You, publisher, arts thou bent?
Claimeth organ blister
For editorial mister But can thou be proud
Of the blood that flows through & through?
Whence mine of a mighty race
and a power decreed
From heaven until our doom it doest do weave
From sapling do cum seed;
& size no guarantee,
Of progeny with will strong and true
And imbued with wit and intelligence
Fred N
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Comments (4)
Anonymous
said:
 |
I know, those dumb wogs, Celine, Dostoyevsky, Nietzchse, etc Give us real wit: Milton, Chaucer, TS Eliot. What's the use of comparing blood? You must have some real inferiorty complex to try and align your identity with a dubious, illusory, 'mighty' race. I guess you have a deep need to be proud of something, and, failing to find any personal attributes, are trying to latch on to some grand race. Very basic, been done over and over by insecure individuals time over and over: 'The chosen people', 'Aryan blood', 'The wahtusi', 'The twist'...yawn Brent Eady |
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