, a last, year after year The old woman’s fragrance, it's “My Sin” preserving her heritage at the Sea Shadows Inn
Things Have Changed Bob Dylan I'm a worried man, got a worried mind No one in front of me, no one behind There's a woman on my lap and she's drinking champagne. Got white skin, got assassin's eyes I'm looking up into the sapphire tinted skies I'm well dressed, waiting on the last train. Standin' on the gallows with my head in a noose Any minute now I'm expectin' all hell to break loose. People are crazy and times are strange I'm locked in tight, I'm outta range I used to care, but things have changed. This place ain't doing me any good I'm in the wrong town, I should be in Hollywood Just for a second there I thought I saw something move Gonna take dancing lessons do the jitterbug rag Ain't no shortcuts, gonna dress in drag Only a fool in here would think he's got anything to prove. Lot of water under the bridge, lot of other stuff too Don't get up gentlemen, I'm only, I'm only passing through. People are crazy, times are strange I'm locked in tight, I'm out of range I used to care, but things have changed I've been walking forty miles of bad road If the bible is right, the world will explode I'm trying to get as far away from myself as I can. Things are too hot to touch The human mind can only stand so much You can't win with a losin' hand. Feel like fallin' in love with the first woman I meet Puttin' her in a wheel barrow, wheelin' her down the street. People are crazy, times are strange I'm locked in tight, I'm out of range I used to care, but things have changed. I hurt easy, I just don't show it You can hurt someone and not even know it The next sixty seconds could be like an eternity. Gonna get low down, gonna fly high All the truth in the world adds up to one big lie I'm in love with a woman that don't even appeal to me. Mr. Jinx and Miss Lucy, they, they jumped in the lake I'm not that eager, not that eager to make a mistake. People are crazy, times are strange I'm locked in tight, I'm outta range I used to care, but things have changed.
The primordial soup concept is quite hard to swallow ... The hot thermal vent isn't everyone's cup of tea ... The Incubator Planet is a new idea in its infancy ... Life first started on Mercury ... full stop.
Dignity and Vagrant Idealism An unmaterialized spiritsoul, is humored by predecessors. Materiality is basic and complete. The materialized spirit, lives amidst chance and humour willing to 'attain integrity and 'joy. <*> <*> <*> <*> <*> *subject of poem disscussive of reincarnation, 'incarnation