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I cannot bring my battles to you,
So I lie here and wait for your peeping death.
I cannot raise my sword against you,
So I wait for death to unsheath.
Have you ever watched a raven peck at Eagle?
If you have my dear one, You have a lived a thousand ages,
I am but a child,
As a child I eat, like a child I drink,
Like a child I think and just as children fight- so do I.
I will wait for you to die.
Death is your master.
I do not want to die having done anything,
And I do not want to die having done nothing.
Idealism is futility,
Futility is your reality.
I admit it,
You drink from a golden chalice but your head is made of clay.
I won’t deny it,
I smear ash on my face but my heart knows not decay.
I am sorry that you are sorry,
I am also so sorry that I cannot please you.
Life is for the living,
Death is for the dead.
Do not worry about me – me who is the Reaper’s spawn.
I know a couple of unhappy sods,
And an even bigger poor sod,
All day long they hunch in their caves,
Waiting to light the fire with dead wood,
The bigger sod pisses on the little sods,
The piss spatters to the dead wood,
And the unhappy sods just keep rubbing the wood in their caves.
Hoping to light a fire with the wet dead wood.
I got to dance at fall and I got a wish granted by a wiry fairy,
I flew away to a land of knights and damsels,
Those sully idiots took but a shower a month.
The rivers were rough and the dams were muddy,
Just a shower a month.
Then I thought to myself how much I would like to be one of the damsels.
I’d get kidnapped by a younger dragon every month.
The knight in shining armour will sweat so much getting into the cave for me.
Just to kill a dragon every month.
‘But wait, why kill all the dragons?’
‘Oh my dear lass, they are dangerous, doth not seeth?’
‘But what if I want to keep one for me?’
‘Then I suppose we will get you a puppy.’
That sully idiot got me the puppy,
I pouted like a hungry kitty,
I rode my horse like one of those short fools of King Henry,
Vi veri verniversum vivus vici.
You look at me and you say no, just no,
You don’t see me but still no, just no.
You cannot hear me yet no, still no,
I sing a love song but no, a still no.
I dressed the way Lulu does and you said no, just no,
I dressed the way your mother once did and you shouted no, just no.
I talked the way the robins do yet no, still no,
I cried the way fairies do but no, still no.
I mimicked the peacock, yet no,
I copied the cat but no,
You still said no, you banged the desk with your no,
You close the chapter with a firm no.
Hurt that my heart does, the knowledge that I have killed you,
Cry that my eyes do for the blood I know I poured.
Oh Captain my captain, see what I have done you!
Better that you would have been blind,
Indeed you were blind.
Did they not beg you to see?
I am but a high wretched lady,
With a heart of stone, with a dead lover who is ever too blind to see,
And all fingers are pointed at me.
Forgive me sweet Anthony.
And while you are away, remember this charred heart that loves you,
Do not suffer very much, in eternity, soon I will join you.
I picked my bike and in a hurried way that is rather my own made my hurried way to Loon’s house,
I got in through the window and I got in through the door,
I knocked over her precious window vases and rather displaced her door mats.
Loon did not mind, it is Oxford you see.
I spoke quietly to Loon as she likes,
Then I shouted at her a little bit because she is somewhat deaf,
I bled her ears and rather made wet her face,
Loon was unfazed, she is the loon of oxford you see.
When time came for tea, she did not brew it,
In a rather conceited way, she threw two bags into my cup.
‘What a strange thing to do Loon!’
I was not surprised, she is a loon you see.
I spoke to her of her mother and her father and her siblings,
She spoke back at me dispassionately in terms of logic and reasonings,
‘Reasoning’ she corrected, I stared ever amazed.
Loon then took a huge swig from her bottle of gin; she always has one you see.
When it was time to say goodbye, she rose up rather too quickly,
Extended a dry yet warm handshake and a hug a squeeze too tight,
Said she would write and think of me as often as she did rub her eyes,
She is the Loon of Oxford, she often rubs her eyes you see.