This is a rebel song- Sinead O'Connor

I love you my hard Englishman
Your rage is like a fist in my womb
Can't you forgive what you think I've done
And love me - I'm your woman
And I desire you my hard Englishman
And there is no more natural thing
So why should I not get loving
Don't be cold Englishman

How come you've never said you love me
In all the time you've known me
How come you never say you're sorry
And I do

Ah, please talk to me Englishman
What good will shutting me out get done
Meanwhile crazies are killing our sons
Oh listen - Engishman
I've honored you - hard Englishman
Now I am calling your heart to my own
Oh let glorious love be done
Be truthful - Englishman

How come you've never said you love me
In all the time you've known me
How come you never say you're sorry
And I do
I do

by Tagore

Asks the Possible of the Impossible,

"Where is your dwelling-place?"

"In the dreams of the Impotent,"

comes the answer

Advice from.... Lao Tzu Tao Te Ching

sometimes things are ahead, and sometimes they are behind;
Sometimes breathing is hard, and sometimes it comes easily;
Sometimes there is strength and sometimes weakness:
Sometimes one is up and sometimes down.
Therefore, the sage sees things as they are without trying to control them.
She lets them go their own way,
And resides in the centre of the circle

Preparation by Sara Bard Field

To drop our leaves of sense;
Sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell,
Before death's imminence
Is wise—is gently well.
Leaf thirst for sun, rain, sap, and air is deep;
Bare branches only ask for sleep.

The treasure hunt by Robert Penn Warren

Hunt, hunt again. If you do not find it, you
Will die. But I tell you this much, it
Is not under the stone at the foot
Of the garden, nor by the wall at the fig tree.
I tell you this much to save you trouble, for I
Have looked, I know. But hurry, for

The terror is, all promises are kept.

Even happiness.

The Lesson by Maya Angelou

I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,
Rotting flesh and worms do
Not convince me against
The challenge. The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines along my face.
They dull my eyes, yet
I keep on dying,
Because I love to live.

Ontological by Maggie Anderson

This is going to cost you.
If you really want to hear a
country fiddle, you have to listen
hard, high up in its twang and needle.
You can't be running off like this,
all knotted up with yearning,
following some train whistle,
can't hang onto anything that way.
When you're looking for what's lost,
everything's a sign,
but you have to stay right up next to
the drawl and pull of the thing
you thought you wanted, had to
have it, could not live without it.
Honey, you will lose your beauty
and your handsome sweetie, this whine,
this agitation, the one you sent for
with your leather boots and your guitar.
The lonesome snag of barbed wire you have
wrapped around your heart is cash money,
honey, you will have to pay.