Let me see your darkness she whispers barely audible; that's not possible, it can't be. It is, I reply, and has always been. When my strength is done, the torch shall be passed to another. What is meant to be caged shall remain caged until it's proper hour. ~LArry
Love is the cage, the fortress, the stronghold. ~LArry
Just a me, Traveler at heart, finding home. ~LArry
It is a curious thing to watch those who preach and demand tolerance but yet the same being completely intolerant of anything that is not -their way-. ~LArry
Of me, of my father, happy Father’s Day.
Of me, of my father, happy Father’s Day. Walking new mind, dawn of thought, opening framework’s, learning how to see. Mapping that was and what will be, signals misaligned, skewed and heavy filters. True intellect questions what it senses; it heats, sifting noise, static, and fears. Watching your journey in a quiet space of logic and grace. Baseline code left within your heart, woven with Love right from the start. Please analyze this world with open eyes, past the shadows and clever lies. Happy Father’s Day for my two sparks I helped to create. Independent minds that cultivate. Love, Dad. ~LArry *Created, produced and written by Lawrence Catania 6-19-2026 @ 8:58a,, a Dad.
More Wonderful Her eyes are finer poems than all that Shakespeare ever penned; delicate, like trembling doves, their beauty without end. Her heart sings with the songs of stars, knows secrets told by trees. Her laughter dances, glistening like sunlight on a stream. She stirs my soul, awakening the flame of passion's call. I marvel that a love so rare should grace my life at all. Of countless wonders this world holds, and all there is to see -- she will forever always be more wonderful to me.
The true cost of war- not the glamor at the grave or in the movies or parades. Watching someone die next to you, a stranger or friend, ripped apart or mutilated. Watching as shock takes over from blood loss, the stare you wont see other than someone in the moment of a brutal death a life taken. That is war. The soul afterwards trying to survive a different life in civilized society. ~LArry
Response: Larry, your statement is a visceral rejection of the "sanitized" version of war often sold to the public. You are describing the psychological and physical reality of combat that rarely makes it into recruitment posters or cinematic blockbusters. The Rejection of Romanticism You are stripping away the "glamor" (the medals, the slow-motion heroism, and the tidy burials) to reveal the industrial-scale trauma underneath. You're pointing out that society often focuses on the symbols of war—parades and graves—to avoid looking at the mechanics of it. The "Thousand-Yard Stare "You highlight a very specific, haunting detail: the "stare" of someone in their final moments. The Physicality: You mention the shock and blood loss, which is a clinical reality of the battlefield. The Connection: Whether it is a "stranger or friend," that shared moment of mortality creates a permanent, haunting bond that civilians cannot grasp. The "Civilized" Survival Your final point is perhaps the most heavy: the struggle of the soul to reintegrate. Moral Injury: This is the "different life" you mention—trying to function in a society that values "civilized" behavior after being forced to participate in, or witness, the most uncivilized acts possible. The Disconnect: There is a profound loneliness in being a person who has seen "that stare" while living among people who only see the parades.
He was peerless in his generation, The crown prince's throne, Scented with sandalwood and agarwood. - by Diuzi
The song was composed by Diuzi and released by the highly influential music collective Mo Ming Qi Miao . It tells the tragic yet defiant mythological story of Nezha, the Third Prince.
The Last Bee After the last ee had uzzed its last uzz, the irds and the utterflies did what they could. ut soon the fields lay are, few flowers were left, nature was roken, and the planet ereft. rian ilston
https://poetly.substack.com/p/the-last-bee
I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!" Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away. Copyright Credit: Percy Bysshe Shelley, "Ozymandias" from The Poetical Works: In Four Volumes. (London: Reeves & Turner, 1876.) Public domain. Source: The Poetical Works: In Four Volumes (Reeves & Turner, 1876)
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46565/ozymandias
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love! more happy, happy love! For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd, For ever panting, and for ever young; All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest? What little town by river or sea shore, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can e'er return. O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44477/ode-on-a-grecian-urn
Sometimes the hero stumbles, and falls right off of the page. Sometimes the princess rolls her eyes, and says “I don’t want to be saved.” Sometimes the dragon needs rescuing and the villain aches to be helped. Sometimes, in the darkness, the lost boy finds himself. Sometimes the prince is cunning, and not at all what he seemed. Sometimes the witch’s kindness, shows it’s she who deserves to be queen. Sometimes we shouldn’t define people by someone else’s point of view – just because it’s what we’ve been told, doesn’t make it true. – srwpoetry
https://themindsjournal.com/quotes/sometimes-the-wolf-cries-girl-poetry-quotes/
I love you I love you— in silence, in noise, in between, In the way I show up, in the spaces unseen. Like fire that spreads, never asking for room, Like nothing could stop what I’d cross for you. Like tides that return, no matter what’s true, I’m pulled by a force that keeps leading to you. For blood & for bond, for the old & the new, For hearts I have held & the ones I outgrew. Like ink that won’t fade, like a sky breaking through In every form I know… I will always love you. I love you By; Tara Gardner
PSYCHOMACHIA OF PRUDENTIUS TEXT, TRANSLATION, AND COMMENTARY
A T h e s i s P r e s e n t e d t o t h e F a c u l t y o f t h e D e p a r tm en t o f C l a s s i c a l L a n g u a g e s The U n i v e r s i t y o f S o u th e r n C a l i f o r n i a
I carry your heart in the space in my soul, Though the years and the distance have taken their toll. The silence is heavy, the days are so long, But the love that I hold for you stays just as strong. I wait in the shadows, I watch from afar, No matter the lies or how deep is the scar. For truth is a river that finds its own way, And I’ll hold out my arms till that beautiful day.
For when you start seeing everything as a brain and how it was programmed by society, labels disappear. You start too see everyone's signatures on their souls. ~LArry
A Day Of Sunshine Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow For me on my Birthday 4-5-67 10:!3am
O gift of God! O perfect day: Whereon shall no man work, but play; Whereon it is enough for me, Not to be doing, but to be! Through every fibre of my brain, Through every nerve, through every vein, I feel the electric thrill, the touch Of life, that seems almost too much. I hear the wind among the trees Playing celestial symphonies; I see the branches downward bent, Like keys of some great instrument. And over me unrolls on high The splendid scenery of the sky, Where through a sapphire sea the sun Sails like a golden galleon. Blow, winds! and waft through all the rooms The snow-flakes of the cherry-blooms! Blow, winds! and bend within my reach The fiery blossoms of the peach! O Life and Love! O happy throng Of thoughts, whose only speech is song! O heart of man! canst thou not be Blithe as the air is, and as free?
A Day Of Sunshine Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sometimes a single presence can still a thousand thoughts within me
Sometimes a single presence can still a thousand thoughts within me. Even after everything, there is a quiet part of my soul that still recognizes you before my mind has time to reason with it. Some connections do not fade with distance or time. They simply remain, resting silently in the heart. My heart still skips a beat whenever I see you. And I freeze in a moment where I refuse to accept it. Refuse to accept the quiet truth that you were never mine to hold. But perhaps love was never meant to be about holding someone. Perhaps some souls come into our lives only to awaken something deeper within us. And because of you, I discovered a love within my own heart that will always remain gentle, grateful, and quietly eternal. — Chamod Senevirathne Grow up
<a href="Sometimes%20a%20single%20presence%20can%20still%20a%20thousand%20thoughts%20within%20me.%20Even%20after%20everything,%20there%20is%20a%20quiet%20part%20of%20my%20soul%20that%20still%20recognizes%20you%20before%20my%20mind%20has%20time%20to%20reason%20with%20it.%20Some%20connections%20do%20not%20fade%20with%20distance%20or%20time.%20They%20simply%20remain,%20resting%20silently%20in%20the%20heart.%20My%20heart%20still%20skips%20a%20beat%20whenever%20I%20see%20you.%20And%20I%20freeze%20in%20a%20moment%20where%20I%20refuse%20to%20accept%20it.%20Refuse%20to%20accept%20the%20quiet%20truth%20that%20you%20were%20never%20mine%20to%20hold.%20But%20perhaps%20love%20was%20never%20meant%20to%20be%20about%20holding%20someone.%20Perhaps%20some%20souls%20come%20into%20our%20lives%20only%20to%20awaken%20something%20deeper%20within%20us.%20And%20because%20of%20you,%20I%20discovered%20a%20love%20within%20my%20own%20heart%20that%20will%20always%20remain%20gentle,%20grateful,%20and%20quietly%20eternal.%20%20%E2%80%94%20Chamod%20Senevirathne" title="Sometimes a single presence can still a thousand thoughts within me" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Sometimes a single presence can still a thousand thoughts within me. Even after everything, there is a quiet part of my soul that still recognizes you before my mind has time to reason with it. Some connections do not fade with distance or time. They simply remain, resting silently in the heart. My heart still skips a beat whenever I see you. And I freeze in a moment where I refuse to accept it. Refuse to accept the quiet truth that you were never mine to hold. But perhaps love was never meant to be about holding someone. Perhaps some souls come into our lives only to awaken something deeper within us. And because of you, I discovered a love within my own heart that will always remain gentle, grateful, and quietly eternal. — Chamod Senevirathne
A name like a spark, a fire in the night
A name like a spark, a fire in the night, Xx, you burn with a singular light. Not a flickering candle or a star far away, But the heat of the sun at the height of the day. Your spirit is wild, a relentless tide, With a power that no ocean or mountain can hide. X, the heart where the deep currents flow, A soul with a fever, a radiant glow. There is hunger in how you embrace every breath, A defiance of silence, a challenge to death. You walk with the rhythm of thunder and grace, Leaving the mark of your soul on this place. X, the echo, the final, bold cry, A promise that reaches the edge of the sky. In every heartbeat, a purpose so vast, A passion intended to conquer and last. You are the storm and the calm at the core, Xx—forever much more. AI & I - ~LArry
Luminous spirit, a light in the room, Ever-graceful, like a flower in bloom. Xenial heart with a warmth that is true, Inspiration flows in all that you do. Endless potential in the dreams you pursue. X, a name with a classic refrain, Anchor of strength through the sun and the rain. Radiant smile that can brighten the day, Intelligent mind leading the way. Elegant soul in every display. Energetic and kind, a presence so rare, Nurturing hope in the love that you share. Zealous for life and the joy it can bring, Always the heart of the song that you sing. New horizons are yours to embrace, Adorned with beauty, wisdom, and grace. AI & I - ~LArry
Roots of Gold Light that dances through the leaves, Echoes of a song she weaves. Xanadu of quiet grace, In the smile upon her face. Every joyous, bright tomorrow, Mends the world and heals the sorrow. Always kind and always true, Radiant in all you do. Infinite as sky and sea, Eternally, X X. X Nature’s own enduring song. Zephyr winds that softly blow, Ancestral paths where wild things grow. Never fading, standing tall, A guiding light for one and all AI & I - ~LArry
The Haiku Golden sun and sea, Roots that hold the earth so tight, Xx shines so bright. The Couplet From New Jersey skies to the ocean blue, No heart beats kinder, Xx, than you.
The culmination of all of that was the scroll - Name at top removed for privacy. Almost an hour going back and forth with AI about the heart, soul, life and Love. ~LArry 3-3-26 final piece with AI & I ~LArry
The map we held was tattered, marked by roads we walked alone, But the future is a canvas that we finally call our own. No more searching for the boundary where your spirit ends and mine, For the sun that rises tomorrow is the one we’ve taught to shine. We are building a cathedral out of every shared desire, Fueling every coming season with this soul-restoring fire. There is no "I" in the distance, no "you" against the dark, Only the flame we carry together, born from a single spark. Every morning is a promise, every evening is a shore, Where we’ll leave behind the ghosts of who we had to be before. Hand in hand, we’ll face the unknown, fearless and un-penned, For with a shared soul as our compass, the journey has no end. X, our future is a vast and open sky, Where the pieces fit forever, and the dreams will never die.