'Tis good—the looking back on Grief—
To re-endure a Day—
We thought the Mighty Funeral—
Of All Conceived Joy—
To recollect how Busy Grass
Did meddle—one by one—
Till all the Grief with Summer—waved
"There where that ray touches the plain
And the shadows escape as if they really ran,
Warsaw stands, open from all sides,
A city not very old but quite famous.
"Farther, where strings of rain hang from a little cloud,
Under the hills with an acacia grove
Is Prague. Above it, a marvelous castle
Shored against a slope in accordance with old rules.
If Jesus was born today
it would be in a downtown motel
marked by a helicopter's flashing bulb.
A traffic warden, working late,
would be the first upon the scene.
Later, at the expense of a TV network,
an eminent sociologist,
the host of a chat show
and a controversial author
would arrive with their good wishes
I was born in 1902
I never once went back to my birthplace
I don't like to turn back
at three I served as a pasha's grandson in Aleppo
at nineteen as a student at Moscow Communist University
at forty-nine I was back in Moscow as the Tcheka Party's guest
and I've been a poet since I was fourteen
some people know all about plants some about fish
I know separation
some people know the names of the stars by heart
My mother loved her horses and
Her hounds of pedigree;
She did not kiss the baby hand
I held to her in glee.
Of course I had a sweet nou-nou
Who tended me with care,
And mother reined her nag to view
Me with a critic air.
So I went to a famous school,
What a love?
dead on ego
what a love
broken to heart
what a love
waiting with seashore
what a love?
Those who came before know it is not a battle but a war that must be fought and won once again by those much younger than them
And those who love god rage because the one they praise is not Holy, but depraved
How could such devastation take place if this god of love really does rein
United we should stand against the evil hand of oppression
The halt that has been put on progression
The stifling darkness of depression
We’re caught in a war of draining night,
Just me who i am with in this body I own,
Forever changing I understand I have grown,
Many challenges I have faced,
All the dreams I have chased,
Just me in the room i call home,
Thinking of how to set the tone,
Will it be a graceful day i have today,
Or do I falter to pretend I'm ok,
Just me I count on so many times,
How long will you Run? How long will you hold steam
in the sun?
When will you be done? Is life a race to be Won?
Dashed into multitude of races and timeless chases
Huffing and puffing, landing in empty spaces
Chasing mysterious mirages and feeling restless
In this gold rush, death will blush, leaving ya
The time will perish and days will pass
All the treasure’s gone, once ya buried under grass
The subtle beauty of this day
Hangs o'er me like a fairy spell,
And care and grief have flown away,
And every breeze sings, "all is well."
I ask, "Holds earth or sin, or woe?"
My heart replies, "I do not know."
Nay! all we know, or feel, my heart,
Today is joy undimmed, complete;
In tears or pain we have no part;