Be not afraid to dispose oneself for love. For within such a frame are riches far beyond a thousand kings. Suppressing even the thought, suppresses one's ability to allow oxygen to enter the chest. Such a sham would dilate the opportunity for loss far greater than this earth.

overwhelmingthoughts.

distinctive noses

not black hair

I dream of him--

I wonder if he thinks of me

because

my love for him could fill the sea. 

Beckoning my soul

I feel the invisible

strings. 

how many kings?

follow a star to a place unexpected

would you believe after all we've projected 

a child in a manger

lowly and small, the weakest of all

unlikeliest hero, wrapped in his mother's shawl

just a child

is this who we've waited for?

cause how many kings stepped down from their thrones?

how many lords have abandoned their homes? 

how many greats have become the least for me?

how many gods have poured out their hearts

to romance a world that has torn all apart?

how many fathers gave up their sons for me?

bringing our gifts for the newborn savior

all that we have, whether costly or meek

because we believe

gold for his honor and frankincense for his pleasure

and myrrh for the cross he'll suffer

do you believe

is this who we've waited for?

how many kings stepped down from their thrones?

how many lords have abandoned their homes?

how many greats have become the least, for me?

how many gods have poured out their hearts

to romance a world that has torn all apart?

how many fathers gave up their sons for me?

only one did that for me. 

da moose

da moose, da moose, da moose, da moose,

swimming in the water, swimming in the water, 

eating his dinner, eating his dinner,

where did he go?

HE WENT TO SLEEP. 

da moose, da moose, da moose, da moose,

swimming in the water, swimming in the water,

eating his dinner, eating his dinner, 

where did he go?

HE WENT TO SLEEP.

now this is where it gets really sad. . .

da moose, da moose, da moose, da moose,

floating in the water, floating in the water,

not eating his dinner, not eating his dinner, 

where did he go? 

HE DECOMPOSED!! 

love

"I will plant her for myself in the land; 

I will show my love to the one I called

'Not my loved one.'

I will say to those called 'Not my 

people,' 'You are my people';

and they will say, 'You are my God.'"

Hosea 2:23

Image

Old houses were scaffolding once
and workmen whistling.

T.E. Hulme

Terence, this is stupid stuff

Terence, this is stupid stuff:
You eat your victuals fast enough;
There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear,
To see the rate you drink your beer.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make,
It gives a cha the belly-ache.
The cow, the old cow, she is dead;
It sleeps well, the horned head:
To hear such tunes as killed the cow.
Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme
Your friendship to death before their time
Moping melancholy mad:
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.

Why, if 'tis dancing you would be,
There's brisker pipes than poetry.
Say, for what were hop-yards meant,
Or why was Burton built on Trent?
Oh many a beer of England brews
Livelier liquor than the Muse,
And malt does more than Milton can
To justify God's ways to man.
Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink
For fellows whom it hurts to think:
Look into the pewter pot
To see the world as the world's not.
And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past:
The mischief is that 'twill not last.
Oh I have been to Ludlow fair
And left my necktie God knows where,
And carried half way home, or near,
Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer:
Then the world seemed none so bad,
And I myself a sterling lad;
And down in lovely muck I've lain,
Happy till I woke again.
Then I saw the morning sky:
Heigho, the tale was all a lie;
The world, it was the old world yet,
I was I, my things were wet,
And nothing now remained to do
But begin the game anew.

Therefore, since the world has still
Much good, but much less good that ill,
And while the sun and moon endure
Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure.
I'd face it as a wise man would,
And train for ill and not for good
'Tis true, the stuff I bring for sale
Is not so brisk a brew as ale:
Out of a stem that scored the hand
I wrung it in a weary land.
But take it: if the smack is sour,
The better for the embittered hour;
It should do good to heart and head
When your soul is in my soul's stead;
And I will friend you, if I may,
In the dark and cloudy day.

There was a king reigned in the East
There, when kings will sit to feast,
They get their fill before they think
With poisoned meat and poisoned drink.
He gathered all the springs to birth
From the many-venomed earth;
First a little, thence to more,
He sampled all her killing store;
And easy, smiling, seasoned sound,
Sate the king when healths went round.
They put arsenic in his meat
And stared aghast to watch him eat;
They poured strychnine in his cup
And shook to see him drink it up:
They shook, they stared as white's their shirt:
Them it was their poison hurt.
---I tell the tale that I heard told.
Mithridates, he died old.

A.E. Housman