He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,
Voices of play and pleasure after day,
Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him.
About this time Town used to swing so gay
When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees,
And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim,-
......
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
......
When I was a windy boy and a bit
And the black spit of the chapel fold,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women),
I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood,
The rude owl cried like a tell-tale tit,
I skipped in a blush as the big girls rolled
Nine-pin down on donkey's common,
And on seesaw sunday nights I wooed
Whoever I would with my wicked eyes,
The whole of the moon I could love and leave
......
The coconuts have got the jobs.
The race industry is a growth industry.
We despairing, they careering.
We want more peace they want more police.
The Uncle Toms are getting paid.
The race industry is a growth industry.
We say sisters and brothers don't fear.
They will do anything for the Mayor.
The coconuts have got the jobs.
The race industry is a growth industry.
......
From ocean's wave a Wanderer came,
With visage tanned and dun:
His Mother, when he told his name,
Scarce knew her long-lost son;
So altered was his face and frame
By the ill course he had run.
There was hot fever in his blood,
And dark thoughts in his brain;
And oh! to turn his heart to good
......
At the pit of her core
despair and darkness.
Turned from the world
in loathing revulsion.
Black as coal.
The ugliness of truth,
a withered world of weight
stares back.
......
What if I can see it, smell it, almost touch it,
That gilded throne where I will proudly sit,
Would people think me mad,
Is my ambition so preposterous and bad.
And why not me, have I not earned this crown,
Someone not worthy of that queenly gown,
Bejeweled and composed for all to see,
My vassals all around, bowing deep to me.
......
In shadows of the past,
they whispered,
bound in lace and duty,
hands busy with thread,
hearts stifled in silence,
dreams tucked beneath layers of fabric.
Time spun its wheel,
and they rose,
voices like thunder,
......
I became friends with the darkness
The sun has become a myth
The Rain was only a comforting sound
And how I missed the snow
The walls were covered in tally marks
Counting the days
But seems time has escaped me
And the monsters in my head where only getting louder
......
Women are created in the image of God just as men are
Females are seen by Jesus as genuine persons
Not simply as the objects of male desire
Every family has disagreements, conflicts
Some men treat her with bitterness and uncontrolled anger,
They quarrel with her, abuse her,
Some Men are so rude, violent, controlling, and hatred
They do not reflect the love of Christ to her
For the anger of man does not achieve the righteousness of God
......