poetry without semblance of order
Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages—-and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."
"You are old," said the youth, "And your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak--
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"
"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."
Legions of cats from the alleys nocturnal.
Howling and lean in the glare of the moon,
Screaming the future with mouthings infernal,
Yelling the Garden of Pluto's red rune.
The cottage hearth beams warm and bright,
The candles gaily glow;
The stars emit a kinder light
Above the drifted snow.
Down from the sky a magic steals
To glad the passing year,
And belfries sing with joyous peals,
For Christmastide is here!
I went into a field of flowers, whose petals are whiter than snow and whose hearts are pure gold.
Far afield a woman cried, "I have killed him I loved!" and from a jar she poured blood upon the flowers whose petals are whiter than snow and whose hearts are pure gold.
Far afield I followed, and on the jar I read a thousand names, while from within the fresh blood bubbled to the brim.
"I have killed him I loved!" she cried. "The world's athirst; now let it drink!" She passed, and far afield I watched her pouring blood upon the flowers whose petals are whiter than snow and whose hearts are pure gold.
Where the black planets roll without aim,
Where they roll in their horror unheeded,
Without knowledge or lustre or name.
He said, "Son do you remember?"
"Do you even know your name?"
Then he shined a light into my eyes
And said, "Take this for the pain."
Hopelessly drifting
Bathing in beautiful agony
I am endlessly falling
Lost in this wonderful misery
In peaceful sedation I lay half awake
And all of the panic inside starts to fade
Hopelessly drifting
Bathing in beautiful agony
"Tell me does this hurt you?"
Said the faceless man
"Can you move all of your fingers?"
"Can you try your best to stand?"
I asked about the others
Is everyone ok?
He told me not to worry
As he turned and looked away
He died at the console
Of hunger and thirst.
Next day he was buried,
Face down, 9-edge first.
Strange is the night where black stars rise,
And strange moons circle through the skies
But stranger still is
Lost Carcosa
The Lion strode through the Halls of Hell;
Across his path grim shadows fell
Of many a mowing, nameless shape
Monsters with dripping jaws agape.
The darkness shuddered with scream and yell
When the Lion stalked through the Halls of Hell.
I came to the bridge which few may pass.
"Pass!" cried the keeper, but I laughed, saying, "There is time;" and he smiled and shut the gates.
To the bridge which few may pass came young and old. All were refused. Idly I stood and counted them, until, wearied of their noise and lamentations, I came again to the bridge which few may pass.
Those in the throng about the gates shrieked out, "He comes too late!" But I laughed, saying, "There is time."
"Pass!" cried the keeper as I entered; then smiled and shut the gates.
"Who are you?" I asked the phantom,
"I am rest from Hate and Pride.
"I am friend to king and beggar,
"I am Alpha and Omega,
"I was councilor to Hagar
"But men call me suicide."
I was weary of tide breasting,
Weary of the world's behesting,
And I lusted for the resting
As a lover for his bride.
"Let the red dawn surmise
What we shall do,
When this blue starlight dies
And all is through."
A part of your soul
Ties you to the next world
Or maybe to the last
But I'm still not sure
But what I do know
Is to us the world is different
As we are to the world
I guess you would know that
Lost you there in a moment of truth
I trust you
Gave away the one and only heart
A gift to tear apart
Weaker now, drawing fluid from me
You kill me
I'm not afraid of what you have just done
But of what you've just become
To prove the Force a farce indeed,
Shimrra's will the shapers heed;
Birthing troops of mingled caste
Great Nas Choka they will outlast!
Circles an eyeball
Circles are pretty A tasty wonderful
Just like black grapes!
Slumber, watcher, till the spheres
Six and twenty thousand years
Have revolv’d, and I return
To the spot where now I burn.
Other stars anon shall rise
To the axis of the skies;
Stars that soothe and stars that bless
With a sweet forgetfulness:
Only when my round is o’er
Shall the past disturb thy door.