***
Once again, my Baby's mad with me

And I can't even kick her.
My PC really has a way of driving me nuts! Damn virus, whatever it is. Damn internet connection (so slow? Oh why!)

I wrote a mediocre essay on Water Shortage in the 21st century. Oh well, at least I got my writing reflexes cranking again. I've been writing far too much crap and nothing of much quality recently. But then again, maybe you don't think I ever write anything of quality.

*shrugs*

***

More poetry.

From Swinburn's A Leave Taking

Let us rise up and part; she will not know.
Let us go seaward as the great winds go,
Full of blown sand and foam; what help is here?
There is no help, for all these things are so,
And all the world is bitter as a tear.
And how these things are, though ye strove to show,
She would not know.

***
And a fleshed out Frankenstien of Neil Gaiman's The Gates of Hell from his Sandman's Preludes and Nocturnes.
I really love this poem (And I can't believe I misplaced the novel :( )
This was when Dream went back to Hell to retrieve his helm.

At The Gates of Hell - Complete Piece

It’s a little late
Is there still time for salvation

Any delay to account for
That unjustified bout
Of Aggression?

Or the sinful little round
Of incestuous relation

Can you account for your soul
That has so degenerated
Into moral dissention

Or is it too late.
There’s no time for salvation.

A little trip,
A little tumble,
And fall.

Into the cesspool of
Fires,
Lies,
And dissolute shit.

Ding Dong
Goes the great brass bell
At the gates of hell

Says the keeper of hell
To the freshly fell

There’s one at the gate,
The gate to damnation,
And there’ll room for one more,
Till the end of creation