I sometimes think about old tombs and weeds. That interwreathe among the bones of kings. With cold and poisonous berry and black flower: Or ruminate upon the skulls of steeds. Frailer than shells and on those luminous wings -The shoulder blades of Princes of fled power, Which now the unrecorded sandstorms grind. Into so wraith-like a translucency. Of tissue-thin and aqueous bone- A Reverie of Bone
Mervyn PeakeAbout author
- Author's profession: Writer
- Nationality: british
- Born: July 9, 1911
- Died: November 17, 1968
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For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can't readily accept the God formula, the big answers don't remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command nor faith a dictum. I am my own god. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so...
Charles Bukowski