one sonnet and various lines



O never say that I was false of heart

Though absence seemed my flame to qualify



Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediment. Love is not love which alters

Which alters when it alteration finds

Or bends with the remover to remove

O no, it is an ever-fixed mark

   That looks on  tempests and is never shaken

It is the star to every wand’ring bark

Whose worth’s unknown although his height be taken

Love’s not Time’s fool , though rosy lips and cheeks        Within his bending cycle’s compass comes

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks

But bears it out to the edge of doom

 If this be error and upon me proved

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

                                                       William Shakespeare

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Ozymandias – Poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveler from an ancient land

`Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.

And on the pedestal these words appear —

“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.’   SHELLEY


I met a woman from an ancient land

She  dusted off her clothes and then reclined;

“You look as if you’ve traveled far,” I said,

“Have a cold drink and then some peace of mind”

  •                                                                                  ME




Pleasure and action make the hours seem short



The stroke of death is like a lover’s pinch

Which hurts and is desired


Brevity is the soul of wit


Men’s vows are women’s traitors


The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief


“Touch me once more, she smiled and said to me:

“Touch once more my tits,” she said to the man,

“I’ll give you a pair of   acres.”

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are

Of imagination all compact


What’s done is done and cannot be undone


False face must hide what the false heart does know


In time we hate that which we often fear


The devil can cite scripture for his purpose

There is nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind

Women may fall when there’s no strength in men

Forgiven thieves may be strong time in time

False face must hide what the false heart does know

Though all his loves go rushing down the Rhine   (whoops!)

In time we hate what we always feared

At the Temple finding time out of time






    on a stormy night


I’m sitting here alone, a storm outside,

As flesh and bone all disappear to dust,

I think of  the unholy things I tried;

And wonder near the end now what will last.


I loved a woman who eluded me

Amid the dust, noise, frantic in the rain,

Around each corner of the Paris streets

I watched her disappearing by the Seine.


She’s not a lover of earthly climes,

This gorgeous apparition of my dreams;

My love of her exists now beyond time:

She’s what is true, while all the world just seems.

Through hours and weeks as sorrows come again,

Unknowing Her I’d never lift a pen.

                                              (C)2016 by William Milne



“A hundred Keyboards you may play
Always, always, every day,
But I say, a bird sounds good,
That sings in the untouched wood!”

from a poem by Mari Muthu




William Milne's profile photoMari Muthu's profile photo

William Milne

Sep 23, 2016

Great stuff! Good going…. perhaps an edit.


 2015-12-22 01.38.15 (2).jpg NIGHTSCAPE AT THE CLIFF

Our loves, desires, thoughts of who we could be,

Thoughts of the muddy earth all turning red;

Dreams of a silver moon as full as spring,

All this shining path is lost by grasping.

Sounds of the trees at night in the forest,

The whisper of the pines when no wind stirs;

Bird songs before the dawn in this magic hour,

 A voice comes in the dark and calls you home.

Youth is born and bright and celebrates you

With sunlight dancing on the ocean, too,

Splendour in the grass, the completion hour,

Kneel with open arms in the morning dew.

Once it was that life moved beneath my hand

And I could breath the starshine as evening came,

The twilight  air is everything I need;       

Amidst this cosmic dance I call your name.

                                                       (C)2016 by William Milne
                                        3:00 A.M. September in North Bay





I passed through a mystical experience
at 4:30 A.M. today… and it carried me a step towards my goal of unifying the split
in the psyche between the spirit and the flesh.
       Make no mistake, the spiritual and the
erotic both partake of the infinite atoms
and energies of the same universe. There
is nothing, not even E.S.P., not even union
with God, nothing that is not corporeal.
       Atoms and energies take part in both experiences, in fact in all events that happen
through the medium of the human brain…

       So why do we revere the spiritual
and denigrate the physical? (Same old
question on this site.)

        I had a transcendent experience
this morning. I felt Aphrodite smile
within me. I felt Her smile with mercy
within my heart…I felt Her tender
         What had I been doing before
this? I had been obsessing with
sexual desire focusing on psychological
fetish. I had been focusing for hours
on various aspects of the beauty
of women, the beauty of womanhood,
feeling passion and devotion.
         It was then I felt the transcendent
presence of Aphrodite within me.

         The sense I got was that the energies
of the Father God, God of Abraham, God  who
opens the clouds,Lord of the meeting rivers;
the God of Christ and the prophets…that the chaste communion with the one who is creating us
could meld and merge into the love of Aphrodite – that the two divinities
were one in the same, especially
through the prism and the
mirror of FORGIVENESS.

            I felt this. I sensed this: that the
two energies partake of one divinity –
that He and She are of the Same.
            “I am he who is of the Same.”
Christ said this in the Gospel of Thomas.
And Christ forgave Mary Magdalene.
She was His beloved companion, so much
so that some of the other disciples were
jealous that He  spent so much time
 with her.  (see The Gospel of Philip)

           Mystical experiences are not
experiences that can be explained 
           I attempted to express
the feeling I had in the presence of
Aphrodite with the following poem.
I’m pretty sure the poem needs more
 work, more detail. But so far,
this is the attempt. 




I believe in spiritual love        

               the love of the one         

              whom we keep                      


                     denying the existence


                    of the one  we 




             I believe in sexual love

             the cruelties and the

              mercy of the Goddess



             I am not sure which is higher


              or sexual love

              and I don’t care which

              is higher


              She has taken

              every part of me

                my sex and

                 soul and heart


                 I have given you

                  all my songs


                  I am left standing

                   on the shore of the beautiful

                   River Lethe

                    watching the shades

                      race past


                    chasing what?

                    the corruptible?

                    feeding on what’s left
                    of the flesh?


                    I have nothing more to say

                    about higher or

                     lower love…

                     there is divinity

                     at every turn


                    blindly in the dark

                     I feel my way

                     towards you


                    feeling towards

                    the inner glow 

                    of your embrace


                     moving blindly

                     feeling my way

                      in darkness

                       guided by the warmth

                      of Your smile

                       within me.









              rubies are hanging

              from the trees.


               TO KNOW ITSELF


                I don’t pretend to have all the answers
re: the unifying of sexual communion and spiritual communion.
               It’s an expression  T.S.Eliot recorded:

         Toward the end of our lives, if mercy is

shown to us,  we  begin to understand the meaning of forgiveness.

                                       (C) 2014 by W.G.Milne




I have built up quite a traffic jam of unfinished drafts. This is the first of a series of short articles, called



The Mechanics of Shame:

Yes, it`s a strange world…strange and mysterious.
And odd things happen, too.

      This is so basic and simple, that it`s hard
to understand. Nobody sees the obvious.
When we get too close to a subject, we get
blinded to what is going on.

       Despite being a necessary act, sex and discussing sex is still  kind of taboo…   BUT it is the centre of our existence,  centre of our bodies, too, and the tree at the centre of the garden.
         And it`s  “bad” if we talk about it too openly.
I`m amazed that after all we`ve been through, this is
still the case.
        Yet the PLEASURE INCENTIVE  is how Nature
organizes and directs the things we do.

       We feed ourselves because it feels good to eat….
the Pleasure Incentive runs almost every aspect of our

        Even single-celled organisms follow  pleasure
as they  hunt down food and devour it.
 it feels good to eat food and to have a full stomach.
         Necessary activities, like sex, would be a chore
if there was not pleasure involved
          We are engineered internally so as to do the
activities that ensure the survival of our  species.
         Eating and procreating – two activities that we feel
pleasure doing:  two activities essential to our survival.

         The basic question – is this: how can we
feel guilt for something that is at the core of
our being, something essential to the species,
an activity that nature gives us the
         Feeling guilty for having sex is
like feeling guilty for eating, or feeling shame
because you need to take another
        We might as well say,


        And we do apologize

But this, exactly, is the SCAM:

     “We`ll absolve you of your guilt, we`ll wipe
your slate and your soul clean. But you must 
pay us for forgiveness.”
       We`re supposed to pay for forgiveness
to exactly the same people who convinced us
sex is evil.
          An analogy is this: a person shoves a 
grenade up your ass . And now the same
person is making you pay to
get it out.
          Does this sound reasonable to you?

           It`s like the protection racket,
only worse.

          Since you`ll always have to have sex,
you`ll always have to pay to be cleansed.
         The clerics have had an unending source 
of income – from the beginning, the dawn of man.
          With this sort of cash rolling in, you can
build things. Basilicas can be built.
          Basilicas and bank accounts.

                                                                                    (C)2013 by William G. Milne

“PRAIRIE OYSTERS BY SURPRISE” by the Mad Poet of Rat River


NOTE:((NEEDS AN EDIT!  Over 18 only – this seems obscene……. But ob seen worse.))



Poncho & Lefty messed up this hotel

I’m here, room service will not hear me yet;

The Mob they thought I had a certain debt,

I  paddled down to  Mexicali hell.


Bus driver doesn’t need a map, he says

He just might tell  the truth if I relax;

I better take a sail to Ja-make-eo

Push a bus uphill  chock full of ho’s

(Note: This really happened

Returning from Savannah La Mar

Heading to Negril. They weren’t hos

They wuz just party girls)


A tongue in both your ears will wake you up

                               real quick

I got back on the bus and I found out

“Meet us tonight at the Soon Come disco,”

                                they said

“We’ll give you something else you won’t forget.”





I need some sour-sop juice & that’s no joke,

I must lie down, pass out before I poke;

While Jenna leans so sexy  by the door,

My balls they be conflicted to the core.


Captain Jack he sails south just as we wrote,

A full moon on the Grand Bank’s not like this;

Banana trees are sneaking cross my  yard

                                           right now

While Davey G’s best lady rubs  my nards.

(NOTE: “nards” – one of Paddy’s favorite





I don’t care so much, I got my hoodie

Her buttocks blossoming gives me a woody;

I didn’t fuck her gotta tell you to be true,

I relieved myself four times into the dew.

(Editor’s note: WHOOPS!)


Did I get some thanks, no not at all!

I felt real true blue pressure in my balls;

Maybe I’ll sail north to Montreal

A lady I know there will give me  all


With three mobsters after my appendage

I tend to watch all night, see who’s around

The prairie oysters they collect from

             unsuspecting men

Makes em giggle all night long while chewing them.


(Ed. NOTE:  No! Shoot the poet!)

I grew up in the circus with my daddy

Where hookers were gals and also men

And with the appetite of all them  prairie folk

 Hide out in your jockstrap with a 4:10!


                                           ((editor’s note: OUCH!!))



Hi Willie!

(This is god awful poetry!

That prick’s gonna have to pay me more

And bring me another bottle quick!

yours truly,   Editor 666)















Sometimes it’s so difficult to know
You think you’re doing one thing but you’re                                                wrong
You talk of love like it’s some kind of song
While it’s sneaking up behind you with a gong

Maybe I’ll just move to Buffalo
I’ll head due south now to avoid the snow
I drove into a drift beneath a tier
And then I found I thought of you all year…

Who’d a thunk it while giving you advice
I found my heart and soul beneath the ice
And then I find my feelings start to thaw
A change like this is really pretty awesome

Scary scary scary, that’s what it is
And here’s me thinking love’s about the jizz
With all this wisdom how can I be wrong?
This melody’s way deeper than a song.


W.G. Milne


(Never count it out, we just don’t know

Those feelings working out below)




With Marilyn beside me on the floor
I loved her with no idea where I’d been
And sirens all around me out the door
I thought some fuckhead went and turned me                                        in

Real peace it greeted me quite 3 by 3
And 18 kittens tumbled by my head
The Tsars of Russia also on my couch
Shakespeare put a finger to his mouth
Some bugger beat the tambour to the south

I held a meeting of the council the next day
“Why you fuckheads treating me this way”
Sweet sister cut off half my hair
Before I put a footsie on the stair

Now melodrama’s happening in the trees
And some fuckhead in the bushes’s name is   Jesus
And Geronimo is driving in my car
And Nurse Annie’s stripping on the bar

Fuckee, fuckee. fuckee, that’s my way
I got this real sharp car too fast now
                  for the roll
I had to head around to Mexico
And Charlie MacNacracker …has my ho

Now I know the Circus came to town
She’s the majorduomo, I’m the clown
While Paddy’s now a bird, no casket yet,
Aunt Edith fucked my daddy in the net

I didn’t really have to fall this far
I only have a bike, ain’t got no car
We blew the doors right off the storage room
Owner tried a kick at my balloons

Miranda has an ass that makes me think
AS I am  goatherd of the town
And all my hair she cut just blocks the sink
As fuckheads from the foundry walk around

It’s lucky I have liquor here with me
She turned off all the lights and the T.V.
Ivan he’s sleeping on the couch
I’m trying to be quiet, shut my mouth

Polonious knew just where we’d met
Shakespeare in the alley won’t  confess;
As Ruthie and her doggie got me wet
While sleeping on her couch, the best one yet

Adolpho has her mysteries to be sure
Saramanka’s real sneaky with the cards
Last night  she had 4 aces five more times
I had to beg some gold from a silver mine

It’s very clear to me I need a drink
Not been here long before I hafta think
Some kitties dancing riight now on my car
My booze-bag’s hidden smart beneath the floor

Nagasaki was a terrible event
My best pal Yama cut off Freddie’s head
The judges and the lawyers in a car
I sing the Marsaille*   good now from afar.

 *((pronounced MAR-SAY-EH))
                                  who knows what this means
W.G. Milne
September, 2016, Fraser St