President's 4 minute update from the hospital was amazing. He looks strong and able, and ready to get back to work, which he will do from Walter Reed for the next few days.
Best wishes for a quick recovery and a strong finish to the campaign.
Trump believed he was dying. That would explain his uncharacteristic humility and generosity in his latest video. He is very thankful for the doctors who saved his life. Perhaps he will have an Ebenezer Scrooge transformation and start thinking more about people other than himself. Doubtful.
Being a leftist is like being a Met’s fan. Your cross town rival is always better. You usually always lose against them, hardly anyone really likes you, and your main claim to fame happened in the 60’s.
A lot of people are saying that under the circumstances it is irresponsible for Mike Pence to be on the campaign trail. I disagree strongly. 7 people would have to be incapacitated before the presidency fell to Bill Barr.
Honestly, how could you watch Trump's video and completely not understand what it was he was talking about? You literally have to have an IQ of 90 or lower to not get his point.
So..witnessed BLM marching around Wauwatosa streets again today. Smaller than previous..maybe some called in sick due to weather. The funny part was a dog was barking in a seemingly call and response manner.
PALE FIRE (A Poem in Four Cantos) CANTO 1 I was the shadow of the waxwing slain By the false azure in the windowpane I was the smudge of ashen fluff--and I Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky, And from the inside, too, I'd duplicate Myself, my lamp, an apple on a plate: Uncurtaining the night, I'd let dark glass Hang all the furniture above the grass, And how delightful when a fall of snow 10 Covered my glimpse of lawn and reached up so As to make chair and bed exactly stand Upon that snow, out in that crystal land!
My right hand in her left hand – so they say. Those best word we had and yet neither God nor man could join us. But this Is pointless, to see one smile and break and be angry Because you could never tell what it meant. To want the resurrection, now – why disturb The dead? We only joked because we enjoyed The others pain. Or guilt
ii
If I see you again and every night Am I then better? Will I become good? Will I love their souls, even broken? Or laugh in a new birth? I am a bitter, bitter man, A hollow world that falls away, a sun That has left me in darkness, the vision Of even others happiness I must decry. O god, O world, , O woman – if one smile Could disturb these stone why not Again and again and again?
iii
Ten thousand cuts, ten thousand blows, a beating And then to stand all night, to stare at a corner, To joke, maybe, with your friendly betrayers And then watch them march into death, your left With a word, like a photograph, which says “This face is harmless.” I don’t wish to be in this world. You wish to be Unhappy, don’t you? You have no right to that.
iv
Dirty and unshared and in a miserable room Winter has written our desire upon this wall Because I am what you, perhaps, must want, This writer. A liar, true, a thief, also, a pornographer, A self-hater, a wanter of mans destruction, All these things and more. Love which bringeth understanding.
v
The eloquence a persuasion of God – To ‘believe’, I suppose, was what I meant. Or not to believe but to know. Because an Angel Pressed against me. I felt his lips.
vi
No joy talking to oneself, being alone, No joy, again, in sex, no joy in delight Over a face seen again, no morning Waking because you had kissed me, No love in tears or smiles or that said “I love you.” No love for me or you or this morning, Just damnation, the coldest fire that could ever burn.
vii
If the streets were colder, only colder, I could force back a time when hand in hand I caught something of your smile. Extremes, they say, can produce illusion Which I could grasp, never let go Of your presence, however mad.
viii
Chalk on the pavement Water is a sore destroyer Whatever trace people leave The city will illuminate The very same world Even on the last day The pavement will be laid Sorrow or joy do not counter What is permanent This the same rain That rained before
Choose merely now, then, Forget our yesterday, The darling face, the nay Against belief, remember The street must return Shouts that defy or plead And you, before you sleep, Must try to make room For tomorrow By listening to this rain, Today.
Chuck Schumer and the New York Times tell me that Trump and his doctors are lying about his contracting Covid and his present medical condition. He got it sooner than admitted and is more ill than stated, in fact he is not well, not well at all. This info comes from the always impeccable and reliable "anonymous sources" who are very close to the President.
They've totally got him this time, probably going to die by nightfall. Liz Warren says that's what he gets for making fun of mask wearers and for saying the pandemic is a hoax (and giving his full throated support to White Supremicists). Karma, you know.
Sunrise is scheduled for 6:44am today. I'm going out to see, would hate to miss it if it doesn't actually rise.
Chris Wallace might not have given the Biden team the questions before the debate, he did the next best thing, he published the topics he had chosen for the debate.When questions about Covid came up, Biden was reading from notes.
“ An idea? Did the burned down buildings in Kenosha & Minneapolis burn themselves down by spontaneous combustion?”
Apparently the latest is that the riots were caused by a combination of Proud Boys and QAnon (alternatively QAnons). White supremists all. Of course, the avowed Marxists Wearing black clothing, armor, helmets, etc, throwing Molotov Cocktails, etc, had nothing to do with it. Anything to the contrary are just your lying eyes.
Maybe not surprising was that the House passed a resolution condemning QAnon(s) for all sorts of nonsense. Mostly though for embarrassing the Dems and their Deep State by exposing their corruption, and having been the initial source of much of the evidence that showed their level of corruption in SpyGate. What was surprising was that so many Republicans signed onto the resolution. You expect it from Democrats - because Q has hurt them far worse. But the Republican Representatives signing were either craven or ignorant.
stevew said... Chuck Schumer and the New York Times tell me that Trump and his doctors are lying about his contracting Covid and his present medical condition. He got it sooner than admitted and is more ill than stated, in fact he is not well, not well at all. This info comes from the always impeccable and reliable "anonymous sources" who are very close to the President.
Yes. He doesn't really have COVID, but if he does it was there for a long time and he is dying.
Here is a thought experiment. Let's say a deranged lefty nurse puts anthrax in Trump's hospital room and he dies. Given the current guidelines, what would they list as the cause of death?
I've been trying to work out when Day 7 is in the progress of Trump and Covid-19. I think it's next Thursday based on when it was announced he had tested positive. But if Trump got the Rona on the Saturday when he announced ACB, then was yesterday Day 7?
Aa always my prayers are with the President and First Lady.
I looked over at Drudge for the first time in months and the headlines were simply incredible. A list of headlines (a list?), many in red, all intended to produce fear, distrust and panic. I've read that Drudge used to have a billion hits a month and now gets 20 million. If that page was a sample I'm surprised he gets 20 million. And I'm sure his remaining visitors are among the most demented TDSers and Scream at the Sky people because their minds are filled with "news" presented as a chaos so as to prevent thinking.
L: A broken nose more expresses health Than your ridiculous screams and cries. I keep, at least, some human cowardice At home. Making tea in the grubby room but acknowledging this Angel. he will not, For the moment, destroy me . That you wished To deliver yourself to man was what disappointed.
M: There was no sense, speaking in the wrong language, In any action. Neither theirs nor mine. If I felt or smelt destruction don’t think of it As intended. I have told people as, perhaps, A piece of vanity, that I saw things. Nothing was so crude. Only those who wished to love me. They could not. Hate becomes, sometime, stronger than love.
L: And yet, for me, nothing was more ‘subtle’ than mine. To you it was merely looks, a means of accommodating Body to body and the dysfunction I must finally feel When doubt had to sleep with both of us. I ached And I ache everyday for what, well, I never wanted. For I tried for merely a word that would say You know me.
M: I know you but You were not enough. Or never could be. Listen, Lewis, I joy in those few months When we really were discovering what it was that always is so strange about each other: Our mortality, our distant death, our always otherness. Don’t you see – I have gone there, I have lost you, I have lost myself. And your child Is the only human word I can now discover. I hate you. You were not an Angel. I hate myself For saying this. How could I demand this impossible?
L: No, you could not. And yet you, O beautiful you, had a right to. You had a claim on an Angel. But he did not come. Only me. I love you.
M: But you, my fool, my once-was-guest, remember: Love cannot be there merely to please you. We women are accused of eating hearts – it is not us but God that burns your soul, it is not I, it is never I, but these fragments, These joys and sorrows, this ecstasy you refuse To forget. Don’t forget. I may be mad But I do not miss the compliment. For in a glass I joy greatly at what memory can produce. The happiness of a boy who cried “I love you!” Because he had never loved before nor has since.
Yes, she would walk the streets, sometimes to solve A problem, sometimes because she loved the darkness She would always find between the houses. We tried to stop her – we talked to her, Told her that this was being childish or Stupid or romantic – it was foolish To walk in the all innocence of nature And say: “This is true.” Only, lunging forward, We happened on the chance of history And, hey presto, dead bodies. Still, we told her “we love you” but your ‘schizophrenic’, We said “Open your mouth”, without saying “Speak!” – but she wouldn’t – a merely Beautiful idiosyncrasy: Which we crushed, destroyed, crushed as a bug And then said “Crawl back>” She couldn’t. Why Couldn’t she be beautiful again? Only because the mirror will kill us. We have no conscience. No love. No honour.
You wake up ants by poring beer on them? Everything is really, really bad. Everything smells, in fact, stinks You know that, I know that. A heart attach will happen, when you wish.
I suppose, to confess, I always wanted My sky to be blue. With some cloud, To prefer us to change. A chance Beautiful. Somewhere in the rocks Looking towards the shore and knowing there That family had a picnic and those, at a late hour, Were rescued from a summer shower. And because the sun must shine (it must) There was someone, the children that picked seashells And wondered and compared and forever were told “The sea is a dangerous monster.” And were happy, there were some people, old perhaps, Sharing their unflasked, metallic tea, Trying to gather the sun, who said “I love you.” “I, too, my dear.” “Isn’t it beautiful>” “My love, it is beautiful.” “Aren’t we happy?” “Happiness is what we are.”
There's a hole in the world And it's a great black pit, And the vermin of the world inhabit it Ant the name of that place is London. "Sweeney Tod" Sondheim.
.v.
Who dances in the Elysian fields Or laughs in the alley of posterity? No songs past memories rest: all, all a ball Of billowing winds wrapping chaos In the cries of vulgar sentience; Or the mechanics of bombardment And the assorted atom contending For upper air in feverish necessities, Scratched epitaphs of void. Death is a place past illusion Where permanents and eternity Are finally confounded As dust across a plain When a plain has gone.
Of course, I want to die - my meal very rich and going rotten - and you think, will it happen that stink and that stomach approximating each other? Not whilst I'm alive.
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৫০টি মন্তব্য:
President's 4 minute update from the hospital was amazing. He looks strong and able, and ready to get back to work, which he will do from Walter Reed for the next few days.
Best wishes for a quick recovery and a strong finish to the campaign.
I bet all of Trump's video clips from Walter Reed was pre-recorded, and he is actually in Moscow getting his orders from Putin.
The headline in the New York Times: “Why Male Baboons Benefit From Female Friends”
What does the story say?
“We don’t really understand the actual mechanisms that turn friendships into life span,” Dr. Campos said.
"I bet all of Trump's video clips from Walter Reed was pre-recorded, and he is actually in Moscow getting his orders from Putin."
It was actually a Trump animatron. CNN has the scoop.
did Willie Brown really call Kamala
...a "super-spreader" ?
Joe Biden on Antifa: "Antifa’s an idea, not an organization,” Biden said during the debate in Ohio. “That’s what [Trump's] FBI director said.”
An idea? Did the burned down buildings in Kenosha & Minneapolis burn themselves down by spontaneous combustion?
Biden is a liar, a coward and a figurehead for ugly Leftwing elements who hate America. He's also a racial huckster.
Trump believed he was dying. That would explain his uncharacteristic humility and generosity in his latest video. He is very thankful for the doctors who saved his life. Perhaps he will have an Ebenezer Scrooge transformation and start thinking more about people other than himself. Doubtful.
"Harris shows willingness to bring fresh ideas and leadership,
while Pence's mansplaining, racism, and white privilege surfaced
during the VP debate."
OK! Thursday's headline is done-- see y'all Oct. 8 !!
Well then
https://www.lifesitenews.com/news/vatican-cardinal-spent-800000-to-discredit-cardinal-pell-during-sex-abuse-trial-report
Being a leftist is like being a Met’s fan. Your cross town rival is always better. You usually always lose against them, hardly anyone really likes you, and your main claim to fame happened in the 60’s.
h/t @Absolute1776
For fans of ridiculously large guns: shooting a Smith & Wesson .500 Magnum handgun.
"He looks strong." So tell him to drop the make-up from pre-covid and stick with the pasty white complexion.
if "brevity is the soul of wit",
...maybe they werent into being witty?
Graph: Average Sentence Length In English Prose 1500-1950
Latest BIDEN Bumperstickers
A lot of people are saying that under the circumstances it is irresponsible for Mike Pence to be on the campaign trail. I disagree strongly. 7 people would have to be incapacitated before the presidency fell to Bill Barr.
This is your professional journalist at work.
Honestly, how could you watch Trump's video and completely not understand what it was he was talking about? You literally have to have an IQ of 90 or lower to not get his point.
So..witnessed BLM marching around Wauwatosa streets again today. Smaller than previous..maybe some called in sick due to weather.
The funny part was a dog was barking in a seemingly call and response manner.
More of that vaunted civility
https://mobile.twitter.com/CurtisHouck/status/1312611965605425153
PALE FIRE
(A Poem in Four Cantos)
CANTO 1
I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
By the false azure in the windowpane
I was the smudge of ashen fluff--and I
Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky,
And from the inside, too, I'd duplicate
Myself, my lamp, an apple on a plate:
Uncurtaining the night, I'd let dark glass
Hang all the furniture above the grass,
And how delightful when a fall of snow
10 Covered my glimpse of lawn and reached
up so
As to make chair and bed exactly stand
Upon that snow, out in that crystal land!
Nabokov - Pale Fire
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojIZ61GBHwY&fbclid=IwAR3YK1J6B6mz5421k4POBkEfecenJVRxTjKznts3EJrK8e_fZAha6bTZ2hU
Road.
“Down that road I went.” He said, pointing somewhere.
I thought you were near, a companion of mine,
The sun hot, softening a brittle floor,
And I here dawdling, walking as if drunk:
White not exactly white, blue which stretched beyond blue.
Autumn.
Below the cry of a bat
Foots shadow on frozen faces:
Wan luxuries,
Chilled notes of dawn
The Street I.
Corners catching
A broken moon:
That and the tumble
Of drunken feet,
Splash of voices.
Thirst among the lamps pools,
Cry from the slashed mouth,
Flutter of lids and the street
Like the stamped pieces
Of a fractured vision.
A Winter Poem
i
My right hand in her left hand – so they say.
Those best word we had and yet neither
God nor man could join us. But this
Is pointless, to see one smile and break and be angry
Because you could never tell what it meant.
To want the resurrection, now – why disturb
The dead? We only joked because we enjoyed
The others pain. Or guilt
ii
If I see you again and every night
Am I then better? Will I become good?
Will I love their souls, even broken?
Or laugh in a new birth? I am a bitter, bitter man,
A hollow world that falls away, a sun
That has left me in darkness, the vision
Of even others happiness I must decry.
O god, O world, , O woman – if one smile
Could disturb these stone why not
Again and again and again?
iii
Ten thousand cuts, ten thousand blows, a beating
And then to stand all night, to stare at a corner,
To joke, maybe, with your friendly betrayers
And then watch them march into death, your left
With a word, like a photograph, which says “This face is harmless.”
I don’t wish to be in this world. You wish to be
Unhappy, don’t you? You have no right to that.
iv
Dirty and unshared and in a miserable room
Winter has written our desire upon this wall
Because I am what you, perhaps, must want,
This writer. A liar, true, a thief, also, a pornographer,
A self-hater, a wanter of mans destruction,
All these things and more.
Love which bringeth understanding.
v
The eloquence a persuasion of God –
To ‘believe’, I suppose, was what I meant.
Or not to believe but to know. Because an Angel
Pressed against me. I felt his lips.
vi
No joy talking to oneself, being alone,
No joy, again, in sex, no joy in delight
Over a face seen again, no morning
Waking because you had kissed me,
No love in tears or smiles or that said “I love you.”
No love for me or you or this morning,
Just damnation, the coldest fire that could ever burn.
vii
If the streets were colder, only colder,
I could force back a time when hand in hand
I caught something of your smile.
Extremes, they say, can produce illusion
Which I could grasp, never let go
Of your presence, however mad.
viii
Chalk on the pavement
Water is a sore destroyer
Whatever trace people leave
The city will illuminate
The very same world
Even on the last day
The pavement will be laid
Sorrow or joy do not counter
What is permanent
This the same rain
That rained before
Choose merely now, then,
Forget our yesterday,
The darling face, the nay
Against belief, remember
The street must return
Shouts that defy or plead
And you, before you sleep,
Must try to make room
For tomorrow
By listening to this rain,
Today.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TmDkzVvherk
Best wishes [to Donald Trump] for a quick recovery and a strong finish to the campaign.
Amen *
* Is an atheist allowed to use that word?
Chuck Schumer and the New York Times tell me that Trump and his doctors are lying about his contracting Covid and his present medical condition. He got it sooner than admitted and is more ill than stated, in fact he is not well, not well at all. This info comes from the always impeccable and reliable "anonymous sources" who are very close to the President.
They've totally got him this time, probably going to die by nightfall. Liz Warren says that's what he gets for making fun of mask wearers and for saying the pandemic is a hoax (and giving his full throated support to White Supremicists). Karma, you know.
Sunrise is scheduled for 6:44am today. I'm going out to see, would hate to miss it if it doesn't actually rise.
Chris Wallace might not have given the Biden team the questions before the debate, he did the next best thing, he published the topics he had chosen for the debate.When questions about Covid came up, Biden was reading from notes.
Big Mike,
There are no atheists in foxholes!
“ An idea? Did the burned down buildings in Kenosha & Minneapolis burn themselves down by spontaneous combustion?”
Apparently the latest is that the riots were caused by a combination of Proud Boys and QAnon (alternatively QAnons). White supremists all. Of course, the avowed Marxists Wearing black clothing, armor, helmets, etc, throwing Molotov Cocktails, etc, had nothing to do with it. Anything to the contrary are just your lying eyes.
Maybe not surprising was that the House passed a resolution condemning QAnon(s) for all sorts of nonsense. Mostly though for embarrassing the Dems and their Deep State by exposing their corruption, and having been the initial source of much of the evidence that showed their level of corruption in SpyGate. What was surprising was that so many Republicans signed onto the resolution. You expect it from Democrats - because Q has hurt them far worse. But the Republican Representatives signing were either craven or ignorant.
stevew said...
Chuck Schumer and the New York Times tell me that Trump and his doctors are lying about his contracting Covid and his present medical condition. He got it sooner than admitted and is more ill than stated, in fact he is not well, not well at all. This info comes from the always impeccable and reliable "anonymous sources" who are very close to the President.
Yes. He doesn't really have COVID, but if he does it was there for a long time and he is dying.
Here is a thought experiment. Let's say a deranged lefty nurse puts anthrax in Trump's hospital room and he dies. Given the current guidelines, what would they list as the cause of death?
Yup. COVID-19.
I've been trying to work out when Day 7 is in the progress of Trump and Covid-19. I think it's next Thursday based on when it was announced he had tested positive. But if Trump got the Rona on the Saturday when he announced ACB, then was yesterday Day 7?
Aa always my prayers are with the President and First Lady.
Ben Shapiro: 5 reasons no one should live in California
aka What is wrong with the people of California that they keep voting for this?
I looked over at Drudge for the first time in months and the headlines were simply incredible. A list of headlines (a list?), many in red, all intended to produce fear, distrust and panic. I've read that Drudge used to have a billion hits a month and now gets 20 million. If that page was a sample I'm surprised he gets 20 million. And I'm sure his remaining visitors are among the most demented TDSers and Scream at the Sky people because their minds are filled with "news" presented as a chaos so as to prevent thinking.
I'm the Queens dog at Kew,
Pray, whos dog are you?
Queene Anne, of course.
Lewis And Martina
L: A broken nose more expresses health
Than your ridiculous screams and cries.
I keep, at least, some human cowardice
At home. Making tea in the grubby room
but acknowledging this Angel. he will not,
For the moment, destroy me . That you wished
To deliver yourself to man was what disappointed.
M: There was no sense, speaking in the wrong language,
In any action. Neither theirs nor mine.
If I felt or smelt destruction don’t think of it
As intended. I have told people as, perhaps,
A piece of vanity, that I saw things.
Nothing was so crude. Only those who wished to love me.
They could not. Hate becomes, sometime, stronger than love.
L: And yet, for me, nothing was more ‘subtle’ than mine.
To you it was merely looks, a means of accommodating
Body to body and the dysfunction I must finally feel
When doubt had to sleep with both of us. I ached
And I ache everyday for what, well, I never wanted.
For I tried for merely a word that would say
You know me.
M: I know you but
You were not enough. Or never could be.
Listen, Lewis, I joy in those few months
When we really were discovering what it was
that always is so strange about each other:
Our mortality, our distant death, our always otherness.
Don’t you see – I have gone there,
I have lost you,
I have lost myself. And your child
Is the only human word I can now discover.
I hate you. You were not an Angel. I hate myself
For saying this. How could I demand this impossible?
L: No, you could not. And yet you, O beautiful you,
had a right to. You had a claim on an Angel.
But he did not come. Only me. I love you.
M: But you, my fool, my once-was-guest, remember:
Love cannot be there merely to please you.
We women are accused of eating hearts –
it is not us but God that burns your soul,
it is not I, it is never I, but these fragments,
These joys and sorrows, this ecstasy you refuse
To forget. Don’t forget. I may be mad
But I do not miss the compliment.
For in a glass I joy greatly at what memory can produce.
The happiness of a boy who cried “I love you!”
Because he had never loved before nor has since.
L: I had never loved before nor have since.
Beauty
Yes, she would walk the streets, sometimes to solve
A problem, sometimes because she loved the darkness
She would always find between the houses.
We tried to stop her – we talked to her,
Told her that this was being childish or
Stupid or romantic – it was foolish
To walk in the all innocence of nature
And say: “This is true.” Only, lunging forward,
We happened on the chance of history
And, hey presto, dead bodies. Still, we told her
“we love you” but your ‘schizophrenic’,
We said “Open your mouth”, without saying
“Speak!” – but she wouldn’t – a merely
Beautiful idiosyncrasy:
Which we crushed, destroyed, crushed as a bug
And then said “Crawl back>”
She couldn’t. Why
Couldn’t she be beautiful again?
Only because the mirror will kill us.
We have no conscience. No love. No honour.
Morecambe
Precise terms, correctly said
Might point a moral to be had:
The eviscerate beast will be fed
With the inane, the hapless or the sad,
The little joke become universal
Till cosmic gizzards grin,
A gods fading, pathetic appal
Irking some tummy ache of sin,
But we, who ‘know’ exactly when
The anti-Christ and Christ shall meet,
Bitterly say ‘I love’, again,
Hanker for the canker of defeat,
Leathery, inept, miss hued,
Burnt, blathered but staring at the sun
Our being brave merely crude,
Our families broken before they’ve begun:
A wino whine like Ovid-On-The-Sea,
We must be exiles, perpetually.
You wake up ants by poring beer on them?
Everything is really, really bad.
Everything smells, in fact, stinks
You know that, I know that.
A heart attach will happen, when you wish.
Chance Of Blue II
I suppose, to confess, I always wanted
My sky to be blue. With some cloud,
To prefer us to change. A chance
Beautiful. Somewhere in the rocks
Looking towards the shore and knowing there
That family had a picnic and those, at a late hour,
Were rescued from a summer shower.
And because the sun must shine (it must)
There was someone, the children that picked seashells
And wondered and compared and forever were told
“The sea is a dangerous monster.”
And were happy, there were some people, old perhaps,
Sharing their unflasked, metallic tea,
Trying to gather the sun, who said
“I love you.” “I, too, my dear.”
“Isn’t it beautiful>” “My love, it is beautiful.”
“Aren’t we happy?” “Happiness is what we are.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tODaH_fGtMY
Oh God lover her, bless her, Know that she was loved!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRJIUBTTw3k&pbjreload=101
A young Joni!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uOC_HJoMIJg
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRzhaAtkgQ8
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUmZp8pR1uc
There's a hole in the world
And it's a great black pit,
And the vermin of the world inhabit it
Ant the name of that place is London.
"Sweeney Tod" Sondheim.
.v.
Who dances in the Elysian fields
Or laughs in the alley of posterity?
No songs past memories rest: all, all a ball
Of billowing winds wrapping chaos
In the cries of vulgar sentience;
Or the mechanics of bombardment
And the assorted atom contending
For upper air in feverish necessities,
Scratched epitaphs of void.
Death is a place past illusion
Where permanents and eternity
Are finally confounded
As dust across a plain
When a plain has gone.
Of course, I want to die - my meal very rich and going rotten - and you think, will it happen that stink and that stomach approximating each other? Not whilst I'm alive.
একটি মন্তব্য পোস্ট করুন