MY RICHES Behold in me one richer than a king, Richer than Croesus was or Solomon, Aye, richer even than a Rockefeller. And lo! the gilded portals of my palace Are thrown wide open, and the spacious vaults, Staked full of treasures even to o'erflowing Remain unguarded, and I welcome thee To enter and partake of all my riches. My palace is my heart; my wealth, my treasure Is love, immeasurable, boundless love. DEPRIVATION The world is like a tapestry to me, Immense and wonderful, where interwoven With art most consummate by masterhand I see a maze of beings and of things. I can but see a little at a time, My sight is limited, the view is vast, The picture disconcertingly complex. But often, here and there, a brilliant spot, A woman's figure in life's tapestry Attracts my gaze and holds me in its spell. And, like a child that's crying for the moon, My hands would grasp that which delights mine eye, To press it fondly to my happy heart. Alas, the world, as tapestry and tomb, Will not give up its own. A SPHINX I like to see a woman wearing furs, Long-haired and dark and vicious looking furs, Strong smelling, soft, exotic looking furs, Contrasting strongly with her brilliant flesh, Her tender, warm and angel-tinted flesh. I love the angel and the beast in women. That's why I like a woman wearing furs. EXCUSE ME, MUSE 'Tis not the hour to sing of pink-hued vapors So softly sailing under azure skies; Nor of the shadow warm and so mysterious Cast by the lashes of a woman's eyes. 'Tis not the time for soft euphonious sighing And holding converse with pale lunar light. 'Tis not the hour for musing and for dreaming, Excuse me, Muse, I must go out and fight. And I will fight as long as infants suckle In vain at parched breasts devoid of milk; As long as my poor sisters sell their bodies For bread and rags, while parasites wear silk. As long as slave and master, thief and pauper Remain such terms as may to man apply, So long, I say, my lyre shall be a weapon, My song shall be the rebel's battle cry. NOEL Tormented Galilean who art Lord Of those that crucify thee every day And every hour and minute of the day And every hour and minute of the night: With pious glee they celebrate the night That witnessed thine appearance upon earth, That night when angels chanted "peace on earth." They chanted "Peace on earth, good will to men," And thou wert crowned with thorns by hands of men And thou wert spat upon by mouths of men And thou hast been betrayed by kiss of men; Condemned by men and crucified by men, Aye, crucified and deified by men.