The Long Break

Sorry everyone for the long break. I have been going through an extremely busy time in school. The only thing I have written in weeks is this:

“I used to deal with my feelings, my thoughts all in writing. But now I feel nothing. My head just always hurts;I’m always tired and my memory is hazy. How can I put my pen to paper when it hurts to even attempt to write this. I woke up one day without my creativity, my interest, my desire to write, and it has been replaced. Replaced by school readings, caffeine dependency and the necessity to spend my days watching a lot of movies on my couch. Even my cat has given up on me. And he’s only been in my life for two months…”

A little melo-dramatic I know. When I looked down and saw what I wrote I was like “WAAAAAAH.” I think my recent health issues are starting to seriously affect my mental state. SO in that regard, I think I’m gonna take a break from original content for my blog and just focus on my health. I will try to post things on a regular basis, but no promises. 

In the mean time I thought I’d share two of my favorite poems because like a good geek poetry cheers me up. So maybe these poems will help cheer you up:

The Charge of the Light Brigade by Alfred Tennyson

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
 Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!
“Charge for the guns!” he said:
Into the valley of Death
 Rode the six hundred.

“Forward, the Light Brigade!”
Was there a man dismay’d?
Not tho’ the soldier knew
 Someone had blunder’d:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
 Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
 Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
 Rode the six hundred.

Flash’d all their sabres bare,
Flash’d as they turn’d in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
 All the world wonder’d:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro’ the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel’d from the sabre stroke
 Shatter’d and sunder’d.
Then they rode back, but not
 Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
 Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro’ the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
 Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
 All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
 Noble six hundred.

 

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Hymn of the Immortal Warriors- Manowar

Sleipnir- Manowar

 

The Naming Of Cats by T. S. Eliot
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey–
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter–
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover–
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
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