/biz/ - Business & Finance

Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today, I wish, I wish he'd go away...

When I came home last night at three, The man was waiting there for me But when I looked around the hall, I couldn't see him there at all! Go away, go away, don't you come back any more! Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door...

Last night I saw upon the stair, A little man who wasn't there, He wasn't there again today Oh, how I wish he'd go away...

Smile. Smile Cranly’s smile.
First he tickled her
Then he fatted her
Then he passed the female catheter.
For he was a medical
Jolly old medi…
—I feel you would need one more for Hamlet.
Seven is dear to the mystic mind. The shining
seven W. B. calls them.
Glittereyed, his rufous skull close to his
greencapped desklamp sought the face,
bearded amid darkgreener shadow, an ollav,
holyeyed. He laughed low: a sizar’s laugh of
Trinity: unanswered.
Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood
Tears such as angels weep.
Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta.
He holds my follies hostage.

But leaving codhead’s mitre and the heron’s
plumes sinistrant to the server of servants and
rex of regums and making a bolder-dash for
lubberty of speech he asks not have you seen
a match being struck nor is this powder mine
but, letting punplays pass to ernest:
— Haps thee jaoneofergs?
— Nao.
— Haps thee mayjaunties?
— Naohao.
— Haps thee per causes nunsibellies?
— Naohaohao.
— Asky, asky, asky! Gau on! Micaco! Get! Ping
an ping nwan ping pwan pong.
And he did a get, their anayance, and slink his
hook away, aleguere come alaguerre, like a
chimista inchamisas, whom the harricana hurries
and hots foots, zingo, zango, segur.

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools, singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire, Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Open up and let MOTHER inside
BECOME REMADE
The mouth of joy
My flesh bends to HER will.

>>30135822
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?