truth is

If ignorance equates bliss

we’d all fade in the abyss

But ruth is insomnia

and ruth is insomniacs

can’t die in their sleep


Artwork by start-static at

Illusory Life

ethereal breath

Insane delight of a moment

Fades even as one owns it

Ethereal Breath breathes the omen


A voice says, “Shout!”
    I said, “What shall I shout?”

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Knowledge Comes

This leaves me in awe of Lord Tennyson’s poetic talent- and near tears for the sadness of his life.  A short biography helped put this poem in perspective…as if he wrung his heart and out-poured Locksley Hall. 
Locksley Hall


Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet ‘t is early morn:

Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle-horn.


T is the place, and all around it, as of old, the curlews call,

Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over Locksley Hall;

Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the sandy tracts,

And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into cataracts.


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She went around pre-registered
for her own eventual absence.

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