Emotions and Feelings

Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.

Patio, heaven’s watercourse. The patio is the slope down which the sky flows into the house. Serenely eternity waits at the crossway of the stars.

The light is buried under chains and noises in impudent challenge of rootless science. Through the suburbs sleepless people stagger, as though just delivered from a shipwreck of blood.

I will not see it! Tell the moon to come for I do not want to see the blood of Ignacio on the sand.

Green, how much I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship upon the sea and the horse in the mountain.

Truly, I live in dark times! The guileless word is folly. A smooth forehead Suggests insensitivity. The man who laughs Has simply not yet had The terrible news.

Truly, I live in dark times! The guileless word is folly. A smooth forehead Suggests insensitivity. The man who laughs Has simply not yet had The terrible news.

Oh, the shark has pretty teeth, dear— And he shows them pearly white— Just a jackknife has Macheath, dear— And he keeps it out of sight.

Oh! Moon of Alabama We now must say good-bye We’ve lost our good old mama And must have whiskey Oh, you know why!

I burned my life, that I might find A passion wholly of the mind, Thought divorced from eye and bone, Ecstasy come to breath alone.

I burned my life, that I might find A passion wholly of the mind, Thought divorced from eye and bone, Ecstasy come to breath alone.

Farewell sadness Good morning sadness. 2

a hopeless case if—listen: there’s a hell of a good universe next door; let’s go

unless statistics lie he was more brave than me:more blond than you.

when the world is puddle-wonderful

Why is it no one ever sent me yet One perfect limousine, do you suppose? Ah no, it’s always just my luck to get

Guns aren’t lawful; Nooses give; Gas smells awful; You might as well live.

Guns aren’t lawful; Nooses give; Gas smells awful; You might as well live.

Four be the things I’d been better without: Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.

Four be the things I am wiser to know: Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.

Four be the things I am wiser to know: Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.

Courage was mine, and I had mystery, Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery: To miss the march of this retreating world Into vain citadels that are not walled.

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

What passing bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons.