Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

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Deep Sleep

by Gregory N

Sleep, deep, not a peep
a fellow, on a pillow, does lie
awoken, too long, his sleep does prolong
till next dawn at peace, at least.

Away, afar, in a place, a face
a love, long lost, does stir
he speaks, and seeks, to her heart
till again, as a man, can be hers.

In spaces, small memories, surprise
flash, crash, over the mind
indigo, violet, crimson in his head
till the sun wakes him up, aware.

He who sings frightens away his ills. Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote

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Tags of Verse.
There ls  ever a song somewhere, my dear.
Be the skies above dark or fair,
There is ever a song that our hearts may hear;
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear,
There ls ever a song somewhere!
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear,
In the midnight black or the midday blue;
The robin pipes when the sun is here.
And the cricket chirrups the whole night
The buds may blow, and the fruit may grow,
And the autumn leaves drop crisp and sere
But whether the sun or the rain or the snow, .
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear.
J. W. Riley.
Tags of Verse. (1899, December 9). Australian Town and Country Journal (Sydney, NSW

“Curb your fretting, tadpole, or the frog of your future will fail to croak.’ Thaddeus” ― Paul Collins, Dragonsight

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To a Frog.
(By W.O.S.)
Little green and gold frog.
Seldom seen and cold’frog,
Watching me so wisely . neath the leafy
dome above;
Gallant little fellow,
With your eyes of yellow.
Tell me, little creature have you ever
been in love?
Little glad arid gold frog.
Sometimes’gay and bold frog.
Watching ‘tadpoles swimming’-in the
limpid depths below
Happy hours aré sweetest,
Golden days are fleetest,
Love and youth are over and old
Father Time a foe.
Little worn and old frog,
Often tir’d and cold frog.
Misty twilight beckons-it is time to
creep away;
All Life’s lessons learning.
Loving, mating, yearning.
Sleep and rest serenely in your narrow
bed of clay.

freedom (personal, artistic, sexual); mutability (of an existential sort); tension (historical, cultural, creative); beauty (natural and architectural); and a haunted atmosphere, amenable to ghosts and witches.

These qualities can be seen in the five chief evocations of Provincetown in Mailer’s work from 1958 to 1984.

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Provincetown has always been ahead of the rest of the nation. One of the things I love about this town and that I always tell people who haven’t been here, is that this is the freest town in America. People can argue. But it’s free now with the gay population, and it was free long ago when the artists came here. You could live with whomever you wanted and in any combination that you wanted. To have sexual freedom has always been terribly important to artists.


I WALKED to the green gum-tree. Because the day was hot; A snake could be anywhere. But that time I forgot

The Brown Snake – Douglas Stewart

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But I have a question. Do we need the services of a reptile to lead us to our enlightenment? Can’t we, so called humans, do it on our own? Questions and questions. No answers.
“Look within for answers,” says Osho.

I dare not look within now and let the serpent catch sight of me.

Kundalini Snake: Help!