Devin+B

Paradise Lost

Is this the Region, this the Soil, the Clime, Said then the lost Arch-Angel, this the seat That we must change for Heav'n, this mournful gloom For that celestial light? Be it so, since he Who now is Sovran can dispose and bid What shall be right: fardest from him is best Whom reason hath equald, force hath made supream Above his equals. Farewel happy Fields Where Joy for ever dwells: Hail horrours, hail Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell Receive thy new Possessor: One who brings A mind not to be chang'd by Place or Time. The mind is its own place, and in it self Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n. What matter where, if I be still the same, And what I should be, all but less then he Whom Thunder hath made greater? Here at least We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: Here we may reign secure, and in my choyce To reign is worth ambition though in Hell: Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n. But wherefore let we then our faithful friends, Th' associates and copartners of our loss Lye thus astonisht on th' oblivious Pool, And call them not to share with us their part In this unhappy Mansion, or once more With rallied Arms to try what may be yet Regaind in Heav'n, or what more lost in Hell?

this poem is about heavn and hell and all the good and bad things about them thy are scared of hell because its a very scary place to be. They say heaven is a very happy place to be.

Was he looking for St. Lucia's light to touch his face those first days in the official November snow & sleet falling on the granite pose of Lincoln? If he were searching for property lines drawn in the blood, or for a hint of resolve crisscrossing a border, maybe he'd find clues in the taste of breadfruit. I could see him stopped there squinting in crooked light, the haze of Wall Street touching clouds of double consciousness, an eye etched into a sign borrowed from Egypt. If he's looking for tips on basketball, how to rise up & guard the hoop, he may glean a few theories about war but they aren't in //The Star-Apple Kingdom//. If he wants to finally master himself, searching for clues to govern seagulls in salty air, he'll find henchmen busy with locks & chains in a ghost schooner's nocturnal calm. He's reading someone who won't speak of milk & honey, but of looking ahead beyond pillars of salt raised in a dream where fat bulbs split open the earth. The spine of the manifest was broken, leaking deeds, songs & testaments. Justice stood in the shoes of mercy, & doubt was bandaged up & put to bed. Now, he looks as if he wants to eat words, their sweet, intoxicating flavor. Banana leaf & animal, being & nonbeing. In fact, craving wisdom, he bites into memory. The President of the United States of America thumbs the pages slowly, moving from reverie to reverie, learning why one envies the octopus for its ink, how a man's skin becomes the final page.

He is talking about the president and what he does and how he does it. He also talks about the mistakes he has made and the good things he has done.

Something about a truck in a farmer's field A no trespass sign, you got time to kill Nobody's gonna get hurt, so what's the big deal Something about a truck in a farmer's field

Something about beer sitting on ice After a long hard day makes it taste just right On that dropped tailgate on a summer night Something about beer sitting on ice

Something about a girl in a red sundress With an ice cold beer pressed against her lips In that farmer's field, will make a boy a mess Something about a girl in a red sundress

Something about a kiss that's gonna lead to more On that dropped tailgate, back behind the corn The most natural thing, you've ever felt before Something about a kiss that's gonna lead to more

Something about a truck in a field And a girl in a red sundress with an ice cold beer to her lips Begging for another kiss Something about you and me and the birds and the bees And Lord have mercy it's a beautiful thing Ain't nothing about it luck, something about a truck

Something about a creek around 2 am After a few of those beers you wanna dive on in You don't need no clothes, just hang em on a limb Something about a creek around 2 am

Something about a truck in a field And a girl in a red sundress with an ice cold beer to her lips Begging for another kiss Something about you and me and the birds and the bees And Lord have mercy it's a beautiful thing Ain't nothing about it luck, something about a truck Ain't nothing about it luck, something about a truck

its about his life and what is in it and how much he loves it .he is living the good life as you taawould say. a poetic device would be imagery because they talk about the truck and fields and put them in detail.

Tall people By, Devin Baker

I am Devin Baker I am very tall I wonder why I am so __tall__ I see short people Rhyme I hear nothing at __all__ I want to be short

I am Devin Baker I say dumb things I pretend that I am a fish __I feel on top of the world__ Metaphor I worry about death __I am tall like a tree__ Simile