angelina jolie, shes so cute she reminds me of someone whom i met.

Ballad of the Scholar's Lament, ee cummings

When I have struggled through three hundred yearsof Roman history,
and hastened o'erSome French play-(though I have my private fears
Of flunking sorely when I take the floorIn class),
-when I have steeped my soul in gore
And Greek, and figured over half a reamWith Algebra,
which I do (not) adore,
How shall I manage to compose a theme?
It's well enough to talk of poor and peers,
And munch the golden apples' shiny core,
And lay a lot of heroes on their biers;-
While the great Alec, knocking down a score,
Takes out his handkerchief, boohoo-ing, "More!"-
But harshly I awaken from my dream,
To find a new,-er,-privilege,-in store:
How shall I manage to compose a theme?

After I've swallowed prophecies of seers,
And trailed Aeneas from the Trojan shore,
Learned how Achilles,
after many jeers,
On piggy Agamemnon got to sore,
And heard how Hercules, Esq.,
toreAround,
and swept and dusted with a stream,
There's one last duty,-l
et's not call it bore,-
How shall I manage to compose a theme?

Envoi
Of what avail is all my mighty lore?
I beat my breast,
I tear my hair,
I scream:"Behold, I have a Herculean chore.
How shall I manage to compose a theme?"
ee cummings

nb: this mosyly reminds me of when i stoop to write and im pouring out blank v verses. it helps me get on my feet, when i ponder what greats such as ththese also churn out the same yarns....

STILL I RISE, BY MAYA ANGELOU

Still I Rise

You may write me down in historyWith your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirtBut still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold minesDiggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surpriseThat I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shameI rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I riseI'm a black ocean,
leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I riseInto a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I riseBringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I riseI riseI rise.

Maya Angelou

note: this is a poem i so much cherish and thot i should share.