John Donne

John Doe

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manner of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

John Doe

Edwin Arlington Robinson. 1869–

45. Richard Corey

W HENEVER Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,	5
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king,
And admirably schooled in every grace:	10
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,	15
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

John Doe

Neutral Tones

We stood by a pond that winter day, And the sun was white, as though chidden of God, And a few leaves lay on the starving sod, —-They had fallen from an ash, and were gray. Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove Over tedious riddles solved years ago; And some words played between us to and fro-— On which lost the more by our love. The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing Alive enough to have strength to die; And a grin of bitterness swept thereby Like an ominous bird a-wing... Since then, keen lessons that love deceives, And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me Your face, and the God-curst sun, and a tree, And a pond edged with grayish leaves. -- Thomas Hardy

beksbks

I wish I could meet a woman that could

I want to fall in love with a woman
One who loved me
One who could show me I could trust her
One who showed me
That I don't have to be on my guard all the time

Don't touch me
I'll feel too good
I'll fall apart
The only thing holding me together is my pain

Henry Rollins

John Doe

William Blake - The Sick Rose

O Rose, thou art sick! The Invisible worm, That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of Crimson joy; And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.

John Doe

A. E. Housman. 1859–

32. To An Athlete Dying Young

T HE time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.

To-day, the road all runners come,	5
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay,	10
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers	15
After earth has stopped the ears:

Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.	20

So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.

And round that early-laurelled head	25
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.

Satanus

"Another Lonely Day"

by Ben Harper

Yes indeed, I'm alone again.
And here comes emptiness crashing in.
It's either love or hate,
I can't find in between,
'cause I've been with witches and I've been with a queen.

It wouldn't have worked out anyway.
So now it's just another lonely day.
Further along we just may.
But for now it's just another lonely day.

Wish there was something now I could say or do.
I can resist anything but the temptation from you.
But I'd rather walk alone than chase you around.
I'd rather fall myself than let you drag me on down.

It wouldn't have worked out anyway.
And now it's just another lonely day.
Further along we just may.
But for now, it's just another lonely day.

Yesterday seems like a life ago,
'cause the one I love today, I hardly know,
You I held so close in my heart, Oh dear,
Grow further from me with every fallen tear.

It wouldn't have worked out anyway.
So now it's just another lonely day.
Further along we just may.
But for now it's just another lonely day.
For now it's just another lonely day.
For now it's just another lonely day.

chickpea

ITHACA

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon - do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.

Constantinos Cavafys

Witness 007

"Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days, people I meet, they all go their seperate ways. Sometimes I tell the day be the bottle that I drink...sometimes when I'm alone when all you do is think. I'm a Cowboy, on a steal horse I ride, I'm wanted, wanted...dead or alive.

Bon Jovi. BEAT THAT!

snowbird

BEAT THAT!

Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the world.

Sylvia

John Donne

William Blake - The Sick Rose

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