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    tai chi
    i am in the white the light and good
    yet i sit in that dark speck alone
    i can not seem to move from it
    perhaps i do not want to

    i walk alone though a dark tunnel
    a head there is light
    it is a train
    the train is stalled on the tracks it will not run me down
    will not crunch my bones and smear my blood or dash my brains
    life's a bitch!


    where lies honor
    i married a virgin girl many years ago
    after many happy years she went back to it
    is honor lost if i go out and seek a piece myself? *I jest of course that was the light now for the dark*

    oh speak i have many times of coming to aid my friends
    belived it i truly did meant every word
    till one day a friend began to lose his mind *truly he did*
    his insanity began to impede upon my own
    and turned my back on him i did
    what have i left what honor but ash


    morning
    wake up every day and wonder why i go on another day
    i done did what i wanted to do
    and now i'm done
    waiting….waiting….everyday waiting
    to young to die to old to be young
    more and more i care less and less
    waiting for the wheel to cursh me under


    house tasks
    washer washer in the tap
    why don't you fit!
    you task me so
    oh inept simple task inept inept
    nail go in straight straight i say
    damn you so!
    why couldn't she just leave it alone
    but no fix it she told me so


    to sleep to dream
    such tiny demons these dark dreams
    jesus spent 40 days in the desert talking to the devil
    oh the things you could learn talking to the devil!


    star
    a collapsing star i am
    diminishing each day
    no brilliant nova will i be
    only the crushing weight each day of a thousand tiny things
    a black hole an abyss

  • #2
    well thanks for reading what vomits out from between my ears like raw sewage from an overflowing grate on a rainy night. heres something good……………

    Li Po (701-762)
    And Li Po also died drunk
    He tried to embrace the moon
    In the Yellow river!
    Epitaph: Translated by Ezra Pound
    *lucky bastard is there a better way to go i mean unless its in the saddle *


    Drinking Alone

    I take my wine jug out among the flowers
    to drink alone, without friends.

    I raise my cup to entice the moon.
    That, and my shadow, makes us three.

    But the moon doesn't drink,
    and my shadow silently follows.

    I will travel with moon and shadow,
    happy to the end of spring.

    When I sing, the moon dances.
    When I dance, my shadow dances, too.

    We share life's joys when sober.
    Drunk, each goes a separate way.

    Constant friends, although we wander,
    we'll meet again in the Milky Way.



    Bringing in the Wine

    See how the Yellow River's water move out of heaven.
    Entering the ocean,never to return.

    See how lovely locks in bright mirrors in high chambers,
    Though silken-black at morning, have changed by night to snow.

    ... Oh, let a man of spirit venture where he pleases
    And never tip his golden cup empty towards the moon!
    Since heaven gave the talent, let it be employed!
    Spin a thousand of pieces of silver, all of them come back!
    Cook a sheep, kill a cow, whet the appetite,
    And make me, of three hundred bowls, one long drink!
    ... To the old master, Tsen,
    And the young scholar, Tan-chiu,
    Bring in the wine!
    Let your cups never rest!
    Let me sing you a song!
    Let your ears attend!
    What are bell and drum, rare dishes and treasure?
    Let me be forever drunk and never come to reason!
    Sober men of olden days and sages are forgotten,
    And only the great drinkers are famous for all time.
    ... Prince Chen paid at a banquet in the Palace of Perfection
    Ten thousand coins for a cask of wine, with many a laugh and quip.
    Why say, my host, that your money is gone?
    Go and buy wine and we'll drink it together!
    My flower-dappled horse,
    My furs worth a thousand,
    Hand them to the boy to exchange for good wine,
    And we'll drown away the woes of ten thousand generation!


    Before The Cask of Wine

    The spring wind comes from the east and quickly passes,
    Leaving faint ripples in the wine of the golden bowl.
    The flowers fall, flake after flake, myriads together.

    You, pretty girl, wine-flushed,
    Your rosy face is rosier still.
    How long may the peach and plum trees flower
    By the green-painted house?
    The fleeting light deceives man,
    Brings soon the stumbling age.

    Rise and dance
    In the westering sun
    While the urge of youthful years is yet unsubdued!
    What avails to lament after one's hair has turned white
    like silken threads?


    Parting at a Wine-shop in Nan-king

    A wind, bringing willow-cotton, sweetens the shop,
    And a girl from Wu, pouring wine, urges me to share it.
    With my comrades of the city who are here to see me off;
    And as each of them drains his cup, I say to him in parting,
    Oh, go and ask this river running to the east
    If it can travel farther than a friend's love!


    Confessional

    There was wine in a cup of gold
    and a girl of fifteen from Wu,
    her eyebrows painted dark
    and with slippers of red brocade.

    If her conversation was poor,
    how beautifully she could sing!
    Together we dined and drank
    until she settled in my arms.

    Behind her curtains
    embroidered with lotuses,

    how could I refuse
    the temptation of her advances?


    A Vindication

    If heaven loved not the wine,
    A Wine Star would not be in heaven;
    If earth loved not the wine,
    The Wine Spring would not be on the earth.
    Since heaven and earth love the wine,
    Need a tippling mortal be ashamed?
    The transparent wine, I hear,
    Has the soothing virtue of a sage,
    While the turgid is rich, they say,
    As the fertile mind of the wise.
    Both the sage and the wise were drinkers,
    Why seek for peers among gods and goblins?
    Three cups open the grand door to bliss;
    Take a jugful, the universe is yours.
    Such is the rapture of the wine,
    That the sober shall never inherit.


    A Mountain Revelry

    To wash and rinse our souls of their age-old sorrows,
    We drained a hundred jugs of wine.
    A splendid night it was . . . .
    In the clear moonlight we were loath to go to bed,
    But at last drunkenness overtook us;
    And we laid ourselves down on the empty mountain,
    The earth for pillow, and the great heaven for coverlet.


    On The Death Of The Good Brewer Of Hsuan-Cheng

    So, old man, you're down where the yellow water flow.
    Well, I imagine you are still brewing the "Old Spring-Time"
    But since there's no Li Po on the Terrace of Night,
    To what sort of people do you sell your wine?


    THE DRUNKARD IN SPRING

    If life is only a dream,
    why then the misery and torment?
    I drink until I can drink no more,
    the whole, dear day!

    And when I can drink no more,
    because my stomach and soul are full,
    I stagger to my door
    and sleep very well!

    What do I hear when I awake? Listen!
    A bird singing in the tree.
    I ask him whether it is spring -
    it's like a dream to me.

    The bird twitters, "Yes! Spring
    is here, it has come over night!"
    With deep concentration I listen,
    and the bird sings and laughs!

    I fill my goblet afresh
    and drain it to the bottom
    and sing, until the moon shines
    in the dark firmament!

    And when I can sing no more,
    I fall asleep again,
    for what does Spring mean to me?
    Let me be drunk!


    The Old Dust

    The living is a passing traveler;
    The dead, a man come home.
    One brief journey betwixt heaven and earth,
    Then, alas! we are the same old dust of ten thousand ages.
    The rabbit in the moon pounds the medicine in vain;
    Fu-sang, the tree of immortality, has crumbled to kindling wood.
    Man dies, his white bones are dumb without a word
    When the green pines feel the coming of the spring.
    Looking back, I sigh; looking before, I sigh again.
    What is there to prize in the life's vaporous glory?


    To His Wife On His Departure--III

    Gold are the staircases, and the like a kingfisher's wings
    Sparkle the towers of the house where I shall be.
    But the thought of you, my dear, who will stand alone
    By the ancient gate and weep,
    Will make me sit awake at night by the lonely lamp,
    And watch the dying moon of dawn;
    And all my tears shall flow as I journey on to the west.

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    • #3
      Thank you. Thank you for sharing those.
      Show me a man who has forgotten words, so that I can have a word with him.

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