That is not me
Through the mirror
From which I see
Spouting lies
And histories
None that matter
Not to me.
In reverie
I am fabled
Often wickedly
Sprouting eyes
like mysteries
A ghost blown curtain
Through which you see.
And it cycles
Its cycles.
I do not know why.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
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«Oldest ‹Older 1001 – 1200 of 4808 Newer› Newest»I give you "The Musical stylings of the incomperable Todd Rundgren
What the Hell ..One More
good morning everyone!
Ergo, there's a new post!
If
"If life were but a dream, my Love,
And death the waking time;
If day had not a beam, my Love,
And night had not a rhyme, --
A barren, barren world were this
Without one saving gleam;
I'd only ask that with a kiss
You'd wake me from the dream.
If dreaming were the sum of days,
And loving were the bane;
If battling for a wreath of bays
Could soothe a heart in pain, --
I'd scorn the meed of battle's might,
All other aims above
I'd choose the human's higher right,
To suffer and to love!"
Paul Laurence Dunbar
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