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Patti Masterman


Biography of Patti Masterman

THIS means you

I sit before a brilliant sheet of paper.
You are going to write a fine poem, I say:
This means you.

Left and right, I cast about;
The words elusive, will not show,
The clocks hands running
Fast and slow.

I sit and study, lean and blink;
Everything's asleep, I think.
Sun goes higher, sun goes down-
And look: I have become a clown.

I go to bed, I sleep and mutter;
Even dreaming, words are stutters..
Awake, to do it all again-
Writing, you just cannot win.

I sit before a brilliant sheet of paper.
You are going to write a fine poem, I say:
This means you.


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When you are dead, he said, people will find a big pile of sheets of paper; all of your poems..Then I
just had to smile.

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God, please let me see with my heart.
Heaven alone knows how much I have missed just using my eyes.


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Urim and Thummim near his heart,
In rich engravings worn;
The sacred light of truth impart,
To teach and to adorn. ~ John Newton,
The True Aaron

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THE CHRISTMAS LETTER by John M Morris

Wherever you are when you receive this letter
I write to say we are still ourselves
In the same place
And hope you are the same.

The dead have died as you know
And will never get better,
And the children are boys and girls
Of their several ages and names.

So in closing I send you our love
And hope to hear from you soon.
There is never a time
Like the present. It lasts forever
Wherever you are. As ever I remain.

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Then the angel whom I saw standing on the sea and on the land lifted up his right hand to heaven,
And sware by him that liveth for ever and ever, who created heaven, and the things that therein are, and the earth, and the things that therein are, and the sea, and the things which are therein, that there should be time no longer.

Revelation 10

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A nostalgia for being..

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The sound of writing a poem (Morning by Robert Creeley)
http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=8K8ekc36OiQ

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'The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution.'

-Albus Dumbledore

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The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion. – Albert Camus
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My line breaks before my brain
Has amply time-adjusted,
To stop the flow of threadbare thoughts
With which my pen has lusted.

***********************************************
lines from
Poem to Be Danced
By Helen Hoyt

From “City Pastorals”

CAN a poem say my heart
While I stand still apart?
I myself would be the song,
I myself would be the rhyme,
Moving delicately along; 5
And my steps would make the time,
And the stanzas be my rest.

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Perhaps I aim too high in writing and fall flat.
At least I could not be faulted, for failing to take a leap. ;)

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WEAVE IN, MY HARDY LIFE by Walt Whitman

Weave in, weave in, my hardy life, Weave yet a soldier strong and full for great campaigns to come, Weave in red blood, weave sinews in like ropes, the senses, sight weave in, Weave lasting sure, weave day and night the weft, the warp, incessant weave, tire not (We know not what the use O life, nor know the aim, the end, nor really aught we know, But know the work, the need goes on and shall go on, the death-envelop'd march of peace as well as war goes on) , For great campaigns of peace the same the wiry threads to weave, We know not why or what, yet weave, forever weave.

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'I read your heart in a book'~ Carl Sandburg

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“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.”
~Roald Dahl

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“For ordinary books are like meteors. Each of them has only one moment, a moment when it soars screaming like the phoenix, all its pages aflame. For that single moment we love them ever after, although they soon turn to ashes. With bitter resignation we sometimes wander late at night through the extinct pages that tell their stone dead messages like wooden rosary beads.”~ Bruno Schulz, The Book

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We are put here for a little space that we may learn how to bear the beams of love ~ William Blake

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'Poetry is the devil's wine.' - St. Augustine

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'..These are the delicate demolitions of living,
destroying dreams and
slowly tearing each man apart,
until he is completely gone;
even his words burnt away,
ashes upon the wind,
scattered unto the ends of the earth,
for better or for worse...'~ Smoky Hoss of PH



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...because every day is a holiday and celebrate we must

Heart's Holiday

by Grace Fallow Norton

WITHOUT, a city’s whirling dust,
A city’s alley-wall;
Without, a bleak, pale strip of sky.
Within, high festival.

Without, no greeting between friends,
From the hurrying crowd no smile.
Within, my heart’s slow pageant moves
In glorious solemn file.

There was no call for revel. Day,
Who summons us each morn,
Came forth in dreariest garb and blew
No gala herald-horn.

But slave of day I am not—nay,
Her mistress still, I wield
The crystal sceptre of my mood,
Bearing my dream’s white shield.

Exultant, rapture-flooded, mad
With mystic inner mirth,
My heart holds her strange carnival
Unseen of all the earth.

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“Wear your heart on your skin in this life.”
— Sylvia Plath, Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams

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“I want to get back to my more normal intermediate path where the substance of the world is permeated by my being: eating food, reading, writing, talking, shopping: so all is good in itself, and not just a hectic activity to cover up the fear that must face itself and duel itself to death, saying: A Life is Passing! ”
— Sylvia Plath, “Cambridge Notes”

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HOW TO WRITE GOOD

1. Avoid Alliteration Always

2. Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.

3. The passive voice is to be avoided.

4. Avoid cliches like the plague. They're old hat.

5. It is wrong to ever split an infinitive.

6. Writers should never generalize.

Seven: Be Consistent

8. Don't use more words than necessary. It's highly
superfluous.

9. Be more or less specific.

10.Exaggeration is a billion times worse than
understatement.


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The past, the present, and the future walked into a bar. It was tense.

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Supreme Laughter By Travis Hoke

MEN laugh
When boys stand in the street
And fight because each fears the other—
For no other reason.

Men—millions—
Stand in the gutter of the world
And fight—

If God has a sense of humor—

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If I lose the light of the sun, I will write by candlelight, moonlight, no light
If I lose paper and ink, I will write in blood on forgotten walls
I will write always
I will capture nights all over the world and bring them to you. ~ Henry Rollins

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Unmitigated Verse

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”(O. Wilde)

'If you a hold a cat by the tail you learn things that you cannot learn any other way.' - Mark Twain.


Know the nature of things and you will know what they
will do. Know the nature of self, and you will know what you will become.

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S = k log W

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Though I am the algorithm
for dust into dust,
And though they may say
life arose because it must

In my body, long-dead suns still slumber on-
And in my heart, beats a universe's song.



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The anthem of my teenage years
brought to you straight from Walt Whitman,

WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D

Come lovely and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later delicate death.
Prais'd be the fathomless universe, For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious, And for love, sweet love—but praise! praise! praise! For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death.
Dark mother always gliding near with soft feet, Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome? Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all, I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly.
Approach strong deliveress, When it is so, when thou hast taken them I joyously sing the dead, Lost in the loving floating ocean of thee, Laved in the flood of thy bliss O death.
From me to thee glad serenades, Dances for thee I propose saluting thee, adornments and feastings for thee, And the sights of the open landscape and the high-spread sky are fitting, And life and the fields, and the huge and thoughtful night.
The night in silence under many a star, The ocean shore and the husky whispering wave whose voice I know, And the soul turning to thee O vast and well-veil'd death, And the body gratefully nestling close to thee.
Over the tree-tops I float thee a song, Over the rising and sinking waves, over the myriad fields and the prairies wide, Over the dense-pack'd cities all and the teeming wharves and ways, I float this carol with joy, with joy to thee O death.

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William Butler Yeats

The Cap and Bells

A QUEEN was beloved by a jester,
And once when the owls grew still
He made his soul go upward
And stand on her window sill.

In a long and straight blue garment,
It talked before morn was white,
And it had grown wise by thinking
Of a footfall hushed and light.

But the young queen would not listen;
She rose in her pale nightgown,
She drew in the brightening casement
And pushed the brass bolt down.

He bade his heart go to her,
When the bats cried out no more,
In a red and quivering garment
It sang to her through the door.

The tongue of it sweet with dreaming
Of a flutter of flower-like hair,
But she took up her fan from the table
And waved it off on the air.

'I've cap and bells, ' he pondered,
'I will send them to her and die.'
And as soon as the morn had whitened
He left them where she went by.

She laid them upon her bosom,
Under a cloud of her hair,
And her red lips sang them a love song.
The stars grew out of the air.

She opened her door and her window,
And the heart and the soul came through,
To her right hand came the red one,
To her left hand came the blue.

They set up a noise like crickets,
A chattering wise and sweet,
And her hair was a folded flower,
And the quiet of love her feet.

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Sun is red; moon is cracked
Daddy's never coming back
Nothing's ever yours to keep
Close your eyes, go to sleep
If I die before you wake
Don't you cry don't you weep
Nothing's ever as it seems
Climb the ladder to your dreams
If I die before you wake
Don't you cry; don't you weep
Nothing's ever yours to keep
Close your eyes; go to sleep

Tom Waits, Lullaby lyrics

http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=Ja9iENIjU8U&feature=related

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You might wonder how you avoid becoming lost in an infinite regress of watching your thoughts of watching your thoughts.
(These being my audible thoughts...)

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Si vis pacem, para bellum

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To turn, to turn it will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come ’round right…
– Shakers

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'A strong conviction that something must be done is the parent of many bad measures.' - Daniel Webster

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A way to understand how the stock market works

Once upon a time, in a place overrun with monkeys, a man appeared and announced to the villagers that he would buy monkeys for $10 each.
The villagers, seeing that there were many monkeys around, went out to the forest, and started catching them.
The man bought thousands at $10 and as supply started to diminish, they became harder to catch, so the villagers stopped their effort.
The man then announced that he would now pay $20 for each one. This renewed the efforts of the villagers and they started catching monkeys again. But soon the supply diminished even further and they were ever harder to catch, so people started going back to their farms and forgot about monkey catching.
The man increased his price to $25 each and the supply of monkeys became so sparse that it was an effort to even see a monkey, much less catch one.
The man now announced that he would buy monkeys for $50! However, since he had to go to the city on some business, his assistant would now buy on his behalf.
While the man was away the assistant told the villagers, “Look at all these monkeys in the big cage that the man has bought. I will sell them to you at $35 each and when the man returns from the city, you can sell them to him for $50 each.”
The villagers rounded up all their savings and bought all the monkeys.
They never saw the man nor his assistant again, and once again there were monkeys everywhere.

Now you have a better understanding of how the stock market works.

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..While walking down the street one day a Senator was tragically hit by a car and died.

His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.

“Welcome to heaven, ” says St.. Peter. “Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we’re not sure what to do with you.”

“No problem, just let me in, ” says the Senator.

“Well, I’d like to, but I have orders from the higher ups. What we’ll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity.”

“Really? , I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in heaven, ” says the Senator.

“I’m sorry, but we have our rules.”

And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.

The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course.

In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.

Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people.

They played a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and the finest champagne.

Also present is the devil, who really is a very friendly guy who is having a good time dancing and telling jokes.

They are all having such a good time that before the Senator realizes it, it is time to go.

Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises.

The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens in heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him, “Now it’s time to visit heaven…”

So,24 hours passed with the Senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.

“Well, then, you’ve spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity.”

The Senator reflects for a minute, then he answers: “Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell.”

So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell…

Now the doors of the elevator open and he’s in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage.

He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls to the ground.

The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulders.

“I don’t understand, ” stammers the Senator. “Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there’s just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened? ”

The devil smiles at him and says,
“Yesterday we were campaigning, Today, you voted..”

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The Black Horse

'And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand.6 And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine.' Revelation 6: 5-6
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Boot Camp Chants


US ARMY CHANT …

I went down to the market where all the women shop;
I pulled out my machete and I begin to chop;
I went down to the park where all the children play;
I pulled out my machine gun and I begin to spray.


BlOOD ON THE RISERS
(Gory, Gory What a Helluva Way to Die)

He was just a rookie trooper and he surely shook with fright,
He checked off his equipment and made sure his pack was tight;
He had to sit and listen to those awful engines roar,
'You ain't gonna jump no more! '

(CHORUS)
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
With your rifle in your right hand as you're falling through the sky.
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
And he ain't gonna jump no more!

'Is everybody happy? ' cried the Sergeant looking up,
Our Hero feebly answered 'Yes, ' and then they stood him up;
He jumped into the icy blast, his static line unhooked,
And he ain't gonna jump no more.

(CHORUS)

He counted long, he counted loud, he waited for the shock,
He felt the wind, he felt the cold, he felt the awful drop,
The silk from his reserve spilled out and wrapped around his legs,
And he ain't gonna jump no more.

(CHORUS)

The risers wrapped around his neck, connectors cracked his dome,
Suspension lines were tied in knots around his skinny bones;
The canopy became his shroud; he hurtled to the ground.
And he ain't gonna jump no more.

(CHORUS)

The days he'd lived and loved and laughed kept running through his mind,
He thought about the girl back home, the one he'd left behind;
He thought about the medics, and wondered what they'd find,
And he ain't gonna jump no more.

(CHORUS)

The ambulance was on the spot, the jeeps were running wild,
The medics jumped and screamed with glee, rolled up their sleeves and smiled,
For it had been a week or more since last a 'chute had failed,
And he ain't gonna jump no more.

(CHORUS)

He hit the ground, the sound was 'SPLAT', his blood went spurting high;
His comrades, they were heard to say 'A hell of a way to die! '
He lay there, rolling 'round in the welter of his gore,
And he ain't gonna jump no more.

(CHORUS)

(slowly, solemnly; about half the speed of the other verses)
There was blood upon the risers, there were brains upon the chute,
Intestines were a-dangling from his paratrooper suit,
He was a mess, they picked him up and poured him from his boots,
And he ain't gonna jump no more.

(CHORUS)

And at the gates of heaven, to Saint Peter he shall tell,
One more soldier reporting sir! I've served my time in hell,
Saint Peter will just smile and say you have severed you country well,
And he ain't gonna jump no more.,

Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
And he ain't gonna jump no more!


HAIL OH HAIL OH INFANTRY ARMY CADENCE

'I'm a big bird in the sky all will jump and some will die, off to battle we will go, to live or die hell I don't know! '

Up in the morning out the rack
Greeted at dawn with an early attack
1st sgt. rushes me off the chow
but i dont eat it anyhow

Hail oh Hail Oh infantry (repeat) (CHORUS)
Bring the battle or follow me
An airborne ranger life for me
where nothing in this world is freee

Im a big bird in the sky
all will jump and some will die
off to battle we will go
to live or die hell i dont know

(Chorus)

Early at night its drizzling rain
i am hit and feel no pain
but in my heart I have no fear
because my ranger God is here

(Chorus)

The mortars and artillery
The screaming verse around me
Jaggy shrapnel on the fly
kills my buddy, makes me cry

(Chorus)


THE PRETTIEST GIRL I EVER SAW USMC

The prettiest girl
i ever saw
was sippin bourbon
through a straw.

I picked her up, (x2)
i layed her down,
her long black hair,
layed all around

and now i have,
a mother in law,
and 14 kids,
who call me pa

the moral of,
the story is clear,
instead of bourbon,
stick to beer.


LIL YELLOW BIRDIE USMC

Lil yellow birdie with a lil yellow bill
Landed on my window sill
Lured him in with a lil piece a bread
Then I crushed his lil f***ing head
Me oh my I am such a clutz
I missed his head and hit his nutz


THERE WAS A GIRL WHO WORE A YELLOW RIBBON USMC

here was a girl who wore a yellow ribbon,
She wore it in the spring time in the merry month of May.
If you asked her why she wore that ribbon,
She wore it for the young Marine so far, far, away.
Far away, Far away,
She wore it for the young Marine so far, far, away.
Around the block she pushed a baby carriage,
She pushed it in the spring time in the merry month of May.
If you asked her why the heck she pushed it,
She pushed it for the young Marine so far, far, away.
Far away, Far away,
She pushed it for the young Marine so far, far, away.
In her house her daddy has a shotgun,
He has it in the spring time in the merry month of May.
If you asked him why the heck he has it,
He has it for the young Marine so far, far, away.
Far away, Far away,
He has it for the young Marine so far, far, away


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My hands are tied
The billions shift from side to side
And the wars go on with brainwashed pride
For the love of god and our human rights
And all these things are swept aside
By bloody hands time can’t deny
And are washed away by your genocide
And history hides the lies of our civil wars

D’you wear a black armband
When they shot the man
Who said “peace could last forever”
And in my first memories
They shot Kennedy
I went numb when I learned to see
So I never fell for Vietnam
We got the wall of D.C. to remind us all
That you can’t trust freedom
When it’s not in your hands
When everybody’s fightin’
For their promised land
And

I don’t need your civil war
It feeds the rich while it buries the poor
Your power hungry sellin’ soldiers
In a human grocery store
Ain’t that fresh
I don’t need your civil war

- Guns and Roses “Civil War”


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Ladies and Gentleman, nobles and tramps
Cross eyed Mosquitoes and bow legged ants.
I come before you to stand behind you,
to tell you a story I do not know.

One bright day in the middle of the night.
Two dead boys got up to fight.
Back to back they faced each other
pulled out their swards and shot each other.

Near by a deaf policeman heard the noise,
came by and shot the two dead boys.
If you don't believe what I just told you,
ask the blind man he saw it too.

(not written by me, a passed on traditional American verse, as I understand it)


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Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut~
Ernest Hemingway

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Henry Rollins Quotes

I believe that one defines oneself by reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself. To cut yourself out of stone.

Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue

The best revenge is to survive yourself

If I lose the light of the sun, I will write by candlelight, moonlight, no light
If I lose paper and ink, I will write in blood on forgotten walls
I will write always
I will capture nights all over the world and bring them to you.

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Deng Xiaoping: 'Hide Your Strength, Bide Your Time.'

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Language is negotiated meaning

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Dylan Thomas….
The Force that Through the Green Fuse Drives the Flower

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.

The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.

The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather’s wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.

And I am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.

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As Ulysses observed
'Then every thing includes itself in power,
Power into will, will into appetite;
And appetite, an universal wolf,
So doubly seconded with will and power,
Must make perforce an universal prey,
And last eat up himself'
(W.Shakespeare, Troilus & Cressida)

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Homo homini lupus. Man is man´s wolf.
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The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.
Marcus Tullius Cicero

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Language is an anonymous, collective, and unconscious art; the result of the creativity of thousands of generations. -Edward Sapir, anthropologist, linguist (1884-1939)
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Dance like nobody's watching;
Love like you've never been hurt.
Sing like nobody's listening
Live like it's heaven on earth.

~Mark Twain~











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The Life That I Have

The life that I have
Is all that I have
And the life that I have
Is yours

The love that I have
Of the life that I have
Is yours and yours and yours.

A sleep I shall have
A rest I shall have
Yet death will be but a pause
For the peace of my years
In the long green grass
Will be yours and yours and yours.

Leo Marks
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from the Grateful Dead- The Wheel lyrics

The wheel is turning
and you can't slow down
You can't let go
and you can't hold on
You can't go back
and you can't stand still
If the thunder don't get you
then the lightning will

-Robert Hunter-


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'And in knowing that you know nothing, that makes you the smartest of all.' - Socrates

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The night is darkening round me by Emily Jane Bronte


The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me,
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow;
The storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.

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'3 When the Lamb opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, 'Come! ' 4 Then another horse came out, a fiery red one. Its rider was given power to take peace from the earth and to make people kill each other. To him was given a large sword'. Revelations 6: 3-4



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All Is Well
Death is nothing at all,
I have only slipped into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way which you always used
Put no difference in your tone,
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household world that it always was,
Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was, there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near,
Just around the corner.
All is well.
Henry Scott Holland
1847-1918
Canon of St Paul 's Cathedral
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'Whoever wishes to take over the world will not succeed. The world is a sacred vessel and nothing should be done to it. Whoever tries to tamper with it will mar it. Whoever tries to grab it will lose it.'

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Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

- Yeats, The Second Coming


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O Vos Omnes

O Vos Omnes from 'Responsorium' by Philip Rice

O vos omnes qui transitis per viam, attendite et videte:
Si est dolor similis sicut dolor meus.
Attendite, universi populi, et videte dolorem meum.
Si est dolor similis sicut dolor meus.

O all you who walk by on the road, pay attention and see:
if there be any sorrow like my sorrow.
Pay attention, all people, and look at my sorrow:
if there be any sorrow like my sorrow.

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NOSTRADAMUS QUATRAIN #2-13

The body without a soul can no longer be sacrificed,

Le corps sans ame n'estre en sacrifice,

The day of death is a day of rebirth;

Jour de la mort mis en nativite;

The divine spirit will make the soul joyful,

L'esprit divin fera l'ame felice,

Witnessing the Holy Word in its eternity.

Voiant le Verbe en son eternite.

This is one of the most intriguing of all Nostradamus' prophecies. It is his statement on death. The great prophet believed that man is born once of water (from the womb) , and then once again of the spirit (at the moment of death) . (John 3: 5) .

http: //www.godswatcher.com/quatrains2.htm
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All of your demons will wither away
Ecstasy comes and they cannot stay
You'll understand when you come my way
Coz all of my demons have withered away

Fatboy Slim, Demons
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A woman is half a man in work-force, and two men
in endurance, and three men in patience.

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In a world without death, the Dr. Kevorkians would be gods.

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Yochi J. Dreazen, The Wall Street Journal:
'Inmates at the U.S. military prison at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, used pebbles to scratch messages into the foam cups they got with their meals. When the guards weren't looking, they passed the cups from cell to cell. It was a crude but effective way of communicating.
The prisoners weren't passing along escape plans or information about future terrorist attacks. They were sending one another poems.'

http: //www.amazon.com/Poems-Guantanamo-Detainees-Marc-Falkoff/dp/1587296063

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Groucho Marx - Laws of the Administration

Spoken:
Lady:
If it's not asking too much,

Sung:
For our information
Just for illustration
Tell us how you intend to run the nation

Rufus T. Firefly:
These are the laws of my administration

No one's allowed to smoke
Or tell a dirty joke
And whistling is forbidden

Chorus:
We're not allowed to tell a dirty joke

Hail, hail Freedonia

Rufus:
If chewing gum is chewed
The chewer is pursued
And in the hooscall hidden

Chorus:
If we choose to chew we'll be pursued

Rufus:
If any form of pleasure is exhibited
Report to me and it will be prohibited
I'll put my foot down, so shall it be
This is the land of the free

The last man nearly ruined this place
He didn't know what to do with it
If you think this country's bad off now,
Just wait 'til I get through with it

The country's taxes must be fixed
And I know what to do with it
If you think you're paying too much now
Just wait till I get through with it

*whistle*

I will not stand for anything that's crooked or unfair
I'm strictly on the upper knot, so everyone beware
If any man's caught taking graft, and I don't get my share
We stand'im up against the wall and pop! Goes the weasel

Chorus:
So everyone beware, you're stricken or unfair
-unless he gets his share

Rufus:
If any man should come between a husband and his bride
We'll find out which one she prefers by letting her decide
If she prefers the other man, the husband steps outside
We stand him up against the wall and pop! Goes the weasel

Chorus:
The husband steps outside, relinquishes his bride
They stand him up against the wall and pop! Goes the
weasel

source: http: //www.lyricsondemand.com/
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Richard Pryor Quotes

'The reason people use a crucifix against vampires
is that vampires are allergic to bullshit.'

'I had to stop drinkin', cuz I got tired of waking in my car driving ninety.'

'Everyone carries around his own monsters.'

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John the farmer was in the fertilized-egg business. He had several hundred young layers (hens) , called 'pullets', and ten roosters, whose job it was to fertilize the eggs (for you city folks) .
The farmer kept records and any rooster that didn't perform went into the soup pot and was replaced. That took an awful lot of his time, so he bought a set of tiny bells and attached them to his roosters. Each
bell had a different tone so John could tell from a distance, which rooster was performing. Now he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report simply by listening to the bells.
The farmer's favorite rooster was old Butch, and a very fine specimen he was, too. But on one particular morning John noticed old Butch's bell hadn't rung at all! John went to investigate.
The other roosters were chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing. The pullets, hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover. But to Farmer John's amazement, old Butch had his bell in his beak, so it couldn't ring. He would sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one.
John was so proud of old Butch, he entered him in the County Fair and he became an overnight sensation among the judges.
The result.. The judges not only awarded old Butch the No Bell Piece Prize but they also awarded him the Pulletsurprise as well.
Clearly old Butch was a politician in the making: Who else but a politician could figure out how to win two of the most highly coveted awards on our planet by being the best at sneaking up on the populace and screwing them when they weren't paying attention.

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The Silence By Anna Wickham

WHEN I meet you, I greet you with a stare,
Like a poor shy child at a fair.
I will not let you love me—yet am I weak,
I love you so intensely that I cannot speak.
When you are gone I stand apart,
And whisper to your image in my heart.

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Teenager Post #1922

Roses are Blue. Violets
are Unicorns. This
Poem doesn't make any
sense. Refrigerator.

//teenagerposts.tumblr


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Sleep resets the brain
Death resets the soul

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World, that hangs on the thin thread of time,
In space, where the suns all are singing,
Please hold us close, to your milky bosom;
And then gather us in, to your being.

from A Prayer for Unbelievers

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Protect Life

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A bit of bio, insights to my mind


I decided at a very young age that poetry was the most
special thing of all; it was like music, without the notes, to me,
and could be read, enjoyed anywhere (not like real music) .
I decided that was the thing I wanted to do most of all.
As a young child, I carried around a battered spiral notebook
with every poem I wrote in it, and if I wrote a poem for a school
assignment, it went into the notebook. Alas, one year I
was taken with a terrible ache to have a dog (our small
chihuahua having died years earlier, a dog already old when
I was born. I have vague memories of tormenting the poor
dog, but I was innocent mostly, not understanding why it continually
bit my nose) (The dog was probably happy to die and escape
my damnably inquisitive hands) . You can see why I wanted a dog so badly..no one to bite my nose anymore. That little dog had the worst
breath..(smile) . adopted a German Shepherd puppy (I must have had it figured to be a quality dog, by then I think there were the German Shepherd police dogs?) With the aid of my parents, who located the address and drove the car to the location specified in the classifed
ad (free puppies to good home, naturally, and I knew my home
was good!) . So I acquired a wriggling puppy and gave him the kingly
name of Rex, and so did not expect any bad behavior from him.
One day I left the notebook lying about outside; I had just
written what I thought was possibly the best poem yet, and probably
went inside to celebrate with chocolate milk or some
childish snack like that. Lightning struck while I was gone.
I came out and there was no notebook anymore; just a twisted
coil of wire, some wet lumps of paper/blue cardboard..I can
still see it now. I had no backup copies, as I considered the
universe trustworthy..at least back then.
After my parents had passed on and we were emptying the
house for needed repairs (having to gut the central
part, due to water damage, really a nightmare) , behind my mothers
tall chest of drawers there was a fallen piece of construction paper,
an assignment of writing poetry for an early childhood class, (with
illustrations, no less!) So I retrieved a tiny part of the lost
notebook. The quality was not nearly so good..as in my imaginings
(smile) .
I began working as soon as I graduated, my family had
a strong work ethic, and malingerers were not to be abetted..
that kept me pretty busy, but I managed a few poems over
the years. I worked in a sweatshop (printing industry) and
though I hadn't much time for hobbies (I made a good pass
at having sleeping as my hobby, when I got the chance to do it)
I had a good amount of savings then, due to so many hours of overtime.
I saved my poems in another (thicker, bluer) notebook, and
this time fate did not decide destroy it) (Also I did not leave it in the company of young, bored dogs of uncertain breeding) . Sometimes when writers block has me in tow, I will go find a poem in there I never
did anything with, and try to salvage it if possible. Probably
there are only a few left in there not re-worked and posted
here at Poemhunter.. As I grew old, and older, I decided that
when writing, the things I should focus on are things special
to me; my unsung miracles, my experiences that I feel
nobody else has had or maybe few have, or viewpoints that seem
different and could use some explaining; anything out of the
ordinary, in other words. If I had one word that I think should describe
a poem, it should be the word 'Extraordinary'. And if I miss that mark
in writing, that explains why there aren't millions of popular
well-known poems. Because they are rare and truly special..
extraordinary things from daily life. So there are a few
poems from when I was in love for the first time (really in
love) , also from pregnancy, giving birth, losing my parents, etc.
Sometimes I don't know just why I wrote something, sometimes
I didn't know what I was going to write, and was pleasantly
surprised when it was finished. I have an imitative imp living inside
me, I think, that wants to imitate everything good it sees anywhere
around it, put down in the written word, and I think
you will find a good deal of such things in my poetry. Maybe
I should apologize for that, but that's just a part of what makes
me tick as a writer, I suppose.

Patti Masterman's Works:

my words are hidden in plain sight- wonderful secret!
for as long as you continue to read my words here I am immortal ;)


Sometimes when someone sings, you can catch a glimpse of their soul.. as it flies by...
https: //soundcloud.com/nina-violet/10-fill-the-well-up

PoemHunter.com Updates

Anti-Love Poem #2

Ever since Romeo and Juliet
Repulsed lovers have considered suicide
As just an offshoot of unrequited love-
Even if the love was refused from the start
Or only existed as a delusion in the mind of the deluded.

I suggest that in modern life
What with plastics, antibiotics, and all this stuff
We have other options to the suicide-only impulse

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