gallery  The unofficial poet laureate of the US

The Rose of the Rose Family by Robert Frost

The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose
But the theory now goes

That the apple’s a rose,

And the pear is, and so’s
The plum, I suppose.

The dear only knows

What will next prove a rose.

You, of course, are a rose —

But were always a rose.

I guess most of us do grow up, grow old, however you say it. But growing is a goid thing, if you’re growing in the right direction.

Acquainted with the Night by Robert Frost

have been one acquainted with the night. 

I have walked out in rainand back in rain. 

I have outwalked the furthest city light. 

I have looked down the saddest city lane. 

I have passed by the watchman on his beat 

And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. 

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet 

When far away an interrupted cry 

Came over houses from another street, 

But not to call me back or say good-bye; 

And further still at an unearthly height, 

One luminary clock against the sky 

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. 

I have been one acquainted with the night.

All the things I thought I wanted, got nearly all of them. I was some twisted kid. I was a twisted adult too. But 25 years of hell will knock your inner nutjob out, for good.  But that same inner nutjob can’t save your ass from your inner nutjob dreams come true. I’ll have to post and get on. My head is lousy with inner brawls.


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