Ode To A Large Tuna In The Market

Among the market greens, a bullet from the ocean depths, a swimming projectile, I saw you, dead. All around you

A Valentine's Song

MOTLEY I count the only wear That suits, in this mixed world, the truly wise, Who boldly smile upon despair And shake their bells in Grandam Grundy's eyes. Singers should sing with such a goodly cheer That the bare listening should make strong like wine, At this unruly time of year, The Feast of Valentine. We do not now parade our "oughts"

Death & Fame

When I die I don't care what happens to my body throw ashes in the air, scatter 'em in East River bury an urn in Elizabeth New Jersey, B'nai Israel Cemetery But l want a big funeral St. Patrick's Cathedral, St. Mark's Church, the largest synagogue in Manhattan First, there's family, brother, nephews, spry aged Edith stepmother 96, Aunt Honey from old Newark, Doctor Joel, cousin Mindy, brother Gene one eyed one ear'd, sister-

Deceased

Harlem Sent him home in a long box- Too dead To know why: The licker Was lye.

The Young British Soldier

When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East 'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast, An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier. Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, So-oldier ~OF~ the Queen! Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,

On His Deceased Wife

METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused Saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, Whom Joves great Son to her glad Husband gave, Rescu'd from death by force though pale and faint. Mine as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint, Purification in the old Law did save, And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind:

Albinos On The Razor-Edge Of Danger

At the behest of witchdoctors headhunters are on the prowl. They're watching, waiting, stalking, and avoiding detection; in the hope of an ambush with a brutal ferocity. Their gruesome machetes as sharp as a guillotine blade poised for execution, certain to dismember the of body any victims into bleeding chunks in a matter of seconds. Faced with this dreadful menace albinos are confined to their homes swallowed up by boredom,

The Song Of Los

AFRICA I will sing you a song of Los. the Eternal Prophet: He sung it to four harps at the tables of Eternity. In heart-formed Africa. Urizen faded! Ariston shudderd! And thus the Song began Adam stood in the garden of Eden: And Noah on the mountains of Ararat;

! ! Life

This life, this energy, this consciousness, we sense in everything we touch, we feel, we smell, we hear, we see, we even taste?

Y..... Happiness

I guess it was my aunty's fault That before I was six years old It were my looks that made me happy She just never stopped praising me Later when I went to school I realised I was a bit of a fool To be so proud about my looks My happiness shifted towards my books

Natural Theology

Primitive I ate my fill of a whale that died And stranded after a month at sea. . . . There is a pain in my inside. Why have the Gods afflicted me? Ow! I am purged till I am a wraith! Wow! I am sick till I cannot see! What is the sense of Religion and Faith: Look how the Gods have afflicted me!

Delirium

The black snow runs down from the rooftops; A red finger dips into your brow; Blue snow flakes sink into the empty room, They are a lovers’ dying mirrors. Heavy and torn to pieces the mind muses, Follows the shadow in the mirror of blue snow flakes, The cold smile of a deceased harlot. The evening’s wind weeps in the scent of carnations.

The Last Winter Storm

The Last Winter Storm Every year, at the scheduled arrival of March, Mother Nature became seasonally enraged, Like a lion, an unjustly imprisoned beast in a cage, Like a cancer patient walking on stage For the last time - the last baby is now aged; Two seasons are about to crush and crash. Every thing started with the hauling winds

Hymn To Proserpine (After The Proclamation Of The Christian

Vicisti, Galilæe I have lived long enough, having seen one thing, that love hath an end; Goddess and maiden and queen, be near me now and befriend. Thou art more than the day or the morrow, the seasons that laugh or that weep; For these give joy and sorrow; but thou, Proserpina, sleep. Sweet is the treading of wine, and sweet the feet of the dove; But a goodlier gift is thine than foam of the grapes or love. Yea, is not even Apollo, with hair and harpstring of gold,

The Eight Wonder

I lay here on this grassy hill Looking up at the sky There's a cloud shaped as a daffodil And a spotted hound up high. My problems are released Into the turtle shaped clouds My sorrows have been deceased By this beauty I have found.

Childhood

I. That idol, black eyes and yellow mop, without parents or court, nobler than Mexican and Flemish fables; his domain, insolent azure and verdure, runs over beaches called by the shipless waves, names ferociously Greek, Slav, Celt. At the border of the forest-- dream flowers tinkle, flash, and flare,-- the girl with orange lips, knees crossed in the clear flood that gushes from the fields,

Sonnet 14

XIV When Faith and Love which parted from thee never, Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthy load Of Death, call'd Life; which us from Life doth sever Thy Works and Alms and all thy good Endeavour Staid not behind, nor in the grave were trod; But as Faith pointed with her golden rod, Follow'd thee up to joy and bliss for ever.

The Big Boots Of Pain

There can be certain potions needled in the clock for the body’s fall from grace, to untorture and to plead for. These I have known and would sell all my furniture and books and assorted goods to avoid, and more, more. But the other pain

Ben Apfelgarten

There was a certain gentleman, Ben Apfelgarten called, Who lived way off in Germany a many years ago, And he was very fortunate in being very bald And so was very happy he was so. He warbled all the day Such songs as only they Who are very, very circumspect and very happy may; The people wondered why, As the years went gliding by, They never heard him once complain or even heave a sigh!

the Day My Baby Brother Died

I remember that dreadful morning, Waking to the beast, Time had stopped, the news reckless A beautiful boy amazing but deceased I heard my heart shatter and my soul screamed a cry The couler the detail I remember like yesterday But I just wished I’d I said a final goodbye, Ruthless pain i hide so deep inside, I wish I could take you just once