Your face is map enough for me

Your face is map enough for me ,

Your gaze, your smile, your frown, your glee.

And if I want to know the rest

The shape your posture‘s made is best

For showing what your life is now.

A look,a gesture all this show.

Till who you are is then disclosed

And I am in your arms enrobed.

Love vanishes when analysed,

And thinking too

by  Love’s despised’

Choose the means to fit the end

And then I’ll  be what you  intend

Whitman and Democracy

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/articles/151134/filthy-presidentiad-walt-whitman-in-the-aocracyge-of-trump?utm_source=Poetry+Foundation&utm_campaign=9043ea8aed-POFO-NOV-15&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_ff7136981c-9043ea8aed-185545637&mc_cid=9043ea8aed&mc_eid=548544474a

 

EXTRACT

Walt Whitman is two hundred years old in 2019—and the bicentennial of democracy’s bard falls in the shadow of a demagogic presidency.

John Marsh, in his book In Walt We Trust: How a Queer Socialist Poet Can Save America from Itself, has this to say about the poet and democracy:

For Whitman, democracy is a way of being; in particular, it is a way of being with others … it has much more to do with how you approach your fellow men and women. Do you respect them? Do you acknowledge their dignity? Do you identify your interests with theirs? In short, do you love them?

Whitman expressed his vision of democracy as “a way of being with others” in #24 of “Song of Myself”:

Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son,
Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding,
No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from
     them,
No more modest than immodest.
Unscrew the locks from the doors!
Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!
Whoever degrades another degrades me,
And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.
In Spanish:
Walt Whitman, un cosmos, el hijo de Manhattan,
Turbulento, carnal, sensual, comedor, bebedor y procreador,
Ni sentimental, ni erguido por encima de los hombres y mujeres,
Ni alejado de ellos, ni modesto ni inmodesto.
¡Arrancad los cerrojos de las puertas!
¡Arrancad las puertas mismas de sus quicios!
Quien degrada a otro me degrada a mí,
Y todo lo que se dice o se hace vuelve al fin a mí.
A través de mi ser la inspiración divina se agita y se agita,
A través de mi ser el corriente y el índice.
Pronuncio la palabra pristina, hago el signo de la democracia.
¡Por Dios! Yo no aceptaré sino aquello cuyo duplicado acepten todo

     en las mismas condiciones.

My late one’s whisky bottle

I am being haunted by a bottle
It’s half full of whisky,which I hate
I thought your love would be a bit more subtle

You see  love as a  fraught battle
I ache to see  the next, who is my fate
I am being haunted by a bottle

Why you sent me whisky is a puzzle
I prefer a cup of tea with cake
I thought your love would be a bit more subtle

!I don’t like your kisses,wear a muzzle!
I am not the Lady in the Lake
I am being haunted by a bottle

We will never make a lovely couple
The atmosphere is poison when I bake
I thought your love would be a bit more subtle

I  feel so cold I’d like a fire and stake
My spelling is atrocious,oh, milk flake
I am being haunted by a bottle
I  enjoy love   only when it’s subtle