Category Archives: Poems

A dream within a dream by Edgar Allen Poe

A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allen Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

The Meaning of Life Discovered? Not a poem, but a theory…

The Meaning of Life, Discovered?

Not a poem, just a passing theory in the wind…

There is no book of answers. There is no guide to life. What you think is right and wrong might be the opposite or maybe not even close. You cannot know. The creator, creators or even circumstances creating the world in which you know it have given no concrete Continue reading The Meaning of Life Discovered? Not a poem, but a theory…

DESIDERATA

DESIDERATA
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

An (Agersh) free-write original, unedited

FREEWRITE:

Proverbial hyperbole has got the best of me I stand as one beside myself – to the left of me; I handle guns; apply myself until the world has gone away; cause every day is exactly the same I got this crown of shit; so say my fucking name I got nothin; the song remains the same its fuckin lame; ima stop now rhymes ain’t my cash cow; I’ll stick to lines so put me on blast now;  I’m redefined consigned sublime and resigned; I’ll make a fast exit, a slow demise; you can watch now it’ll make you fuckin wise this ink stain on the sands of time like my name was ayn rand trying to find land its a race against a dime and it stops me all the time like a flare in this black hole sun I got my shoes on; its time to fuckin run I profligate time and space so tie this fuckin lace I faction observation – its granular so change the fuckin station. Idiosyncratic static; like I was mom and there’s flowers in the attic so save me; I need an organ donor put a tune to my disorder its criminal like law & fuckin order… I’m like an inkjet out of fuckin toner so let this ink set then cast me out to sea into the blood let my conscience settle scores against this dim lit glory let the rebels yell they try to tell the story caustic thoughts of the unsung hung stung stuck fucked on the bottom rung I’m a bottom dweller cellar seller sold cold Hellen Keller answering cheese graters chewing now and hater laters sipping hater aids of lazy motorcade’s infection natural selection reflectin time between innocence and not know how now;  I was him and i spurn through you. floating nine millimeters inside of nowhere ripe with complication it’s time to change the station.

– Agersh

House by the Side of the Road by Sam Walter Foss

House by the Side of the Road by Sam Walter Foss

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze the paths
Where highways never ran-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat
Nor hurl the cynic’s ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road
By the side of the Highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife,
But I turn not away from their smiles and tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish – so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.