You who killed my brothers and all who take your side.
This be your last hour, let your strength be tried.
Now turn to face me upon this lifeless planet.
Drink the wine of my anger.
Kill me…if you can!
(Joey de Maio)
Poetry
Sonnet CXXX (William Shakespeare)
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound.
I grant I never saw a goddess go:
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.