Music when

soft voices die (to — J 💌)

Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the belovèd’s bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on

— Percy Bysshe Shelley

Love Hurts

Our kiss, and then our kisses were beyond reason; they were really and truly utterly otherworldly

Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.

And why, why in the name of the devil, of god and James Dean does this have to be the fucking way? Are we so bloody damn stupid, so flippant when all’s roses? Why the fucking hell can’t we appreciate the priceless things whilst they’re within our grasp; why the fuck must we lose something to be able to realise its true value? Rosie Lee, you have my Strawberry tart, it will be with you until the day it ceases to beat. Period. Full stop. End of. Immutably so.

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

Amoretti LXXV

“One Day I Wrote Her Name”

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.

“Vain man,” said she, “that dost in vain assay,
A mortal thing so to immortalize;
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eke my name be wiped out likewise.”

“Not so,” (quod I) “let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your vertues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name:

Where whenas death shall all the world subdue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew.”

— Edmund Spenser

Roman Numerals
Roman numerals are the numbers that were used in ancient Rome, which employed combinations of letters from the Latin alphabet:
I — 1
V — 5
X — 10
L — 50
C — 100
D — 500
M — 1,000

Numbers are represented by putting the symbols into various combinations in different orders. The symbols are then added together, for example:
— I + I + I, written as III, is 3.
— To write 11 we add X (10) and I (1) and write XI.
— For 22 we add X and X and I and I, so XXII.

Roman numerals are usually written in order, from largest to smallest and from left to right, but more than three identical symbols never appear in a row. Instead, a system of subtraction is used. When a smaller number appears in front of a larger one, that needs to be subtracted, so:
IV is 4 (5 – 1)
IX is 9 (10 – 1)
The subtraction system is used in six cases:
— I is placed before V and X so, IV is 4 and IX is 9.
— X is placed before L (50) and C (100) so, XL is 40 and XC is 90.
— C is placed before D (500) and M (1000) so, CD is 400 and CM is 900.

So, “LXXV” equates to: 75.

Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm’d;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

— William Shakespeare

See too: ‘sOnly a sOnnet

✍🏻 How I Yearn 4 U

[ . & your perfect smile . ]

    I burn beyond belief
    I crave u desperately
    You’re my opium & oxygen
    u say:
    (( the last fight killed me ))
    (( I’m broken ))
    (( I’m now a different person ))
    But, i need u 2 no:
    2 me u r u and, u R u
    U 2 me r utterly irreplaceable
    I live only 2 be with u
    U R my One&Only
    ~ My Heat
    ~~ My Heart
    ~~~ My Happiness
    ~~~~ My Heaven-sent Heroine
    Your honey IS MY heroin.

From here to infinity

✍🏻 The Pain

is so truly limitless

  I‘d read about love on many an occasion
  Love, they said, could kill without any exertion
  Until last month this was abstract exposition

  Inconsolable now; I’m “dead on the inside”
  Love so pristine, which I’ve now rendered denied
  Unless I can make mends, pure heartache will preside

  Irreplaceable: You are a unique snowflake
  Love so pure flowed between us; let’s not forsake
  U R the only one, of this, make no mistake.

The Unknown Citizen

Just another number…

(To JS/07 M 378
This Marble Monument
Is Erected by the State)

He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be

One against whom there was no official complaint,

And all the reports on his conduct agree

That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint,

For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.

Except for the War till the day he retired

He worked in a factory and never got fired,

But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.

Yet he wasn’t a scab or odd in his views,

For his Union reports that he paid his dues,

(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)

And our Social Psychology workers found

That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.

The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day

And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.

Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,

And his Health-card shows he was once in a hospital but left it cured.

Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare

He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Installment Plan

And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,

A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.

Our researchers into Public Opinion are content

That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;

When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went.

He was married and added five children to the population,

Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation.

And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education.

Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:

Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.

— W. H. Auden