Friday, 11 November 2016

November (with a November song - sung in silence)







 At the present moment (and to the east / west (or North or South) please forgive me this) - at the  present moment, I could care less for the ugliness of candidates set up and taken to an election (an apparent dispute between the NDB and the IMF).
 Not today.

 Either is but mud beneath the firmament where others (whether on this plane or not) shimmer and  shine through the darkness, forever more.

 (amongst the battalion of beauty and heart - against the ugliness)


 If one is an ugly puppet to undo the clock (a bit) - that was once more in 1963, so be it. If the other  prevails once again to set it ahead once more, well so be it.



 Today I will not deal with them. 


 I will not see them.
 I will not cry.
 I will not linger.

_____________________________








There is beauty born this day, there is beauty that goes..
There is an everlasting river that flows.
Behind each beast there may be daisies,
Or poppies,
Or snow,
Behind each feast - in an immaculate dream
Where fields are made ready to glow,
I see a thousand pretty faces and pretty little streams
trickling sweet in everlasting indigo.

As Irving ,  '' I stutter with pride and fear: 
 I hold, Love, divinity 
 In my changed face and hair.
'' 



As a wreath of godliness
That we all share,
As a balloon
In a sphere of grace,
I crumble beside you
In a mortal charade
And stand again
And take my place.





__________________
Oh Leonard, my Leonard (  !¡ )






 Image - G. Almeida 



















You've always been my Irving Layton, Leonard (have been and will always be..).












(this post and poem herein - are by the main author of this blog, and duly ''signed'')


  

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