Drink is for pleasure and sleep perhaps for joy.

And a thinking mind is peace though some would not say.

Sometimes a coward is the brave one.

Good things come to those who are lucky.

What lies behind us can be lies.

Memory can be tricky unfortunately.

Greatness is far away

Just a flood of magic came

Lilacs bloom

As street lamps illuminated

Thoughts of you

Things going to happen

Pink clouds

 Fog goes

I breath in the sweet vapors

Swings are moving in rhythm

Hardly average.

Oh Canada, Oh Canada!

Oh Canada, Oh Canada!

With James Joyce and Hemingway around 1935 literary coflicts were happening.

Wallace Stevens started throwing punches at Hemmingway at a party for example.

The Wasteland by Eliot was to make for a bleak vision of the future.

Yes world war two was amazingly destructive and horrifying and the flippers of the jazz age were gone.  Also sexual language in literature was widening since the  "genius" of Ulysses made it difficult to stop in court.

America was heading torwards the future in a rather dry academic way no doubt to impress the world.

Goat was looking hip

People told goat so

That he had a cute goate.

Time was ending

Once upon a time

There was no stopping it

Not even insanity would win

The clock does spin.

The flute does play

How dull

How dull

Goat jumped from rock to rock

His face was smiling

Goat was in love with happiness.

The waters were dancing

And danced right off the page

To choose a life that has some pain

Yet some people are lost for pain

And there blood has ice

Has icicles

And not a bit of frosting.