I’m making time in a roaring furnace
tender joy floods through my arteries when I think of the ecstasy of life
despite the rotten – really, the rotten, ill, prang –
ROTTON ILL PRANG – despite that, I know – and indubitably – that I am in love with life….
the thirst can be quenched?
yes yes yes
the soul’s tender fire;
born towards us from the past: the words that were here and there useless
coming at us from the past : words that are perhaps not arrogant enough to describe happiness, a peniscok
touch and go it can be
as to whether theres a place on the lifeboat for poetry
but then it ends up a no-brainerler la le la
and and and –
something I was agog to understand
re-reading Herman Hesse
I have a dead scouser’s scrumping to confesse……..
the lyrics – or many of them – to Imagine by his nibs……Mister John Lennon MBE – are purloined from Herman Hesse.
Is this commomn knowledge and muggins here is as usual the last to know>?