Treatment Abuse, Behavior Modification, Thought Reform > Daytop Village

It's getting harder to remember...

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Paul St. John:
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gait,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William E. Henley

SEKTO:
Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck;
And yet methinks I have astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well,
By oft predict that I in heaven find:
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive,
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;
Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.

When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheered and cheque'd even by the self-same sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay,
To change your day of youth to sullied night;
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.

Shakespeare, Sonnets 14-15

none-ya:
You're damed if you do,
you're damed if you don't.
(repeat chorus)

My Dad

Inculcated:
The viewless and invisible Consequence
Watches thy goings-out, and comings-in,
And...hovers o'er thy guilty sleep,
Unveiling every new-born deed,
and thoughts
More ghastly than those deeds--

-Percy Bysshe Shelley

Inculcated:
How familiar it all becomes:
a photograph
Still murky in its chemical bath;
a tune or an aroma
Not quite placed but close in the mind,
And then yes, ah, that, my my…

…Remind, pray, tell
How thus the streaming Familiar
Is made to transfigure
Magick’d in the Candle’s Glow
From Meat to Spirit
And back once more

-August Kleinzhaler

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