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O Drone you are down!

Like albatross You



Are shot down the sky-



In the silent hour

Hell keeps no account 



Of shame and glee:



When fools walk around flee

-

O Drone you are down!

Benny

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Out of the blue these lines came into my mind “What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
Turn thee, Benvolio. Look upon thy death. (Ac.1sc.1)”
Writing a whole play is not worth my while. You cannot improve upon a rose any more than a play of the bard.
So I shall do a sketch; what if Benvolio had put up a fight?
B:
Shears of hell thy blade be-
But what fear hold I,
you wretched Tybalt?
(Drawing a stiletto from the folds of cloak),
This short but nasty
steel knows no fear;
nor my wrist hurt of insults
hurled at me.
(Lungest at Tybalt and wounds him)
Caught you in midst of
sins unconfessed
Didn’t I?
And begone!
Hounds of hell yelp at the gate.
At the gate already!
You shall sup with  worms tonight “
Benny
Afterall the BBC 2 program ‘Pointless’ has a point. This evening I watched the contestants having to fill the blanks of the lines from the Bard. It set me thinking.

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In Imitation of Dante’s Divine Comedy

Much was my confusion simulated
By dream within the life and yet the three
Stood a solemn wake about by the bedstead. 48

‘Why three’, I spoke, ‘and perhaps my soul free
Ranging in his sphere did send you hither
Or unbidden, least on truth shall we agree? 51

Choose what theme, although I may yet gather
from discourse what dreams do speak are fleeting
Its substance being laid neither here nor there’. 54

‘Why three?’, Why not five or one for asking
If you concede soul its circumference
Why settle for form and not unbound nothing? 57

In Conception what form you place summons
shades o’ meaning to which soul is but token,
As windswept clouds can toss pell mell a sense- 60

From shapes the eye will find names well spoken
But the wind casts it spell,- and what you read
Yet will vary, but fall within your ken. 63

The Sibyl spoke truly and she my rede
forestalled with words, ‘Look in your mirror
If we be the three Graces,- you concede 66

So much for the soul, it tells no error-
In the glass what form you would take
Paris must fit and here is our answer: 69

Art must but choose chaos so I would make
Names Raphael Michelangelo but
Two digits o’ selfsame Hand from it rake: 72

And so are we One in three forms strut
Imagination without Hand a lie
And without Art, we,- No more than a slut 75.

(To be continued)

Benny

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Sleep is nature’s cure when body has run
His weary rounds, a bed is just the thing;
Still is the body but his soul moves on; 30

Between being and un-being sleep holds something
A balancing act where a starry heaven
To the measure o’ man, but is this soul thing? 33

Death must with sleep settle in dimension
Altogether new for which leave my soul
To know worth and reckon the best bargain. 36

Soul must arbiter for all who their goal,
Being bonded for life and beyond, serves man
A pole star, to lift man out of his hole. 39

Thus it was with me one night when sleep had
Taken ease, I suspect my soul sent the three
Fates of Attic shape who before me stood, 42

The dream with Sibyls set my confines free
As though I lay beneath the vault of Sistine
And the three had stepped out on a spree! 45

(To be continued)
Benny

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A walk to the park
in a drizzle unhurried,
Oh, the heave about my throat
is gone.
And the asphalt gleams with desire-
My feet may slosh through
A puddle or two,-never mind
But autumn is at my feet:
The greens are gold and
Red flushed with fleeting clouds
Overhead.
Intimations
Of winter tousle my hair
Even as geese glides to their tryst,
Silent before a world gone to sleep.
Benny

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Where shall my excess baggage go
When death sends my spirit as such
On a carousal beyond farthest reach?

My spirit has its sphinx-like riddle:
Never shall my lips tattletale carry,
My soul shall have his will.

No matter something of vision I leave
placid lakes mirror rolling face of heaven
It is as though I have come unbidden;

Well seek not where wind blows leaves
Plucked out of its nest by violence:
Consider it as though in remembrance
Done for one for whom death came by chance.

Benny

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This gun can kill one,-
Loaded but my trigger wont
jerk at another jerk.
2.
Blessed toy in hand
Is my glock- no holy gow
But self winding glock.
3.
Pittsburg synagogue,
Prayer all stopped because
A Schmuck with his gun sprayed.

Benny

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