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Chaos Sleeps

Procrastination in Action

Daryl Nash
26 January
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  • chaos_sleeps@livejournal.com
I would believe only in a god who could dance.

Labour is blossoming or dancing where
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul,
Nor beauty born out of its own despair,
Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.
O chestnut tree, great rooted blossomer,
Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?

W.B.Yeats, "Among School Children"

The world won't end in darkness, it'll end in family fun,
with Coca-cola clouds behind a Big Mac sun.

The Beautiful South, "One God"

I don't really miss God, but I sure miss Santa Claus.
Hole, "Gutless"