Donald Robert Perry Marquis (1878-1937)
Archy is a cockroach with the soul of a poet that types, this one is from his meeting a moth.
i was talking to a moth
the other evening
he was trying to break into
an electric light bulb
and fry himself on the wires
William Ernest Henley, 1849 – 1903.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
If you ask me how to shine in the science-fiction line as a pro of luster bright,
I say, practice up the lingo of the sciences, by jingo (never mind if not quite right).
I find myself driving a truck,
rural loco passageway – mind you,
between metal projectiles,
on blazing rubber.
Five fucking Seconds,