Hermine Redux

I like to dream yes, yes, right between my sound machine
On a cloud of sound I drift in the night
Any place it goes is right
Goes far, flies near, to the stars away from here

Well, you don't know what we can find
Why don't you come with me little girl
On a magic carpet ride
You don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me
Fantasy will set you free
Close your eyes girl
Look inside girl
Let the sound take you away

Last night I held Aladdin's lamp
And so I wished that I could stay
Before the thing could answer me
Well, someone came and took the lamp away
I looked around, a lousy candle's all I found

Well, you don't know what we can find
Why don't you come with me little girl
On a magic carpet ride
Well, you don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me
Fantasy will set you free
Close your eyes girl
Look inside girl
Let the sound take you away

You don't know what we can find
Why don't you come with me little girl
On a magic carpet ride
Well, you don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me

Ass-hole-ad

lot of eclipses lately

Note to Google and your stupendous idiocy of censorship:
Naturally, most of what I do is drivel. Relied mostly upon a poor memory with so-so nutrition to fund it. Here is some Emerson, remember him?, only when you forget those stupid memories you call thoughts does his sagacity sink in.
Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string.
Accept the place the divine providence has found for you,
the society of your contemporaries, the connection of
events. Great men have always done so, and confided
themselves childlike to the genius of their age, betraying
their perception that the absolutely trustworthy was
seated at their heart, working through their hands, predominating
in all their being. And we are now men, and
must accept in the highest mind the same transcendent
destiny; and not minors and invalids in a protected corner, not cowards fleeing before a revolution, but guides,
redeemers and benefactors, obeying the Almighty effort
and advancing on Chaos and the Dark.

Amen brother.

Emily Dickinson as read by Michael Scott

ON the bleakness of my lot
Bloom I strove to raise.
Late, my acre of a rock
Yielded grape and maize.

Soil of flint if steadfast tilled
Will reward the hand;
Seed of palm by Lybian sun
Fructified in sand.