He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,
One of the low on whom assurance sits
As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
Endeavours to engage her in caresses
Which are still unreproved, if undesired.
Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
Exploring hands encounter no defence;
His vanity requires no response,
And makes a welcome of indifference.
(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
Enacted on this same divan or bed;
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
Bestows one final patronising kiss,
And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit...
And there he jumped, into the harrowing pit!
Everybody climb into the oven.
Everybody climb into the oven.
Why would you want to desecrate a perfectly good oven with such word-vomit? Then you'd just have a humongous mess to clean up, even.
And there he jumped, into the harrowing pit!
Yes, I'm positive this rhythmless rhyme is exactly what was in Eliot's first draft.
Yep, everyone learns somehow.
When will you, I wonder.
iknorite?
_EW_
"April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain."
I am the Sun, I am the Moon
I'm living in the Scarlet Dream
Born in heaven and raised in hell
I'm wandering in the Scarlet Dream
Oh hey, this thread is like 2 years old now.
I will milk the cow, while mr. Bean masters the sneaky bow;
You go to the booneys seeking hookers and cheap thrills, only to find that Louis ran out of pills.
Jet set the bitter tweakers get in the $hit pits to go find
a roasted piggy while Dragon Quest's Durran is getting jiggy...
With your mom...