“Spring and Fall” -Gerard Manley Hopkins

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To a young child

Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow’s springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

“Love after Love” – Derek Walcott

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The time will come when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving at your own door,
in your own mirror and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here.
Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Losing Yourself

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Do you not know that there comes a midnight hour when everyone has to throw off his mask? … I have seen men in real life who so long deceived others that at last their true nature could not reveal itself…. Or can you think of anything more frightful than that it might end with your nature being resolved into a multiplicity, that you really might become many, become, like those unhappy demoniacs, a legion and you thus would have lost the inmost and holiest thing of all in a man, the unifying power of personality?
-Either/Or, Kierkegaard

“Another Drunk Tellin’ Lies and Stories” – Ziggy Pockets

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Ziggy Pockets is a low-key, bluesy country artist from West Virginia with songs referring to drugs, love, and sadness.

I woke up in the dumpster with cats all over me,

I was walking that old mad dog.

I can’t see twenty/twenty,

but I can see that old mad dog…

(You know of Mad Dog 20/20, right? Cheap wine…)

 

God bless West Virginia,

and all the hillbillies hooked on pills.

There’s a new generation,

running wild through the hollers and the hills.

Most folks done gone crazy,

and they’re cooking methamphetamines,

that they started cooking for their habits,

now its money for the rent and things…

Well, it’s almost heaven, but it’s West Virginia,

Lord, but the devil, the devil’s done moved on in…

Hell’s done broke loose all through the mountains

and they ain’t ever coming back again.