The Night Will Soon Be Lost

THE NIGHT WILL SOON BE LOST

The night will soon be lost
Another night of so many already gone
Who knows how many left?
I have seen far more nights
Than I will ever see again
Mostly it’s done
I have some nights left
But not so many
That I should waste it wholly
On frivolity
I’ll try now
To write a poem down
So this night
Will not have been wholly in vain
But who knows
Vanity of vanity of vanity
Perhaps for all nights and all poems- vanity
I am writing this poem down nonetheless
It flows as if it knows it has real life within it
I don’t know now how long this night will last
Or how many nights I have left
I have written a poem
Will G-d save it as if it were not vanity to vanity?
I do not know.

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What Will I Do Today And What Will I Do Tomorrow?

What will I do today and what will I do tomorrow
And what will I do for the rest of my life?
Write and write and write
Until I can no longer write –

And even if this writing is never known?
And even if this writing is wholly lost?
And even if this writing is not really worth very much?
And even if it is known only a little?
And even if others are highly critical of it?
And even if it seems vanity of vanity and only vanity?

Write and write and write
To the end of my life.

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Vanity Kills

Have you heard the latest? (you love you)
Have you seen who just walked in (vain vain vain vain)
(uh huh, you love you) right over there
Shes so vain vain vain vain
Vain vain vain vain
Im glad youve found someone who loves you
But sad to say that someone is you
And now perhaps youll both be happy
Guess that makes two just you and you
Someone who cares so much about you
But does that someone have to be you
Bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom yeah
Bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom yeah
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, it kills
So glad I found you glancing in the mirror
Gazing deeply at loves patron saint
Admire the frame, survey the scenery
Or are you just inspecting the paint
Temptations strong modestys so weak
High on yourself humble you aint
Bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom yeah
Bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom yeah
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills (no way)
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, it kills
So vain, vain vain vain
You love you (yeah)
Give it, give it us, give it us
So vain, so vain, so vain
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, if the blast dont get you
Then the fallout will
You love you

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A Poem Should Be A Blessing

A POEM SHOULD BE A BLESSING

A Poem should be a blessing,
And not center on sin and lust.
A Poem should bring happiness to others
And not deal with my own forgiveness.
A Poem should be better than I am now.
A Poem should be many things
Which I cannot do.
A Poem should serve You.
But what can I do
Does this Poem serve You?
Or is it merely more vanity of vanity of vanities?

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Oh Vanity

Oh vanity oh vanity
You only like to read
About beauty

Little about pain
Or hateful disdain
Am I so vain

Am I so shallow
To refuse a
Dark place to go

I'll lend a hand
To those in need
I'll give my love

While looking up
Is this not positivity
Not vanity

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Have pride and vanity

Service and sacrifice can be the base
For your pride and not your caste or creed.
Have pride that you have helped someone rise
And not that you have conquered someone.
Pride is that one feels about oneself high.

Show vanity for your simplicity;
Show not vanity for your affluence.
Show vanity for your affinity;
Show not vanity for your elegance.
Vanity is that one shows oneself high.
11.07.208

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The Complaints Return Upon Themselves

THE COMPLAINTS RETURN UPON THEMSELVES

The complaints return upon themselves
There is only old age under the sun.
Vanity of vanity of vanities
I am the greatest vanity of all.

Even the morning light
That usually wakes my soul
Cannot break the dim foreboding
Of Hell on the horizon.

I will die
I will go down
I know.

But my People
This Land
Will You Save us?

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Is There A Poem For Me Today?

IS THERE A POEM FOR ME TODAY?

Is there a poem for me today?
Is there in this vast universe
One poem for me?
Will G-d who has given me
so many poems
give me a poem today?

I try to write
across this page
I try to say
I have been given a poem today.

I do not know
The lines here now say:

“You in vain and in vanity write
lonely to hear your own name.”

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Where Does A Poem Begin?

WHAT DOES A POEM MEAN?

Where does a poem begin
And where does a life end
And what does it all mean?

The life the poem who and what we are
The stars will go on until they burn out and die in a time we will never see
The earth itself will go until it dies in the heat given by a dying sun.

All things lovely and beautiful
Grass and trees and lilacs and cities of love and people who care for each other
All good and great things-

Greater poems by far than this will forever not be
And music that makes the heart and mind more sublime.

All is vanity of vanity says the preacher.
Though not because it all returns to what it was
And repeats without end what it will continue to be
But because once and only once
Even our Universe will die.

Oh time oh life oh love oh peace
Oh words that try to mean
And cannot stay more than our own small instant of hearing and fearing
Death is our name
Death death death.

God forgive me
Only You can save us.

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If I Could Only Bear My Own Silence

IF I COULD ONLY BEAR MY OWN SILENCE

If I could only bear my own silence
If I could only be quiet and still
If I could only let the world say itself
Without my commentary,

If I could only be wise enough
To know all my words
‘Vanity of vanity of vanity.
’
Oh again and again and again
As now
I must say that I am -

But in this world of billions now
And billions more before
And billions more after
Why me?
Why my name?

‘Vanity of vanities’
All aloud again.

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Nothing so soothes our vanity as a display of greater vanity in others; it make us vain, in fact, of our modesty.

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There Is A Poem No Morning Can Right

There is a poem no morning can right
It is the poem of the night
It is a dark poem and a deep poem
A poem of unrest and unquiet
It does not know its own name
And redefines itself through indecipherable disturbing dreams-

The poem of the night
Is not the poem I want to write-
But some nights it writes me without my asking for it-
And when the morning comes
I invariably rush to something else
So it may be erased.

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Take Vanity Away

Oh take vanity away from me.
Make pure only my heart.
For vanity takes away from me
the most important part.
Let him that sees me, see past my form
and concentrate on my soul.
For that is of my body
is never the starring role.
What lies within the strength of my mind
is what should be possessed,
not the image I show to you,
not the way I'm dressed.
For outward appearance cannot compare
to the inner beauty inside.
Please let vanity be cast away
and take away my pride.

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Night of Nights

‘Twas deep; so deep of night,
When I saw what I had seen -
So truly deep of night,
When I went where I had been,
And really deep of night,
When I heard what I had heard:
Perhaps a fox or badger,
Or a sort of night-time bird.

‘Twas late that night of nights,
When something there was there -
So very late that night of nights,
Where that thing was where -
'Twas deep of night of nights,
When it ran to where it ran:
Perhaps a stoat or Billy goat,
Or ghostly little man.

‘Twas in the night of night of nights,
When something scary caused a scare -
So late of night of night of nights,
When something hairy raised my hair -
The deep of night of night of nights…
So don't you wonder what it was?
Well I never really truly saw it -
Why? Because because!

‘Twas in the night of night of night of nights
Oh I've had enough!
Night night.


Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009



Night night, night night
Night night, night night
Night night
night

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To Not Know What One Is And Should Be

TO NOT KNOW WHAT ONE IS AND SHOULD BE

To not know what one is and should be
Is ridiculous at the age of seventy-

To play games with one's own identity
Is a sport for those much younger-

Nonetheless I in my endless I-I-I ing
Play on,
Less serving You
Than I once dreamed,
And still obsessed as I was supposed to learn not to be
By my own name

Vanity of vanity says the preacher
And I in my case
In spades.

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I Strive Against The Silence Of The Night

I STRIVE AGAINST THE SILENCE OF THE NIGHT

I strive against the silence of the night
Against my own inner emptiness
I wait to hear some song from inside myself -
Nothing is written.

I go back to where I am
And begin again.

There is always a poem if one is patient enough.

But what poem?
And for what special meaning of this night?

I write again and again
A poem which is about writing a poem
And when I come to end it
I question again and again
Whether it is real.

This night is already deep in darkness
And yet I have almost broken its silence

One more line
One more writing about writing a poem -

Perhaps Memory will come back to me
And I will write a more real poem
Than this strained effort now.

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What is called generosity is usually only the vanity of giving; we enjoy the vanity more than the thing given.

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Jane Austen

Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity, to what we would have others think of us.

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Henri Bergson

The only cure for vanity is laughter, and the only fault that is laughable is vanity.

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Ludwig Wittgenstein

It seems to me that, in every culture, I come across a chapter headed ""Wisdom."" And then I know exactly what is going to follow: ""Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.""

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Gustave Flaubert

I have come to have the firm conviction that vanity is the basis of everything, and finally that what one calls conscience is only inner vanity.

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