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Kali Yuga, Poets and... I don't know... [The Heretic]

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The Heretic presents, an excerpt from Le Visible's "Kali Yuga, Poets and... I don't know."
I saw this piece and could not get it outta my head! Found here.
http://www.visibleorigami.com/2012/06/kali-yuga-poets-and-i-dont-know.html

If you really, really want something you get it. If you want it for the purity and beauty of what it is, it will take its clothes off in front of you. Real poets never get rich but the best expressions that Lady Nature can work her way into coming out for find their way into their beds. All real poets get tired of that early. They only want Lady truth to knock on their door and ask them if they are kind to strangers. Then she takes off her clothes and the world disappears.

It is a hard struggle in the aftermath because the world comes back again and truth puts her clothes back on. There isn't one of us to whom it happened that can remember what took place between the unveiling and recovering. People don't really read history, or if they do, their glasses fog up. Take the case of Richard Lovelace. I suspect almost no one here knows that story. Some of you might know his name and some of you might know that enduring poem he wrote. Here it is:

From Prison.
Song.
Set by Dr. John Wilson.

I
WHEN Love with unconfined wings
Hovers within my Gates ;
And my divine Althea brings
To whisper at the Grates ;
When I lye tangled in her haire
And fettered to her eye ;
The Gods that wanton in the Aire,
Know no such Liberty.

II
When flowing Cups run swiftly round
With no allaying Thames,
Our carelesse heads with Roses bound,
Our hearts with Loyall Flames ;
When thirsty griefe in Wine we steepe,
When Healths and draughts go free,
Fishes that tipple in the Deepe,
Know no such Libertie.

III
When (like committed linnets) I
With shriller throat shall sing
The sweetnes, Mercy, Majesty,
And glories of my KING ;
When I shall voyce aloud, how Good
He is, how Great should be ;
Enlarged Winds that curle the Flood,
Know no such Liberty.

IV
Stone Walls do not a Prison make,
Nor Iron bars a Cage ;
Mindes innocent and quiet take
That for an Hermitage ;
If I have freedome in my Love,
And in my soule am free ;
Angels alone that sore above,
Injoy such Liberty.



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