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MAGA: A Little Background On American Greatness

A Stale Start


Here we are it seems
Stained with yesterday’s remains
Dazed and misty-eyed

The L Word: Sevenling*


That tiny word, even unspoken
A thousand ships or a dagger
A peace, a war

A life, a death
A future, a history
And always, always, always

An abundance of tears

~~~~~ ~ ~~~~~




An empty cocoon
Abandoned, decays slowly
Its job accomplished



How wonderful this architecture
Down the centuries enduring
Inspiring, heartening, overawing
Expensive though these cathedrals
In more than market value terms
And still begging for more if you please
Cath as in cathedral not cathar – no thank you
Indoctrinating generation after generation

How wonderful this architecture
As Europe some kind of torchbearer
Enduring both they and we
Inspired, heartened, overawed
Its worshippers trailing in the dust
Each down our allotted years
Striding, limping, tottering
Let massacre surround us

How wonderful this architecture
How romanesque the sleight of hand
Preaching persecution and crusade
Tolling for privilege, for tithe, for death for heresy
Cleaving definitive paths, signposts
This Way Heaven; Purgatory; Hell
Servants or sinners, sheep or goats
How few left any monument, mark

Dover Beach

DOVER BEACH – Matthew Arnold (Published 1867)

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

DOVER BEACH – The Fugs (Released 1967)



She had tattoos, she said
I’d have to pay to see
But then I’m miserly
Rather squeamish besides

Paradigm Paradox


Up where we truly live
Time and space are phantoms
What we do; what we say
Already history

String Of Lights (30c)


Poets illumine
Your dark night
Of the soul
Passing the torch down the years
Lightening the load


Shadorma November

The Wound We Wind


Round and round we wind
The wound we wound around us
Tight in our own grasp
History is history
The present we give ourselves

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