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Maybe Someday (Free verse) by Luzr

I got myself a pocketful of wishes today And from them I could write a thousand different ballads Of smiling eyes and plastic reactions, perfect and precise Telling of a lifetime ago, and a lingering fondness I am caught, struggling against seeking for myself the comfort of lips wrapped tightly around either a bottle or a barrel I felt the tell-tale signs of a heart beat As I stared you in the face And the fires burned The bandages I wore caught in the flames Thank god that barbwire is good for closing wounds I watched to sing tonight And I saw your sweet blasphemy I wondered how much of tonight Was calculated, and how much was careless I saw you replace me, making me once again your inferior And these asides I think mean something They don't, do they How is it that tonight I am feeling like The betrayer, When I am the betrayed That one second that I've been asking for I got it today plus a few more Where you merely made me miss you By your soft sweet whispers of secrets Shared and once recalled, hard forgotten I swore an oath to you one of those chilly autumn nights An endeavor I have never failed upon My question sweet shadow is merely Am I wasting tonight thinking that Maybe, you'll be curious someday If the taste of my lips has changed

Fraser Allonby Q.C. 30-Mar-05/2:04 AM
Methinks I am a prophet new inspired
And thus expiring do foretell of him:
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last,
For violent fires soon burn out themselves;
Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short;
He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder:
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth,
Renowned for their deeds as far from home,
For Christian service and true chivalry,
As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry,
Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son,
This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it,
Like to a tenement or pelting farm:
England, bound in with the triumphant sea
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death!




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