left is the new right our reality shocks me not one taught in school

now i’m on their side i rowed to the other shore to find the same thing

engulfed in a rage of destructive proportions can’t find my way back

emotional fool can’t communicate for shit saying the wrong thing

misunderstood knave sits crying in the corner desolate and [...]]]> idealist at heart
clinging to some value
long lost of meaning

left is the new right
our reality shocks me
not one taught in school

now i’m on their side
i rowed to the other shore
to find the same thing

engulfed in a rage
of destructive proportions
can’t find my way back

emotional fool
can’t communicate for shit
saying the wrong thing

misunderstood knave
sits crying in the corner
desolate and lost

stupid idiot
I can’t play the fucking game
or keep my mouth shut

sharing my best thought
coming out convoluted
an attempt gone wrong

it echoes through space
with shrill harshness and anger
affect opposite

what is the truth
its inconvenient and dull
let me be a star

Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books; Or surely you’ll grow double: Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks; Why all this toil and trouble?

The sun above the mountain’s head, A freshening lustre mellow Through all the long green fields has spread, His first sweet evening yellow.

Books! ’tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear [...]]]> The Tables Turned by William Wordsworth

Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;
Or surely you’ll grow double:
Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?

The sun above the mountain’s head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.

Books! ’tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There’s more of wisdom in it.

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless–
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:–
We murder to dissect.

Enough of Science and of Art;
Close up those barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.

– William Wordsworth