for Wednesday

[flamingsword]

Enough Sanity
James Kavanaugh


I've had enough sanity.
The trees and I will go crazy again,
Unproductive and lazy again,
Whispering secrets no one dares to share.
Who has advice that does not mask fear?
Who has wisdom that takes time to hear?
Lawyers need lawyers,
Doctors lust to die,
Bankers sweat for money,
No one wonders why.
Masters have masters, only fools are free,
Presently I've had enough of all your sanity.
The trees and I will go crazy again,
Unproductive and lazy again,
Whispering secrets no one dares to share.

Comments

[hello-moonytoes.livejournal.com]

Beautiful.

[flamingsword.livejournal.com]

Thanks. Got a favorite poem you'd like to throw into my comments? Or up on your own page? I'd like to see what you like.

Richard Corey by Edwin Arlington Robinson

[hello-moonytoes.livejournal.com]

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king,
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

The Great Minimum

[lord-of-entropy.livejournal.com]

It is something to have wept as we have wept,
It is something to have done as we have done,
It is something to have watched when all men slept,
And seen the stars which never see the sun.

It is something to have smelt the mystic rose,
Although it break and leave the thorny rods,
It is something to have hungered once as those
Must hunger who have ate the bread of gods.

To have seen you and your unforgotten face,
Brave as a blast of trumpets for the fray,
Pure as white lilies in a watery space,
It were something, though you went from me today.

To have known the things that from the weak are furled,
Perilous ancient passions, strange and high;
It is something to be wiser than the world,
It is something to be older than the sky.

In a time of sceptic moths and cynic rusts,
And fatted lives that of their sweetness tire,
In a world of flying loves and fading lusts,
It is something to be sure of a desire.

Lo, blessed are our ears for they have heard;
Yea, blessed are our eyes for they have seen:
Let thunder break on man and beast and bird
And the lightning. It is something to have been.


--G.K. Chesterton

Re: The Great Minimum

[flamingsword.livejournal.com]

Perfect. I didn't know GK Chesterton wrote poems.

*headtilt* I'll look those up.