boy, you will think smoking makes a pearl in your gut. there will be three doctors like writing shacks constructed from memory. to each you will deny the existence of a one-way baseball. prognosis is a curse. when you are curled by infancy I will toss objects through a tire swing. by the way I am your father no one likes. pain is not the last room the world has. to be fair, pain is the last room
with a toothbrush. knowledge is a sick woman. she takes out her breast in a snowstorm.
vienna waited for me.
i stood on my father’s feet
and put my tiny hands
in his large ones
as we danced around the livingroom
to billy joel.
i learned to read at two;
while young, my father taught me
how to gently set a record on the turntable,
move the arm, set the needle down
and i read the lyrics, memorizing:
war child, dark side of the moon, sports.
we made our fingers walk on a thin line;
we made our faces angry with grins.
he, via ian anderson, showed me
how to carry a sword and take a stand,
told me to be who i really want to be
and taught me what to do
when i join the good ship earth.
older yet, we sang duets,
his deep “by the hand, hand, take me by the hand”
to my “i wanna hear some funky dixieland—”
his “no sugar tonight”
to my “new mother nature.”
now, at fifty-six and twenty-five,
we sing about shiny teeth and having
nothin’ but a good time.
we teach the midwest
not to mess with a son of a bitch.
polka dot pillows in your place
a chair without a frame, bound in frazzled black thread
a sad staple or two on the upper legs
holding together what little there is left
filthy pillows smelling of rancid feet
weeks without showers
podiatry pads littered with cluster warts
and tv dinners
patchwork quilts with no meaning behind their fading pictures
knobs hanging leisurely on the cabinetry
buttons coated in bacteria on the ages old tv
rocking loveseat soothes no one
not even the infancy in me
the disorganized half ass efforts
to write a paper on things i once found interesting
wearing tattered sweatshirt
of a friend i once "wronged"
her fiance forced a slutty facade, some would call rape
bulging black sweatpants from walmart for asinine comfort
worn out sweater socks for the sad circulation flowing awkwardly to my inconsequential toes
vs bra, dd, "sex appeal"
i don't want to fix my hair
or put on euphoria
i don't want to do my makeup like a cat
winged licks to the edges of my eyes
i don't care if my teeth are clean or white or cut
i don't even care that you're not here
or that i'll never let you be
i don't even care that you're sharing your bed and your head and your heart with some
take a few more anti-depressants
a few more to leave around me as i sleep
so my nightmares will be surrounded by numbness
my little hypothalamus knowing they mean nothing
as does the world to me, now
freedom is a double edged, dull knife
poke and poke until the wound festers and i bleed out
to the sound of my own feet fucking dust and losing balance
i don't care that i'm still alive
it's really all such a waste of goddamn time
I wish I could meet and talk with you,
To see your faces, to see your children,
To drink with you, have coffee or wine.
What is your story? Where were you born?
What is your star? What is your compass?
I'd like to see your bedroom, your favorite book.
Do you have a favorite shirt? Where have you traveled?
What are your secret fears, your gnawing fears?
Would you rather be elsewhere? I'd like to see
Your face when you're near your mother, your father,
Your wife, your husband, your devoted dog,
Your gestures, the glint in your eye, your smile.
It would be nice to see you with a coffee cup
When a lake or the grass or a tree is waking,
Or when a car is clearing its throat on a winter morning,
Or when a few birds dart past your window,
Or when the first snowfall of the year comes
And children are up to their usual mischief.
Does something pierce your heart? What happened, my friend?
Is that why I woke up sad this morning?
It's just that you and I will die someday...
It's just that I cannot survive without you:
You made my shoes somewhere far away;
It took your knowledge, your effort, your time;
You designed my apartment, my building, the room
Is warm, the window shields me from the elements,
The shower works, the toilet works because of you.
You wove my shirts or you built the machines that weave;
I know nothing of electricity, yet there it is;
I know nothing of computer mechanics, yet the computer
Works beautifully, smoothly, and you fix them too;
I cook, but I don't grow my food, it comes from
You who packaged it, who grew it in a farm.
The apples are crisp and sweet thanks to you;
My body is comfortable and warm thanks to you;
The water is clear or nearly clear thanks to you;
I have a water purifying system thanks to you.
I learned some things, but millions of brains, your brains
Learned and learned, my friends, things I don't know.
It would have been damned hard to smell the roses,
It would have been damned hard to soak in birds' song,
The symphony of stars, my lover's eyes,
Without your effort, your discoveries, medicine.
In another century, I'd have died in infancy perhaps,
And varied experiences would not have smiled on me,
Would not have set on tables their bowls of fruit.
I would never have seen the Taj Mahal, the Eiffel Tower,
The beautiful souls I met in other countries,
Without you, the builders, the designers.
And you, mother, you decided to have me...
The dawn with its vast poetic speech,
The glassy lake with its articulate silence,
My lover now who comforts and cooks for me,
Who waters a flower I never knew I had
Before I met her, were made available to me
Because of your decision and your care.
You were especially careful in what you ate
When dawn and dusk were still concealed.
When I was out screaming in the crib,
How many peaceful nights were denied you?
Every few hours witnessed you
In my room, changing diapers, giving milk.
You sheltered me, bought clothing, and for a while
I was your world, your dawn, your night, you scarcely knew another,
And your love would not be overcome, sweet mother.
While I grew and grew inviting as many troubles
As a clear summer night does the stars,
You extricated me, you'd always come;
For all your anger, your love was not overcome.
For every shadow you may have cast
Where lines of irritating ants crawled like redundant arguments,
You shone ten beams or kindnesses,
You showed me God knows how many gardens.
For a few years the winters had claimed you,
You woke up to a twilight wind, bony fingers of bush
Scratching the kitchen window. You went to a job
You could scarcely tolerate, the place was far away,
And at the time I didn't know or care to know
Of your anxieties and dissatisfactions,
Though shuffling your cards as you did
In the wan light of the kitchen made me suspect...
I remember the evenings when you'd come
With your burden, yet your love was not overcome...
You did this when I thought I had problems,
When I was snubbed by a girl or dejected
By the fact a girl lived too far away,
Dejected because of some low test scores,
Because I thought the pimples drove the girls away.
You did it when I was convinced of my cleverness,
When I was convinced I understood the world
In a way that you and father hadn't.
How many meals of yours had I not savored,
The ingredients of which you bought?
How many times did I find clean shirts, underwear,
A clean room and thought it was my due,
While sometimes, to my friends, I criticized you?
Father, yours was a tougher kind of love...
It was a love in which doubt played a part.
You doubted my abilities, you doubted my strength.
You thought my mother's love was sending me to the grave.
Pillows and feathers couldn't teach me to be brave.
I was too self-enclosed, and you were right...
It may be you never supported my passion,
Yet each denial or doubt made me stronger,
Each harsh word, really, gave birth to a bird
That would skirt the bright blue with poetic speech.
I complained that you never understood.
Yet I never understood you, I just thought I did.
From a comfortable room I sifted through
Your stories, thinking stories make the man,
Thinking descriptions are reality,
As if the word "rose" is in fact the rose,
As if the word "dawn" can help one drink the dawn.
And what could I really know of grinding it out
In post World War Two Russia, shifting about?
You had supporters, but you were hurt too.
You got to know anxiety a little too well.
But I, being the conceited child, thought:
Aha! But I would have done otherwise!
Where comforts abound, a fanciful Otherwise
Gets bloated, ingratitude assuming a spider's eyes.
You - you took me traveling, I remember France
Most vividly: we descended the building's quiet stairs,
The lobby carpet conveying a musty smell,
Strangely endearing, and crossed where the light had fell
Like a geometric dream, walking out to the song of birds,
To leaping architecture and buzzing cars,
As though we may have been Adam's first words.
We took a taxi to Paris' heart,
To a street where bold awnings were, tinkling glasses,
Rippling words, waiters shuffling to and fro,
Where linear lawns dreamt manes of grasses,
And tourists were taking photos or on the go.
We had brunch, crossed a bridge: All was wonder...
The blue trance of sky served sun of elation,
Served sweetness, delicious disorientation,
As we walked, radiating the city's heart,
Toward the Louvre museum, royalty of art.
The spirits of gods congregated there.
The walls unfurled heavens of the ages,
The sufferings, visions of seers and sages,
And I nearly swooned in the rarefied air...
When we passed lawns dreaming manes of grasses,
Returned to the apartment for a while,
When I saw your nod and approving smile,
And you began preparing for your master classes,
Playing Bach slowly, sweetly on the violin,
My calling whispered to me from within...
Father, though much those few days had unfurled,
It didn't yet hit me, it didn't yet hit me
It was thanks to you I was shown a world...
What is this feeling? Is it embarrassment? Shame?
To think of my fellow beings who taught me languages,
To think of all the teachers I had who gave their time,
To think I was difficult and I scoffed,
To think I regarded affection and comfort as just my due,
To think how many unknown fellow beings
Nurtured me, enriched me, helped me to survive...
The sun is setting, and for a moment it stares...
A few petals swirled on a winding trail
With a creaking gate, are the thoughts of twilight...
How much have I given back? I have complained,
I have judged, but how much was given back?
What became of them.
They all died.
I did nothing wrong at all.
I missed the best of them.
Now I have the rest.
Let them slip from my grasp.
I need not apologise.
It's just the way times flies.
In the blink of an eye they vanished.
These creatures, so once reliant on me.
We set each other free!
My children are now adults.
Catapulted from infancy.
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
When you were born, people stared.
A kindergarten nightmare barely
lukewarm to the touch.
New and formidable and supple to the earth, you
fell out of your mother's cavities
and into a world that didn't ask for you.
Twenty years later from the jailcell of your own pocket
you find yourself rolling
your hands over
Rolling your hands over the skin that's grown
with you. Rolling your hands over the phone
you never use to call your parents.
You grew and watched from where childhood sat. From
where "want" meant "take", from where "lady" meant "tramp".
You walked like a dog with your pride between your legs
because you never understood that loneliness could be justified.
That your manhood didn't get qualified every time
you were questioned, had to
define your pride.
I tried to tell you that it's normal to be terrified, but you started making dates with
suicide, and you forgot to give me an alibi.
I told you it was okay to choose other people over the thick of your
own mind, but all you saw were her doe jane blue eyes
double over privately, whining
in the back of a cold room.
And the way those blue eyes avoided you
every day after your wandering hand tried it's hardest to find a home in her
as if she were screaming, "I hated it, but I didn't know how to say it."
That incident haunted you.
When your dad said "that's love, kid" you packed your bags and moved out.
That was the first time I was proud of you.
That was the first time I wanted to take you with me, but I always had better things to do.
We eventually lost track of something like adults lose track of happiness
and how they're supposed to use their imaginations
even in the most serious of situations.
It's a travesty to experience life without ever being able to synthesize, the phrase
"Yes, I see you."
Nobody breathes like that
when I'm steady.
Nobody waits like that to touch me.
It's a travesty to realize we'll never experience the
beginning of our lives
from our own two perfect eyes.
It's guesswork, the way we moved in infancy and the similar way we
must move now, like skin with faces, feeling blindly. Touching
things we don't understand because it feels so right, so define me
But we get too big for bald excuses and our thirst
outgrows our patience.
Excuses wane like
sheets wane, free.
We stop trusting strangers and start
replacing toys with bodies.
And how did you learn to walk?
Strictly, like a soldier
or did you eventually fall victim
to the clusterfuck?
Like a swarm of ants over a hillside, rolling. Gripping and grabbing at
opportunities with our teeth because nothing is infinite and our futures are reeling
towards us so rapidly we can't speak, cordially weak
We're pitching our bodies into the future like a suicide bomber
pitches his feet over his head because, Shit.
We might miss something good and
my parents are getting older. Whose fault is that?
When you told me there wasn't time to ask questions I asked,
"Jesus, kid. Who told you that?"
We said goodbye seven times. We only meant it once.
But I remember telling you
I dare you to miss a chance when you have an opportunity to steal it.
I dare you to walk away from an exam and with your fists in the air.
I dare you stand up to judgement day.
I dare you to call your fucking parents.
I dare you to re-live your childhood and
I dare you to forgive yourself for everything
you never understood.
There is intoxication in the fruition of laziness
and an intensely satisfying pain in being good and I'm sorry
I never loved you the way you always knew love could.
My nose began to bleed. Outer space was my calling since infancy. Never again shall I let my mother's daughter down. The cold bitch told me I was a friend then took my Burger King satisfries. All is alright. I took her to Sandals and pushed her in the stingray tank. Oh brutal memories. They sting with a pleasurable swoon. I hammered the nails into my deck with a pressure similar to that of my car tires. Hard. Tight. I whimper with a paper cut. Hand sanitizer heals the hurt. Also alcohol. Or playing darts with my cat. You're the psycho. Or is my ex boyfriend's half lover? He said leave, so I stayed.
I am born
She is young, too young.
She cries when she sees me.
Those are tears of regret.
She doesn't know how to hold me.
It doesn't come naturally, like everyone said.
A newborn and a 16 year old are not so different.
They both need to be taken care of.
But infancy is pleasant,
Because infancy is numb.
I am five.
Men come, then they leave.
Through with her, because they are through with me.
She cries when they're gone.
Those are tears of self-loathing.
It is hard to find a man when you have a child who needs a mother
They didn't tell her fathers were so rare
A five year old and a twenty-one year old are not so different.
They both get too attached.
I don't know that she's unhappy
I only know that she stopped smiling.
I am fourteen.
Mom and I wear the same clothes.
And we both wear too much makeup.
We cry when we're alone
Those are tears of loss.
It is hard to get older,
They didn't tell her that youth was so fleeting.
A fourteen year old and a 30 year old are not so different.
They both want to be twenty-one.
We look in the mirror,
And somehow neither of us are happy with what we see.
I am twenty-one.
I let men see me as I see me.
And they never stay for long.
I still cry when I'm alone.
Those are tears of helplessness.
Twenty-one is still not so different from five.
I still get too attached.
I still don't like what I see.
But infancy was pleasant,
Because infancy was numb.
Questions are never indiscreet, answers sometimes are.
~ Oscar Wilde
Lesson 1) We measure the progress of a relationship not the answers given but by the questions we ask
The question, "How do you want to be loved?" must be posed every day for the love to continue to grow and not become a heartless, mindless ritual of rote. My personal question is that I ask my mate every morning when she opens her eyes and every night when I kiss her good night, "Did I tell you how much I love you today?" When she answers, "Not yet," I then say, "Beyond words." Frame the question in words that are comfortable to you. Open and shut your eyes with it.
Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life.
~ Psalm 143:8
Lesson 2) We should love each other the way we should love God -- with a feeling of eternal gratitude.
Take nothing for granted - especially each other. Like God, sustain your love every second in a new act of creation. But the gratitude for yesterday's love should be eternal - a thread connecting the past with the forever present.
The biogenetic law or embryological parallelism, can be expressed as 'ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny' states that in developing from embryo to adult, animals go through stages resembling or representing successive stages in the evolution of their remote ancestors."
~ Ernst Haeckel
Lesson 3) Love recapitulates the stages of a living organism.
Love goes from dependent infancy, to adventurous childhood, to teenage turmoil, to mature adulthood -- which entails the entire repertoire of human emotion. Love gone awry leads to senility and death. Keep it on track and you have eternity.
Be strong, believe in freedom and in God, love yourself, understand your sexuality, have a sense of humor, masturbate, don't judge people by their religion, color or sexual habits, love life and your family.
Lesson 4) Love yourself with all your flaws then you can learn to love another deeply
You cannot love another unless you love yourself first. But, while you're prepping yourself for the greatest adventure, don't fall too in love with yourself. Narcissism can often lead to a solipsistic
self-absorption which only admits others as entertainment, not as agents of transformation.
When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.
~ Lao Tzu
Lesson 5) Love is transformative leading to your true nature, but you must embrace vulnerability to be transformed
To be transformed you must shed those pachydermal layers of character armor and become naked and vulnerable. Easier said than done. We've all been hurt at one point and we have an adaptive survival mechanism not to let ourselves becomes vulnerable enough to be hurt again. You must resist your own survival mechanisms to be loved.
I am coming to terms with the fact that loving someone requires a leap of faith, and that a soft landing is never guaranteed.
~ Sarah Dessen
Lesson 6) Loving another is the greatest leap of faith.
It is even greater than faith in a Benevolent God, despite ubiquitous evil and the death of loved ones. We cannot hedge with fully committed love. There is no back up, no safety net for true love. If you fall, your heart is broken. But if you don't fall, you've jumped that infinite gorge between God and Adam's finger and have tasted Divinity.
leap as a child leaps
reckless and unreckoned
for the calculated jump
is a fall in its hesitation
dream as a child dreams
long lashed in REM
hands tossed above their heads
for the open eyed sleepers
are too vigilant
of tricksters and schemers
their pillows soaked
and day fears
True love isn't Romeo and Juliet who died together. It's Grandma and Grandpa who grew old together.
Lesson 7) Love does not necessarily go from hard and wet to limp and sandpapery.
Sex never ends. To grow old with each other is accept the physiological changes of our aging partners and keep our prescriptions to Viagra and vaginal lubricants current. Hard and wet are better even if the walkers with green balls get in the way. Pump up the volume on the porn and play hide the shrivelled sausage in the badly wrapped taco.
Don't let yourself die without knowing the wonder of fucking with love.
~ Gabriel García Márquez
Lesson 8) Sex is not love, love is sex --- ah fuck it!
Is it fucking or loving?
Make no mistake
In loving you give,
in fucking you take.
But taking is just loving
With each other's permission
So give your loving consent
To fuck in every position.
In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.
- Khalil Gibran
Lesson 9) Silliness and laughter are the preservatives that keep a relationship from going stale.
Laughter is the tool that diffuse anger, resentment, jealousy, boredom, self-absorption, pettiness, sadness and stuff like that. When one partner loses their sense of humor, the relationship is guaranteed to be over within a year. Silliness is laughter applied as a salve. Sarcasm is laughter applied with a chisel.
Hallow the body as a temple to comeliness and sanctify the heart as a sacrifice to love; love recompenses the adorers.
~ Khalil Gibran
Lesson 10) Sanctify one another.
The Hebrew word for marriage is Kiddushin, which means to sanctify. Intimacy brings us to a higher level of holiness, bringing us closer to God. In Judaism, an intimacy that leads to the conception of new life actually brings down the shechina -- God's manifestation on earth. God is the third partner of a marriage, but only descends to earth when we do the nasty and become Creators ourselves.
“I didn't fall in love of course
it's never up to you
but she was walking back and forth
and i was passing through”
~ Leonard Cohen, Book of Longing
Lesson 11) First fall in love, then grow in love, then harvest in love.
The falling is the chemistry, the growing is the botany and the harvesting is the phenomenology of love. A couple in love is always planting seeds and nurturing them with tears and laughter. When their old they have this prickly bush in the garage they have no fucking idea what to do with. Really, they harvest a life well spent.
Lesson 12) Cherish everything -- even if you've paid retail.
If every nuance of experience and every soul and thing on earth you connect with is a gift from God, how much more so is your partner in crime, a personal gift from your Creator. Say, 'thank you God' and 'thank you my love' at every opportunity. Use you spare time to create the opportunities to give thanks.
What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction.”
~ Chuck Palahniuk
Lesson 13) I wanna', you' wanna', they wanna'. Fugedabot' wanna' -- you needa'.
You've got to get the basic Brooklyn grammar of love down pat before you compose sentences or issue a writ of habeas corpus. Wanna' ain't' practical. If I gotta' what I wanna', seventy virgins would be bouncing on my bed, if you know what I mean. But what I needa' is someone to love me for who 'I yam'. Wanna' encompasses the groin; needa' envelops the heart.
Mutually counting on each other, watching each other's backs, forcing each other to be brave.”
~ Suzanne Collins
Lesson 14) It's a jungle out there and lovers much watch each other's backs.
I don't understand it, but sometimes people are not nice. It may have something to do with their crack ho single moms who sold their sorry asses for five bucks a pop, their rollercoaster ride through equally abusive foster homes, juvie court, substance abuse, dealing, hard time, dealing again, getting caught again and helping the cops to catch the big fish in exchange for their guppy freedom. But it's not that, because I've seen equally not nice people come from good homes. What they have in common is they're smart and size you up with 'what can I get out of this person'. Watch each other's backs and ankles from these slithering snakes. Use them only for handbags and boots.
The beginning is the most important part of the work.
Lesson 15) Use an aardvark to return your love to the beginning
An aardvark is that first 'thing' which made you fall in love. That unexpected turn of a phrase, the effusive laughter that sent wine through your nose, their hands, whatever. When your lover pisses you off and your love goes out of kilter, meditate on your aardvark, breathe deeply, let it out and give your lover a big sloppy kiss. Then hit the fucker over the head with an aardvark.
Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive.
~ Dalai Lama
Lesson 16) Don't be selfish lovers; love each other with compassion.
That doesn't mean the love everything indiscriminately like a Buddhist hippie on acid. It means you're love should not be contained to the two of you all the time. Spread it around a bit. Help others help themselves, lend a hand, space on your floor to sleep, your half-eaten cinnamon churro, even a couple of bucks, expecting nothing in return. Don't be angry when they don't express gratitude. They never do. Volunteer together to a cause you feel passionate about. When your house is in order, devote 20% of your life to helping others. That will account for 80% of your happiness. Here's the key to happiness:
you die each day
you wake up
you die again
All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.
~ J.R.R. Tolkien
Lesson 17) Love exists in multiple dimensions of time - make room for all kinds of time.
a time to begin, the time of your life, in due time, eternal time, time well spent, waiting room time, phone time, it's about time, time will tell, I'll try anything one time, only time will tell, time to plant, time to reap, quality time, time to get our act together, time for kids, vacation time, personal time, time for healing, free time, time for truth, time for hope, time for elegance,
time for giving thanks, time for reassessment, time for a makeover, time for dissent, time for talk, you have time for everything but me, that's the third time I told you not to do that, time for action, time for a reality check, time for hate, time for a turnaround, that feels good take your time, time for a revolution, time for reckoning, break time, random time, time for atonement, java time, time for panic, time for teens, movie time, time for listening, a time to dance, a time to wake, time for tears, time for mentoring, joint-tax time, time for reflection, time for each other, time for tea, half-time, payback time, time for prayer, rhyme-time, time to diet, time to step up at the plate, exercise time, time to take a beating, time for forgiveness, time for praise, time for sanctity, time for family, time for giggling, time for breakfast in bed, I'm going to fucking kill you this time, time for a breast exam, time for prostate exam, time for a colonoscopy, time to grow up, time for compromise, leap time, time-out, mother-daughter time, father-son time, time to grin and bear it, time for friends, time for extremes, time for wisdom, stop wasting time, time to be silly, time for vigilance, time for Einstein, what's time got to do with it, time for music, once upon a time, for old time's sake, union time, prime time, work time, play time, mean time between breakdowns, grieving time, third time's a charm, quiet time, time to remove that small cancer on your nose, unstructured time, hard time, up-beat time, cosmological time, time to shut the fuck up, space-time, creative time, study time, too much time on your hands, exposure time, a wrinkle in time, quiz time, time and a half, aardvark time, game time, infant feeding time, no time to lose, sleepy time, time to dream, time to learn from our mistakes, a time to resurrect, a time to end...a time to begin
The worst thing you can do for love is deny it; so when you find that special someone, don't let anyone or anything to get in your way.
Lesson 18) A lover may deny anything to their lover but love.
Don't always give in to each other's bullshit. Overindulgence backfires and creates resentment. Honor reasonable requests and an occasional Siren's call from the Deathstar or Mount Doom for Ben & Jerry's at 3 A.M. Don't be anybody's shmateh (Yiddish for rag). Maintain your dignity by telling the overly impulsive lover party to back the fuck off. But, don't be afraid to lose your dignity once in a while. Take out their garbage, rinse out their soiled underwear, plunge their toilet full of crap, squeeze their zits, however humbling and unappetizing. But never deny you lover love because you're angry -- just cancel their credit cards and hide the remote.
It is not love that is blind, but jealousy.
~ Lawrence Durrell
Lesson 19) A little jealousy increases love, a lot, destroys it.
We're talking in both cases about unfounded jealousy. By jealousy I mean the vexing awareness that your lover is desired by others, which is good because it compels you to keep on your toes and maintain your looks. Too much jealousy is a nappy assed green-eyed monster with the munchies, bloated and all consuming, destroying everything it's ever built. A jealous mind is a self-encased universe with a ruthless system of logic that creates scenarios which absolutely confirm its suspicions of infidelity. These scenarios are bullshit. Thus, jealousy is a pre-emptive strike launched from your own poor self-esteem. On the other hand, if you have 3rd party, double blind, incontrovertible, photographic evidence that your lover cheated on you, cut his balls off while he sleeps or throw the bitch in the wood chipper.
Beryl Dov Lew's Primer of Love: The Secrets of Making Love Last (Part II, Lessons 20-33)
Beryl Dov Lew's Primer of Love: The Secrets of Making Love Last (Part III, Lessons 34-41)
Beryl Dov Lew's Primer of Love: The Secrets of Making Love Last (Part IV, Lessons 42-50)
Beryl Dov Lew's Primer of Love: The Secrets of Making Love Last (Part V, Lessons 51-59)
Beryl Dov Lew's Primer of Love: The Secrets of Making Love Last (Part VI, Lessons 60-69)
Beryl Dov Lew's Primer of Love: The Secrets of Making Love Last (Part VII, Lessons 70-79)
Beryl Dov Lew's Primer of Love: The Secrets of Making Love Last (Part VIII, Lessons 80-89)
A Poem by quinfinn
" what, if anything, is really out there? and...are we ready to meet? "
surrounded by emptiness
alone in the velvet night
enveloped by infinite darkness
pierced only by pinprick orbs, a universe away
feeling like a stranger
insignificant and hollow
a minuscule insect on a remote world
within a massive, seemingly lifeless galaxy
"is there anybody out there?"
if only i could meet a cosmic voyager
what would you be like?
surely your race is more advanced than mine
we are in our infancy
barbaric and naive
yet somewhat enlightened
i fear we would not receive you well
you see... we kill our own kind
we suffer from greed, violence and hatred
and what precious little good we do
is far surpassed by evil
i would love to welcome you, cosmic voyager
but i fear we would kill you
because we lack understanding and compassion
and we are ruled by fear
so... better to stay away for now...
maybe one day we'll be ready
© 2012 quinfinn