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This page holds a collection of poems that appear in full or in part in Lessons in Love.

Thanks go out to community members Bruised Reality, Silon, Kusanagi, Doc, Waterfire23, Esan, and Daedalus for finding these poems and making them accessible to us.

If a poem is only featured in part, the bolded section denotes what appears in the game.

Charles Baudelaire

La Fontaine de Sang (The Fountain of Blood)

First Appearance: Bad News Bears

Il me semble parfois que mon sang coule à flots,
Ainsi qu'une fontaine aux rythmiques sanglots.
Je l'entends bien qui coule avec un long murmure,
Mais je me tâte en vain pour trouver la blessure.

À travers la cité, comme dans un champ clos,
Il s'en va, transformant les pavés en îlots,
Désaltérant la soif de chaque créature,
Et partout colorant en rouge la nature.

J'ai demandé souvent à des vins captieux
D'endormir pour un jour la terreur qui me mine;
Le vin rend l'oeil plus clair et l'oreille plus fine!

J'ai cherché dans l'amour un sommeil oublieux;
Mais l'amour n'est pour moi qu'un matelas d'aiguilles
Fait pour donner à boire à ces cruelles filles!

Edgar Allan Poe

The Happiest Day, The Happiest Hour

First Appearance: The Place She Falls Asleep At Night

The happiest day—the happiest hour
My seared and blighted heart hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.

Of power! said I? Yes! such I ween
But they have vanished long, alas!
The visions of my youth have been—
But let them pass.

And pride, what have I now with thee?
Another brow may ev’n inherit
The venom thou hast poured on me—
Be still my spirit!

The happiest day—the happiest hour
Mine eyes shall see—have ever seen
The brightest glance of pride and power
I feel have been:

But were that hope of pride and power
Now offered with the pain
Ev’n then I felt—that brightest hour
I would not live again:

For on its wing was dark alloy
And as it fluttered—fell
An essence—powerful to destroy
A soul that knew it well.

To the River

First Appearance: To the River

Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow
    Of crystal, wandering water,
  Thou art an emblem of the glow
      Of beauty—the unhidden heart—
      The playful maziness of art
  In old Alberto’s daughter;

  But when within thy wave she looks—
      Which glistens then, and trembles—
  Why, then, the prettiest of brooks
      Her worshipper resembles;
  For in my heart, as in thy stream,
    Her image deeply lies—
  His heart which trembles at the beam
    Of her soul-searching eyes.

Emily Dickinson

A solemn thing — it was — I said

First Appearance: Eternity Until

A solemn thing — it was — I said —
A woman — white — to be —
And wear — if God should count me fit —
Her blameless mystery —

A hallowed thing — to drop a life
Into the purple well —
Too plummetless — that it return —
Eternity — until —

I pondered how the bliss would look —
And would it feel as big —
When I could take it in my hand —
As hovering — seen — through fog —

And then — the size of this “small” life —
The Sages — call it small —
Swelled — like Horizons — in my vest —
And I sneered — softly — “small”!

Softened by Time's consummate plush

First Appearance: Still Young

Softened by Time’s consummate plush,
How sleek the woe appears
That threatened childhood’s citadel
And undermined the years.

Bisected now, by bleaker griefs,
We envy the despair
That devastated childhood’s realm,
So easy to repair.

John Keats

Ode to a Nightingale

First Appearance: Ode to a Marsh Warbler

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
    My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
    One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
    But being too happy in thine happiness,—
        That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
            In some melodious plot
    Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
        Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
    Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
    Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
    Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
        With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
            And purple-stained mouth;
    That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
        And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
    What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
    Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
    Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
        Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
            And leaden-eyed despairs,
    Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
        Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
    Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
    Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
    And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
        Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;
            But here there is no light,
    Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
        Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
    Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
    Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
    White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
        Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves;
            And mid-May's eldest child,
    The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
        The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
    I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
    To take into the air my quiet breath;
        Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
    To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
        While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
            In such an ecstasy!
    Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
         To thy high requiem become a sod.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
    No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
    In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
    Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
        She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
            The same that oft-times hath
    Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
        Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
    To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
    As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
    Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
        Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
            In the next valley-glades:
    Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
        Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?

John Masefield

Exerpts from The Everlasting Mercy

First Appearance: As The Sun Disappears

I lived in disbelief of Heaven.
I drunk, I fought, I poached, I whored,
I did despite unto the Lord.
I cursed, 'would make a man look pale,
And nineteen times I went to jail

---

Glimmered quick with flitting faces,
Singing anthems, singing hymns
Under carven cherubims.
Ringer Dave aloft could mark
Faces at the window dark
Crowding, crowding, row on row,
Till all the church began to glow.
The chapel glowed, the nave, the choir,
All he faces became fire
Below the eastern window high
To see Christ's star come up the sky.
Then they lifted hands and turned,
And all their lifted fingers burned,
Burned like the golden altar tallows,
Burned like a troop of God's own Hallows,
Bringing to mind the burning time
When all the bells will rock and chime
And burning saints on burning horses
Will sweep the planets from their courses
And loose the stars to burn up night.
Lord, give us eyes to bear the light.

---

O young men, pray to be kept whole
from bringing down a weaker soul.
Your minute's joy so meet in doin'
May be the woman's door to ruin;
The door to wandering up and down,
A painted whore with half a crown.
The bright mind fouled, the beauty gay
All eaten out and fallen away

---

O Christ who holds the open gate,
O Christ who drives the furrow straight,
O Christ, the plough, O Christ, the laughter
Of holy white birds flying after,
Lo, all my heart's field red and torn,
And Thou wilt bring the young green corn,
The young green corn divinely springing,
The young green corn forever singing;
And when the field is fresh and fair
Thy blessиd feet shall glitter there,
And we will walk the weeded field,
And tell the holden harvests's yield,
The corn that makes the holy bread
By which the soul of man is fed,
The holy bread, the food unpriced,
Thy everlasting mercy, Christ

Li-Young Lee

From Blossoms

First Appearance: Impossible Blossoms

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

Persimmons

First Appearance: Cutting Through Cocoons

In sixth grade Mrs. Walker
slapped the back of my head
and made me stand in the corner
for not knowing the difference
between persimmon and precision.
How to choose

persimmons. This is precision.
Ripe ones are soft and brown-spotted.
Sniff the bottoms. The sweet one
will be fragrant. How to eat:
put the knife away, lay down newspaper.
Peel the skin tenderly, not to tear the meat.
Chew the skin, suck it,
and swallow. Now, eat
the meat of the fruit,
so sweet,
all of it, to the heart.

Donna undresses, her stomach is white.
In the yard, dewy and shivering
with crickets, we lie naked,
face-up, face-down.
I teach her Chinese.
Crickets: chiu chiu. Dew: I’ve forgotten.
Naked: I’ve forgotten.
Ni, wo: you and me.
I part her legs,
remember to tell her
she is beautiful as the moon.

Other words
that got me into trouble were
fight and fright, wren and yarn.
Fight was what I did when I was frightened,
Fright was what I felt when I was fighting.
Wrens are small, plain birds,
yarn is what one knits with.
Wrens are soft as yarn.
My mother made birds out of yarn.
I loved to watch her tie the stuff;
a bird, a rabbit, a wee man.

Mrs. Walker brought a persimmon to class
and cut it up
so everyone could taste
a Chinese apple. Knowing
it wasn’t ripe or sweet, I didn’t eat
but watched the other faces.

My mother said every persimmon has a sun
inside, something golden, glowing,
warm as my face.

Once, in the cellar, I found two wrapped in newspaper,
forgotten and not yet ripe.
I took them and set both on my bedroom windowsill,
where each morning a cardinal
sang, The sun, the sun.

Finally understanding
he was going blind,
my father sat up all one night
waiting for a song, a ghost.
I gave him the persimmons,
swelled, heavy as sadness,
and sweet as love.

This year, in the muddy lighting
of my parents’ cellar, I rummage, looking
for something I lost.
My father sits on the tired, wooden stairs,
black cane between his knees,
hand over hand, gripping the handle.
He’s so happy that I’ve come home.
I ask how his eyes are, a stupid question.
All gone, he answers.

Under some blankets, I find a box.
Inside the box I find three scrolls.
I sit beside him and untie
three paintings by my father:
Hibiscus leaf and a white flower.
Two cats preening.
Two persimmons, so full they want to drop from the cloth.

He raises both hands to touch the cloth,
asks, Which is this?

This is persimmons, Father.

Oh, the feel of the wolftail on the silk,
the strength, the tense
precision in the wrist.
I painted them hundreds of times
eyes closed. These I painted blind.
Some things never leave a person:
scent of the hair of one you love,
the texture of persimmons,
in your palm, the ripe weight.

My Indigo

First Appearance: My Indigo (The Blue Death)

It's late. I've come
to find the flower which blossoms
like a saint dying upside down

The rose won't do, nor the iris.
I've come to find the moody one, the shy one,
downcast, grave, and isolated.

Now, blackness gathers in the grass,
and I am on my hands and knees.
What is its name?

Little sister, my indigo,
my secret, vaginal and sweet, you unfurl yourself shamelessly
toward the ground.

You burn. You live
a while in two worlds at once.

Mark Van Doren

Possession

First Appearance: It Comes To Claim Us All

Because this ground is mine it presses firmer
And softer up against my morning feet.
The grass ever is whispering as I walk.
The trees lean a little, and the spring,
There at the head of the road, leaps out to meet me.

Some afternoons I think these hundred acres,
Knowing I lie on the mountainside in the sun,
Curl over as if to fold me in; then, rising,
I smile and go, and they are level again.

But all of this is nothing to the night
I climbed that path and came into my own.
The darkness—my own darkness—was a warm
Still wind upon my face, until I reached
The topmost meadow, open to the sky.

One step, and I stood naked among stars—
White stars, that clustered closer and larger down;
Closer, until they entered my two eyes. . . .
When, deep inside, they burst without a sound.

Mary Frye

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

First Appearance: Nice Weather We're Having

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain.
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am the morning hush.
I am the graceful rush
of beautiful birds in circling flight.
I am the star shine of the night.
I am the flowers that bloom.
I am in a quiet room.
I am the birds that sing.
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

Selebus

The following titles are conjectural ones assigned by the community, not the official names given by Selebus.

A lie, alive, alone I

First Appearance: Halfway Down the Wishing Well

A lie, alive, alone. This is someone else’s poem.
I stitched the words together from the comfort of a melting home.
In death her mem’ry fades. In the sun it shines anew.
But the beating heart within her chest spills blood atop his holy pew.
Can you hear it? Can you smell? Are you halfway down the wishing well?
Is it dark and damp and wrong and bad? Remind you of a former Hell?
I fuck the pussy hard. I fuck it with my willy.
I fuck it fuck it fuck I’m fucking pussy fuck fuck going silly.
Zooble dooble dop dop pop ploor beep borp booble doop.
Boloobleooble oopy dop bogooble zoopy boop.
Just wanna make my wiener strong so Mommy will be proud.
If I fuck another mommy Mommy frowns and says I’m not allowed.
I’m confused though cause this isn’t love. I’m stuck under a spell.
It’s not my heart that does it. It’s my wiener and it does it well.
Gotta make the pussy cum. Gotta make her cry.
Then later I’ll go home and think about how much I want to die.

A lie, alive, alone II

First Appearance: Halfway Down the Wishing Well

A lie, alive, alone. This is someone else’s home.
I stitched these words together so they’d form another happy poem.
I wish you were there with me — in the darkness where we slept.
“But instead you had to leave us,” quoth the creaking of the seventh step.

As sweet as nectar

First Appearance: Clam's Tongue

as sweet as nectar,
as cold as snow;
one kind and caring,
one lost and low.

reach out and take it,
feel it and know;
if you can’t feel your hands
you can’t ever let go

Carry on my name

First Appearance: I Will Deliver You to the Fireflies

Carry on my name; as if it is your own.
If I can live inside of you, we'll never be alone.
So when I'm gone, remove your heart.
I'll give you mine instead.
And when that's done, remove your brain-
Let me into your head.
The world won't understand us- that's why we lock the doors.
That's why we board the windows — lay our blankets on the floor.
The softest of materials, half a step from what's ethereal,
My love for you's bacterial! I've never wanted more!
Than to be the one you see at night.
You're my Edgar.
Love, Lenore.

Circles

First Appearance: Eighth Eye of the Wolf Spider

Circle one
The passing glance
The color of her eyes

Circle two
The daylight's glow
The paleness of her thighs

Circle three
The reckoning
The absence of her voice

Circle four
The killing sleep
You've already made your choice

Circle five
The unseen eye
A friend a lovers touch

Circle six
The rabbits kick
I love you so damn much

Circle seven
Passenger
The attic light still shines

Circle eight
You miss her
But you can't explain quite why

Flowers, flowers, all around us

First Appearance: Again, I Can't Recall

Flowers, flowers, all around us; to grow and then decay-
To parallel our livelihoods and mirror passing days.
When you speak into that mirror, what is it you will say?
Are you excited for the future? Or do you wish it all away?
To heart, my friends and family! For these mirrors are just jokes!
The flowers reek of simile! The metaphors of oak!
Reverse! Return! Repeat your words! If you keep them in, you'll choke.
Press the flowers to your nose; breathe them in like smoke.

Good Boy

First Appearance: Good Boy

Today, I am going to be a good boy.
I buckle my belt and tie both my shoes, cause that's what all the good boys do.
I put on my backpack and fasten my gloves, cause that is what a good boy does.
I shoveled the driveway and vacuumed the floor. I folded my laundry, I did all my chores.
I washed the whole house, I cleaned all our rooms. I took out the garbage, pulled hair off the brooms.
I fed both the dogs so they wouldn't bark. Can I go outside now? I'll be home before dark.
I'll look both ways when I'm crossing the street. I'll eat all my veggies and say not to sweets.
I'll take off my pants, stay quiet for you. I won't tell a soul. I promise it's true.
I'm such a good boy, so why can't I play? Why can't I have friends? I'll do what you say.
I'm such a good boy. Obedient too. So easy to touch, so easy to use.
So easy to break, yet you always play rough. I'm such a good boy. Can't that be enough?
I buckle my belt and tie both my shoes, cause that's what all the good boys do.
I put on my backpack and keep my mouth shut. Then saunter to school with a pain in my gut.
Today, I am going to be a good boy.

Mothers Milk I

First Appearance: Mother's Milk

there's nothing quite like mother's milk
i drink it every day
from the moment the sun wakes me up
until when it goes away
when the moon is bright, i drink again
and then she drinks me too
i'm happy to drink mother's milk
i'm happy here with you

Mothers Milk II

First Appearance: Mother's Milk

there's nothing quite like happiness
there's nothing here at all
from the moment the sun wakes me up
until the moment that it falls
when the moon is bright, i cry
i listen to her moan
all i want is mother's milk
i don't want to be alone

Mothers Milk III

First Appearance: Mother's Milk

i heard that soon a baby comes
i wonder if she'll like me
i wonder if she'll like me
i wonder if she'll like me
poems should rhyme and so should i
what am i doing here
i just want to dsvkcjhgfsdfsf
i wonder if she'll like me

Mothers Milk IV

First Appearance: Mother's Milk

there is no you in you and me
but there is me in you
and what that means is you and he
dont fit, and yet i do
what i can see is you and me
should mean the same, its true
but if youre you and i cant see
what i am, then im who?

Mothers Milk V

First Appearance: Mother's Milk

sometimes it's like my mind is broken
at others, like i'm free
my ears are home to hummingbirds
my face, a lonely key
a key to what, i do not know
i prob'ly never will
what i know is i love mother's milk
i won't ever let it spill

Mudwater

First Appearance: A Thousand Years

I said to thee, oh demons wait
And spread my tired wings
And throwing stones you'll surely make
A mess of brighter things.

Give us this day our daily bread
And drink his holy blood
For when tomorrow comes you'll see
The dirt will turn to mud.

My Life With You

First Appearance: My Life With You

A room full of sunshine, blacked out by a sheet.
It was there you and I were destined to meet.
Not for the first time, you’ve been there from the start.
But that room full of sunshine filled a hole in my heart.
We both couldn’t see it, but we know it was there.
So with holes in our clothing and knots in our hair-
We’d get out of bed for just minutes each day.
We didn’t speak much, there was nothing to say.
But one day that changed and the dark disappeared.
We took down that sheet and we faced what we feared.
You became my world, since the old one was gone.

Neon Heart

First Appearance: Neon Heart (If I Close My Eyes)

mistakes, mistakes
o, neon heart,
the way you make me glow.
i can not fathom
life apart
from what you’ve helped me grow

Poetry Contest: Ami

First Appearance: Pseudonym

Summer. Winter. Paradox. No autumn, nor a spring;
At night, I watch the sakura peel themselves off thick, red strings.
Why can I see what isn’t there? Why can’t I feel the sting?
Of the town that took the world away and the evil song it sings.

Poetry Contest: Futaba

First Appearance: Pseudonym

The town that I grew up in;
Where I still grow today.
Where skies are blue and grass is green and everything’s okay.
The town where all my friends live;
And where I fell in love.
It may not be exciting, but it’s the only town I love.

Poetry Contest: Noriko

First Appearance: Pseudonym

Noriko's poem:
No blindeyes bloom on paths I walk, but I found a shepherd’s purse;
With pockets full of buttercups, I returned it to the earth.
Now in its place, a pasture- cross the homes of hyacinth.
Near a suckling clover fountain and its bitter orange drip.

poempoem

First Appearance: To Catch Me If I Fall

Write a poem about a poem
when you don't know what to write.
When the thoughts get caught inside your head-
when they keep you up at night.

It's okay if it means nothing.
In fact, it won't most of the time.
Just put something on paper.
It doesn't even have to rhyme.
(But it's better if it does.)

Redbirds bleed and blue ones die

First Appearance: Young Cardinals

Redbirds bleed and blue ones die — that's the nature of this world of mine.
The green ones sing, the yellows cry — yet still the redbirds bleed. But why?
I close my book. Breathe out a sigh. Then pierce the glass with both my eyes.
Approach the window, scan the sky — beneath the clouds, above the pines.
The blue ones fall as the red ones rise. Don't ask me how, I won't reply.
I can't tell you why the cardinals fly. I can't tell you why the blues won't try.
I can't tell you anything as I-
I hate this fucking world of mine.
I hate the birds. I hate the sky. I hate paper, pencils, crooked lines.
These are reasons why I sometimes try imagining that I am blind.
I know there's beauty here.
There has to be.
It's just way too hard to find.

Redbirds bleed and blue ones die — that's the nature of this world of mine.
There's no song to sing nor hymn to cry — just an aching heart and wat'ry eyes.
I hate love and lust and God and lies. I hate hummingbirds. The word "Goodbye."
But if you'd ask me now, beneath this sky-
I could tell you why the cardinals fly.

Regardless of the nightingale

First Appearance: Girls Just Want to Have Fun

Regardless of the nightingale,
and the songs it wants to sing -
I'm content with just my picture book.
I'm content with simple things.

The sky, the moon, the rocks, the sand.
The clouds above my head.
The scent of chamomile and mint
The creaking of my bed.

It used to hurt, but now it won't -
At least that's what I've been told.
I'm content with being loved like this.
I'm mature for __ years old.

Roses are red, my eyes are blue

First Appearance: Hyzenthlay

Roses are red, my eyes are blue.
The grass is all greenish, and you're the real you!
The real you is awesome! Just a little confused.
But how could you not be when I’m confused too?

Spiderbug

First Appearance: Wither

one for me and one for you,
the wonders of what god can do
a different one for each of us
we play the same, but struggle thus.

spiders! bugs! and arthropods!
which ones squirm and which one's god,
many? some? none? a few?
i can't help but fall in love with you.

The dawning of a new day dies I

First Appearance: Hyzenthlay

The dawning of a new day dies, but an ending has begun.
And with the blue sky gone we'll see another setting sun.
It's orange and...all red or something. It's glowing and it's...fun?
Words go here, then more words here. My stupid poem is done.

The dawning of a new day dies II

First Appearance: Eyes Closed, Chin Up

The dawning of a new day dies, but an ending has begun.
The one who spoke these words before was eaten by the sun.
That's the millionth hint I've given you — this next line is the last one.
There's a field not far from here I love in the web that God has spun.

There will be no river, nor tears at all

First Appearance: Voice of Vibration

There will be no river, nor tears at all-
For it hurts the most before the fall.
Then afterwards, with broken bones-
And flesh untucked from dermal homes-
The sky is where we find salvation.
Our final sight and last sensation.
As eyes roll back, and respiration-
Contorts our lungs in expiration-
We’ll rely on half-unpacked narration
And take shelter in these new vibrations.

what was it 'bout the soft sand

First Appearance: Episcopalis: Pickled Plums & Polyrhythmic Psalms

what was it 'bout the soft sand, and its interrupted sleep
that woke you from your dying dreams and brought you here to me?

do you wish to speak in solemn tones? have you torn your wilted tongues?
are you vulnerable, my child? are you simply seeking fun?

i will absolve you of toxicity and sin, the spiral stops.
just place on hand upon my chest, the other on the clock.
if you think the world's left you behind, i implore you think again.
for it isn't until time is gone that you, my child;

begin.

Wrap yourself in plastic

First Appearance: Pluto Was Never Really a Planet

wrap yourself in plastic
wrap yourself in me
swallowing a padlock
then swallowing the key
press the needle to your lips
sewn tight so you can’t shout
forgetting it was you who did this
when you opened up your mouth

seal yourself in silicone
seal yourself in sorrow
because what’s the point of living
when the world you love is hollow
press your face against the glass
feel the chill of doubt
your reflection feels what you feel
that’s why it won’t come out

dear god.
what must I do to make you love
me?

I'll be Besides You Always

First Appearance: Fairytale (The End Until Tomorrow)

When the night comes to an end, just know -

I'll be beside you always.

Through rain and fog, in heat and snow -

At the end of every hallway.

O'er these dark, unventured hills we climb -

With canisters of light.

The dawning of a new days dies.

And it's here we say goodnight.

There Will be no River

First Appearance: Voice of Vibration

There will be no river, nor tears at all -

For it hurts the most *before* the fall.

Then afterwards, with broken bones -

And flesh untucked from dermal homes-

The sky is where we find salvation.

Out final sight and last sensation.

As eyes roll back, and respiration -

Contorts ourn lungs in exporation -

We'll rely on half-unpacked narration

And take shelter in these new vibrations.

This one was me. [Sensei]

But I wish that it wasn't.

So I'll forget it immediately.

Some Doors Never Open

First Appearance: Essence of Eiderdown

[Top Left]

opaque o pal o passenger

my arrow's in your heart

the second you remove it

is the moment we restart

[Middle Right]

forbidden glass and plastic wrap

that cleaning fluid smell

that seeps into your sinuses

is it heaven? is it hell?

[Bottom Left]

seven six five four three two

one two three four five six

nine eight seven eight and four

two four nine seven six

[Bottom Right]

praying mantis, folded hands,

the greenbug turns to brown

the brownbug turns to turpentine

its smile starts to frown

[Bottom Middle]

some doors never open

Seasons Greetings Blessed One

First Appearance: The End of the World

Seasons greetings blessed one

This is when it hurts the most

Your namesake shift in worlds returned

Seven hands without a host

So Funny is the Mockingbird

First Appearance: The Collector

So funny is the mockingbird, the way it mocks you so.

The way it commandeers your voice and shows you all you need to know.

But when that mockingbird don't sing - when you can't find your voice.

Just scream until your throat goes numb and drown your sorrows in the noise.

Hydrangea Fields

First Appearance: The Collector

Hydrangea fields and hummingbirds -

Keys without a lock to hide in

The taste of mother's milk turned sour -

And a messy room you should have died in


Your teeth will melt once more

Learn to use your hands

Your third great love has wilted

A Flicker in the Attic Light

First Appearance: The Collector

> One goes out and one comes in,
> I wonder why that is?
> There's a flicker in the attic light,
> I think it might be his.

> follow me
> to be a better you

Home is Where the House is

First Appearance: Not the Nightingale

Home is where the house is, but the house won't let me in.

That's FINE because I KEPT a second KEY inside her skin}

I heard there was a secret chord, the secret's spread to thin -

Her tongue still tastes like arsenic//her bones are in the bin

In Regards to the Peony

First Appearance: In Regard to the Peony

The peony sleeps in its bed of unrest -
'neat the fireflies' wings and their humble caress

The end of an onset - the base of a nest -
in a future so fertile; one loss acquisced.

The plucking of feathers - stems torn from the soil.
The egg might be old, but who says it has spoiled?

To drink in its yolk; to bathe in its oil -
makes this little girl squeal, lest the garden recoils.

Christmas Day

First Appearance: Goodnight Moon

It's the 25th at 2:00 AM - I just heard Santa leave.

I can't wait to see my gifts this year. I've been up since Christmas Eve.

Mom says to stay put in my room - Dad says I must be good.

But good girls get excited too. I wish they understood -

How badly that I want those gifts. How wondrous they must be -

I didn't even make a list this year. Santa, what's in store for me?

A pony or a peony? A dollhouse or a doll?

Maybe Santa gave me all of them? Maybe Rudolph's in the hall?

I can't help but break the rules this time. I'm so gleeful, I can't wait.

So I throw open my bedroom door! Sprint down the stairs, but...

It's too late.

There's nothing near the Christmas tree, but that fat man drank the milk.

He ate my homemade cookies and spilled crumbs across the Christmas silk.

Now I'm grounded and in trouble. Mom is angry, Dad is pissed.

And I can't help but sit and wonder what would happen if I made a list.

If I turned the cuckoo backward, would it cry again at midnight?

Would Santa break into our home? Should I turn back on the light?

I'm a good girl every other day. It's just one rule I defied.

So why should *I* be punished while the bad girls play outside?

With their peonies and ponies. Their dollhouses and dolls.

I watch them from my window. Footsteps echo down the hall -

I think it's Santa here again. No, I think it might be God.

He mocks me from behind the door, but I see through his facade.

As it turns out, Santa isn't real. I've accepted nothing is.

That some girls just draw the short straw due to helplessness or haplessness.

I'm giving up on Christmas. I'm giving up on fate.

Starting now, I'll make my own gifts. Starting now, I'll...

"Oh, I forgot to come up with a rhyme for the last line."

On the Way to Twenty-Four

First Appearance: You & Me Against the World

When the morning comes, you'll feel much better. Every day you grow some more.

A perfect season, perfect weather -

On the way to twenty-four.

I Found a Dying Parrot

First Appearance: Weak Man, Weak Boy

I found a dying parrot, I locked him in a cage.
My intention was to free him just before he'd come of age.
But I grew a liking to that bird. The way he sung was sweet.
Now I give him seeds and water, and he makes me feel complete.

I'm not allowed to keep a bird here.
There are rules against that sort of thing.
But it's fun to break the rules sometimes,
It's fun to chirp, it's fun to sing.

Give us this day our daily bread, and I'll give you back your home.
Because when that mockingbird don't mock -
All you have are hollow bones.

- The Girl Who Cannot Breathe.

What Skills I Need to Fly

First Appearance: The Motherland Calls!

For a week now, I've been wondering - what skills I need to fly.

If hope alone can grant me wings - if concern alone is fine.

But the problem with this dream of mine's not the chance that I might die -

It's the fact that I might hurt you.

It's the chance that you might cry.

Who raps upon my chamber door? Who crawls across these marble floors?

Who scratches at my coffin's lid and mocks the raven's "nevermore?"

I hear things, Boy. I'm scared. I'm yours!

But you're not here when I need you.

There's no glow to make me pure.

They're here again. I hear them. Those endless, violent knocks -

It's been three weeks since I've slept, I think - this dead bird never mocks.

But the blues and reds still fly, I think. I think the door's unlocked.

I think I think I'm losing it. I think I think I'm lost.

Arakiel's silhouette - Azrael's old cot>

Daniel's misbegotten snake - Etinsib Ziwa's war/Nbat!

Harmozel and Hofniel* What Gossamer forgot}

I think my light is burning out.

I fear my mind will rot.

Cicada Songs and Lemon Drops

First Appearance: Miraculous Human-Glue

Cicada songs and lemon drops - a shiny coin for choco-pops.

A puddle near that old oak tree - the things that you would do to me.

Play make-believe. Play hide and seek. Play hopscotch during Golden Week.

That hamster wheel we bought last year - a picture book of grazing deer.

And a pile of rocks that does naught but make me wish that I was home.

With tickle-fights and bug-filled nets - we'd stare up at that spring sunset.

Think "This is great!" or "Wonderful!" or "Splendid view!" or "Colorful!"

Or "I think I'm sad" or "My head still hurts" or "I'm really sad" or "My stomach hurts."

We used to think so many things. We had so many songs to sing.

But now we rarely open our mouths because our teeth keep dripping onto our candy bars.

Such better days, I miss our youth! I miss all of my time with you!

I miss falling down. Miss bandaged knees. Miss fireflies and centipedes.

Miss the way you looked when you'd look at me. Miss the way I looked when I couldn't see.

I can do that now. All the light's grown in. But my youth is gone, I'm spread too thin.

And I keep seeing things that I know aren't actually there but they feel like they're there and I've begun to pull my hair out.

Cherry-scented soap and pine - a silly tune to pass the time.

A paddleboat through River Styx - a skeleton! A house with bricks!

A knife wound in your upper thigh - I'll press down hard so you won't cry.

It's soup again. It's dinner time. I'll hold your hand if you hold mine.

I don't know how much longer I can keep having these dreams of our youth without sweetening my midnight tea with arsenic.

Some nights I think it would make them last forever.

Some nights I think I'm being watched.

- Girl

Summer Glow

First Appearance: Miraculous Human-Glue

Springing forward, summer glow - autumn's kiss in winter snow.

The paths we take, the shoes we wear - those tattered soles in grave despair.

I once felt death was make-believe. I once felt love, then watched it leave.

Now floorboards creak and call for me - but you won't speak nor talk to me.

And that's why I'll never sleep alone.

We're close than you know, Boy.

This house is not your home.

Hell Doth Repent

First Appearance: Happy

Heaven-sent, hell doth repent

the evils in its home.

A million nights, but just one spent-

Impossibly alone.

A Pep in my Step

First Appearance: The Clod and the Pebble

There's a pep in my step as I step up the steps. And in other news, the sky is blue. Just this time there's a smile too.

The smile is red, my girlfriend is dead, and for lack of more rhyming, GET OUT OF MY HEAD.

The Ones you Keep Inside

First Appearance: Priestess of Fallen Snow

Spiderwebs. A calendar. The ones you keep inside.

A god. A bucket. Heresy. A man who almost died.

A ghost. A moon. She's lying. There's nowhere we can hide.

We're done. We're doomed. We're dying. The well has nearly dried.


[The rest of it is in hex, which I have translated.]

When he shall die, take him and cut him into little stars

And he will make the face of Heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night

And pay no worship to the garish sun

[LINE BREAK]

Go unto them and make them believe, but make them trust you first

Cursed be those gentiles lest they destroy the world we have built

From atop this roof I speak to you, o messenger. O child.

You are permanent and perfect. I am rabid and reviled.

The Hallway of Life

First Appearance: Every Day Birds (In Nothing But Blood)

The hallway of life is door upon door.

Each door has a doorknob. Each opens to secrets.

One secret. One doorknob.

Daily, I choose a doorway to walk through.

At times I'm confused for I know that each door is a new day to live, a new way to struggle, a new way to give.

I stand in this hall lined with doors, doors galore, knowing each doorway will open to more -

Seeking the one that will make me feel free -

And turning a doorknob to find a new me...

Imagine

First Appearance: The One With A Happy Ending

imagine what it's like to have your hands and feet combined
imagine how it feels to place your handfoothand in mine
imagine how the stars move
imagine how they burn
imagine if we dogfoot and the foot and the handfoot churn

What Makes a Girl

First Appearance: Tree Village (The Color Machine)

WHAT MAKES A GIRL A GIRL AND NEVER SOMEONE'S GOD
WHAT MAKES THE DIRT THE DIRT OR MUD BUT NEVER SOMEONE'S SOD
WHAT MAKES A SPECIAL WISH FOR WHAT WILL NEVER COME TO LIGHT
WHAT MAKES THE LIGHT A LIGHT AND NOT A WISH FOR ONE MORE NIGHT

BEHOLDEN TO A BETTER BOY OR HALF A YEAR AT MOST
ABOARD INSIDE THE ATTIC HIDES A PINKY FINGER'S GHOST

Pick a Pack of Pickled Peppers

First Appearance: What's in the Pot?

pick a pack of pickled peppers pedophilic park
jesus christ is on the cross and noah's on the ark
in different times and places god would pull us apart
so pick a pack of pickled peppers ~ lock me in the dark

Another Moment Squandered

First Appearance: The Art of Drowning

aNOTHER MOMENT SQUANDERED
bY THE BONES INSIDE YOUR HANDS
hOW THE THINGS THAT YOU SHOULD NEVER TOUCH
aRE THE ONES THAT HE DEMANDS

nEXT TIME IT WILL BE YOUR CHOICE
tHE FALL HAS JUST BEGUN
fOR EVEN THESE FLOWERS BLOOM
tHEY DON'T FOLLOW THE SUN

O, Terrible Danger

First Appearance: Transpacific Sadness Symposium I: DEN OF THE MOLE RAT

O, terrible danger. O, big penis sex. O, world and its whirlpool. O, mole ratted necks.

O, poetry, pottery, lottery, Shrek. O, rhyming - O, timing - On Dasher, On Deck!

Envelop Me

First Appearance: Meet Me At Our Spot

Blackest night, envelop me -
Protect me from my dreams

For in them, I hear nothing
Not the cherub, nor its screams

Traditional

These poems lack a certified writer, as they're common pieces of prose within a certain culture.

As I Went Up the Apple Tree

First Appearance: Everything Evil

As I went up the apple tree
All the apples fell on me
Apple pudding, apple pie
Did you ever tell a lie?

Wallace Stevens

The Sense of the Sleight-Of-Hand Man

First Appearance: The End of the Tour (Glasswalker)

One’s grand flights, one’s Sunday baths,
One’s tootings at the weddings of the soul
Occur as they occur. So bluish clouds
Occurred above the empty house and the leaves
Of the rhododendrons rattled their gold,
As if someone lived there. Such floods of white
Came bursting from the clouds. So the wind
Threw its contorted strength around the sky.

Could you have said the bluejay suddenly
Would swoop to earth? It is a wheel, the rays
Around the sun. The wheel survives the myths.
The fire eye in the clouds survives the gods.
To think of a dove with an eye of grenadine
And pines that are cornets, so it occurs,
And a little island full of geese and stars:
It may be the ignorant man, alone,
Has any chance to mate his life with life
That is the sensual, pearly spuse, the life
That is fluent in even the wintriest bronze.

Walt Whitman

Roots and Leaves Themselves Alone

First Appearance: Side Event

Roots and leaves themselves alone are these;
Scents brought to men and women from the wild
    woods, and from the pond-side,
Breast-sorrel and pinks of love—fingers that wind
    around tighter than vines,
Gushes from the throats of birds, hid in the foliage
    of trees, as the sun is risen;
Breezes of land and love—breezes set from living
    shores out to you on the living sea—to you,
    O sailors!
Frost-mellow'd berries, and Third-month twigs,
    offer'd fresh to young persons wandering out
    in the fields when the winter breaks up,
Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever
    you are,
Buds to be unfolded on the old terms;
If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they
    will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to
    you;
If you become the aliment and the wet, they will
    become flowers, fruits, tall branches and trees.

William Blake

A Divine Image

First Appearance: A Tree Falls in the Forest

Cruelty has a Human Heart
And Jealousy a Human Face
Terror the Human Form Divine
And Secrecy, the Human Dress

The Human Dress, is forged Iron
The Human Form, a fiery Forge.
The Human Face, a Furnace seal'd
The Human Heart, its hungry Gorge.

Auguries of Innocence

First Appearance: Outcry of the Hunted Hare

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr' all its regions
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear
A Skylark wounded in the wing
A Cherubim does cease to sing
The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright
Every Wolfs & Lions howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul
The wild deer, wandring here & there
Keeps the Human Soul from Care
The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife
And yet forgives the Butchers knife
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belovd by Men
He who the Ox to wrath has movd
Shall never be by Woman lovd
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity
He who torments the Chafers Sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night
The Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar
The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat
The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
Poison gets from Slanders tongue
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envys Foot
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
It is right it should be so
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know
Thro the World we safely go
Joy & Woe are woven fine
A Clothing for the soul divine
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine
The Babe is more than swadling Bands
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made & Born were hands
Every Farmer Understands
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity
This is caught by Females bright
And returnd to its own delight
The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of Death
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
Does to Rags the Heavens tear
The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole Nation sell & buy
He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mockd in Age & Death
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
The Questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to Reply
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesars Laurel Crown
Nought can Deform the Human Race
Like to the Armours iron brace
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply
The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will neer Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
Theyd immediately Go out
To be in a Passion you Good may Do
But no Good if a Passion is in you
The Whore & Gambler by the State
Licencd build that Nations Fate
The Harlots cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet
The Winners Shout the Losers Curse
Dance before dead Englands Hearse
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day

How sweet I roam'd from field to field

First Appearance: Caterpillar

How sweet I roam'd from field to field,
    And tasted all the summer's pride,
'Till I the prince of love beheld,
    Who in the sunny beams did glide!

He shew'd me lilies for my hair,
    And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair,
    Where all his golden pleasures grow.

With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
    And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
    And shut me in his golden cage.

He loves to sit and hear me sing,
    Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
    And mocks my loss of liberty.

Infant Joy

First Appearance: Before the Sun Comes Up

I have no name
I am but two days old.—
What shall I call thee?
I happy am
Joy is my name,—
Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!
Sweet joy but two days old,
Sweet joy I call thee;
Thou dost smile.
I sing the while
Sweet joy befall thee.

Poison Tree

First Appearance: Glued to the Sky

I was angry with my friend.
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears.
Night and morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he know that it was mine.

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

The Chimney Sweeper

First Appearance: Worry Not, The Mason Jar

When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry " 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.

There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved, so I said,
"Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."

And so he was quiet, & that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping he had such a sight!
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, & Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black;

And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins & set them all free;
Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing they run,
And wash in a river and shine in the Sun.
'
Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind.
And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father & never want joy.

And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm;
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

The Sick Rose

First Appearance: Invisible Worm

O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

The Clod and the Pebble

First Appearance: The Clod and the Pebble

"Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."

So sung a little Clod of Clay
Trodden with the cattle's feet,
But a Pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:

Love seeketh only self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.