Assimilation of Broken Images

Out, out brief candle

Out damned spot

Hurry up please its time

I had not thought death had

undone so many.

Do you know what it is you read?

How can I, if there is no one to explain it me?


If I be the wisest, it is because I

know that I know Nothing.

I think, but because I exist,

don’t mean I understand.


What is that study that leads

us to the light of understanding?

Burst the bonds of the prisoner

Turn him round to the red hot glow

and naught he knows –

Knowledge is greater than he knew.

Thunder, lightening, and in rain

when hurly-burly’s done

How can we know if fair is foul

The truth be fair to know.

What do we know?

Squat heachens, round and round,

will there ever be an end?

As you wish.

King of Scotland,

King of Denmark,

Rightful heir denied.

Hyacinths from hyacinth girl.

Rue is for remembrance,

You must wear it with difference.

But violets are all used up:

They perished the paternal

Death-filled day.

Is woman woman? Or

Is woman man? –

The terrifying question.

No rock stuck fast

solid ground to stand.

All is crumbling; all –

It is but sifting sand.

The Rock must stand.

Forty thousand brothers

could not, with all their quantity

of love, make up my sum.

What wilt thou do for her?


And gnashing of teeth.

Signifying nothing.

Now you Know.


I am a HUGE fan of T. S. Elliot’s The Wasteland, and one day, I sat down and threw together this piece inspired by the line, “Hurry up please, it’s time.” We never have enough, especially when we concentrate on what’s not important.




Hurry up please its time

Time to hurry, you see

Time don’t offer mercy

Before the clock chimes.


Hurry, hurry

Rush the stuff in the streets

Marry the scary mean treats!

We only have time to scurry.


Up up

To the very top we go

The stop of the skyscraper row

Until we drop…


Please please

The end is nearing

The cars stopped steering

And there’s a dead jangle of keys


It’s it’s

It’s all life’n’death important

All professionally subservient

All falls to bits


Time time

Why don’t we have more?

What was it all for?

I thought it was all mine.


Ghastly charm emits

Lies from its marriages

The chime scurries

It drops dead to bits.