Sunday, May 8, 2011

The Poetry of Walt Whitman

From the Thoughts Cluster

Of persons arrived at high positions, ceremonies, wealth,
scholarships, and the like,
To me, all that those persons have arrived at, sinks away from them,
except as it results to their bodies and Souls,
So that often to me they appear gaunt and naked,
And often, to me, each one mocks the others, and mocks himself
or herself,
And of each one, the core of life, namely happiness, is full
of the rotten excrement of maggots,
And often, to me, those men and women pass unwittingly
the true realities of life, and go toward false realities,
And often, to me, they are alive after what custom has served them,
but nothing more,
And often, to me, they are sad, hasty, unwaked sonnambules,
walking the dusk.

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