Objective and Subjective decided to hang out together at the park one day, to get to know each other and to try to become friends. Soaking up the views, and watching the people go by, they just sat and relaxed on a park bench.

Subjective broke the ice, first, and said to Objective:

It is getting a bit nippy outside isn't it? I forgot to bring my sweater with me.

Objective replied:

The daytime high will reach 67 degrees with a NW winds of 12 mph. Humidity is 68%. The weather is forcasted today for a 20% chance of rain, but it is not due until evening.

Subjective replied:

Yes, that is good to know...I guess. Now I know why I am cold. Hey, look over there on the right! Check out those roses! Boy oh boy! Did they ever come up colorful this year! I am getting a good whiff of them right now. Don't they smell like heaven?

Objective replied:  

I have never been to heaven, so I can not give you an accurate report. Roses, though, come from a thorn bearing shrub that typically produce fragrant flowers of various colors. Roses are native to north temperate regions. They are widely cultivated for unpractical reasons such as objects of adornment.

Subjective gave Objective a good sidelong glance like, Are you for real? There was a long period of silence as both appeared awkward in each other's company.

Subjective finally broke the silence and said:

The birds are really chirping up a storm today! Oh, I don't mind at all! They sure tweet nice and sweet! But these pigeons I can do without! I don't want them around me! You know what they say, don't you? Pigeons are just rats with wings!

Objective replied:

Actually, rainstorms are not caused by chirping of birds. Rain is produced when water is condensed into clouds from the water evaporation of oceans, lakes and rivers when the heat of the sun activates the process.  Furthermore, there is no such thing as a flying rodent. Even flying squirrels don't actually fly. Birds and rodents are two separate species that cannot produce offspring. Therefore, a rat with wings would be impossible.

Subjective was now beginning to get red in the face. Maybe this was a bad idea hanging out with Objective, after all. Could he really learn to understand him by getting to know him?

Both Objective and Subjective's attention was soon diverted by a tall, slender woman with blonde hair walking by. She now became the center of their focus. Wearing a form fitting blue dress, that came well above the knees, her shapely. long legs were quite appearant as she walked along in 5 inch, spiked heels.
  
Eagerly, Subjective whistled and said:

Wow! Would you get a look at her? What a knockout! Hey, Objective, I think you just saw heaven, after all!

Objective shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and replied:

Beauty is said to be in the eye of the beholder. Back in history, it was the full figured woman who was upheld as a virtue of beauty. Her size represented a desired lifestyle of affluence. For example, in the Classical period of art, as well as the Rennaissance and Baroque periods, it was the more voluptuous female that was often the subject of an artist's rendering.

Now Subjective was really ready to blow smoke through his ears, like his blood pressure was going to go through the roof.  No way could he take this for much longer!

He replied:  

That's it! I tried! I did! I really did! But you know what? You are the most annoying being on the planet!

Objective looked stunned at Subjective's outburst of anger. So Subjective continued on in his verbal lashing.

He yelled out:

Yeah, you, Objective! You just don't get it, do you? You really get on my nerves! I can't stand being around you! It is so infuriating!

Objective was at a loss for word. He attempted to utter a reply but could not.    

Subjective added:

I got to get out of here before you drive me crazy! What are you anyway? A walking encyclopedia? A walking dictionary? For the love of Pete, talk like you're normal!!!

As Subjective was ready to storm off Objective meekly replied:

Inanimate objects, such as encyclopedias and dictionaries, cannot realistically have body limbs, nor can they function as living organisms....unless, of course, they are presentated in imaginery situations, such as cartoon figures in cinema, television, comic strips, or storybooks. Also,  I must tell you that I personally don't know anyone named Pete.......

Furious, Subjective got up and stomped off, muttering complaints to himself all the way down the street, leaving Objective sitting on the park bench, by himself. There Objective remained, wondering what he did that was so wrong.



THE MORAL of my LAME story is..........................

OBJECTIVE AND SUBJECTIVE JUST DO NOT BELONG OR GO TOGETHER!!!

I know why Vincent Van Gogh Cut off his own ear

We are a mad bunch, you see
Poets and painters and playwrights
On the prowl for something to
jump start our perpetual yearnings,
our keen senses and cravings,
on the quest for so much more
than the status quo,
of merely checking off just another day
from our calendars

We are those kinds of people
Who wish to reinvent the world
Often cursing at our failings and insecurites
While obsessively working to shape and sculpt
our view of this planet
To fit our own brand of imagination
To satisfy our starving hopes
and desperate dreams
To foster vivid visions
from the views that are vague  
And to wipe away
The nightmares of old
that cry out in us

We believe in make-believe
We who are misfits to "normalcy"
We rarely seem to fit into
The "real world"
Yet we know that this world is
Pure insanity
Stark madness
Sheer perplexion
Yet we are the ones
suffering for the sake
of our art
Often misunderstood
Many times branded as "weirdos"

I can understand the pain
Of not getting my art right
Of not seeing its worth
Because someone sniffed at it
Or scoffed at it
Or blindly passed it by
Many times, we want to break through
And join the world of our works of art
But we can't
We're stuck in the middle of its beauty
And nothingness

Yes
I know why Vincent Van Gogh cut off his own ear

I am just a fragment
of the whole vision

I am a canvas, not fully painted
I am a story, not quite scribbled down
I am piece of music, yet to be ended
I am a sculpture, with carvings here and there
I am a song, not yet copyrighted
I am a stage production, assembling a cast

Yes, I am
Ready to come to life

Did you ever feel like you had
a ravenous wolf inside?
With a growling, empty stomach
that could not be satisfied?

Did you ever feel like you had
a wounded deer inside?
With a heart torn open,
apart a mile wide?

Did you ever feel like you had
a caged lion inside?
You couldn't unleash your anger
so was it tears that you cried?

Did you ever feel like you had
a lurking bear inside?
Your guts upside down in knots
but to the world you said, "I'm fine"?

Does the world ever feel like a zoo,
the bars containing you on the outside?
Can we smugly think we are lords of this earth
when restlessly struggles the beast inside?

The future is framed
in a painting titled, Unknown
It appears to me as
a scene in a winding road
that is shrouded in a thick veil,
a misty fog of doubt

What tomorrow holds for me,
I do not know
For I have yet to arrive there
Certainly, nothing comes easily in life
Nothing seems set in stone

I cannot accomplish the journey alone
Inspite of my stubborn insistence to try
Counting just on myself,
out of my own efforts,
And I surely encounter failure
I've learned there is nothing worse
than going it all alone

So one assurance of hope do I fiercely cling to
It is the only way that I can survive

Therefore, I place my mortal hand in His,
A that hand is always offered to me,
And I grab hold of it for dear life
As the Lord is perpetually near
A divne lantern
unto my feet

The pathway ahead is still dimly lit
Only a few steps can I see at a time
But it is meant to reveal
only just what I need
To get me along through,
to penetrate the darkness

For what is faith
If I need not trust?
What is faith
If I demand to know everything?

Fingers pointing
like you're a disgrace
You want to run
and hide your face

Have you ever
felt so shamed
that you wished
you had no name?

Many of you knew dysfunction
Many of you knew a house of pain
You may never have measured up
When all you felt was shame

You got it from all angles
This ugly thing of blame
Parents, teachers, bullying peers
This terrible thing called shame

You wanted to be anyone else
But you did not want to be you
For being in your own skin
Felt too wrong to be true

You're much older now
You're much wiser, too
But sometimes memories stab
And shame the core of you

Everyone has potential and value
Realize it not, and you continue in the same
Believing in the old lies about yourself
Don't settle for a life of shame

My eyes used to see faded colors
Everywhere I looked, I saw shades of grey
But now I got on my rose colored glasses
And everything is going to be Ok

Not!

To hell with a pair of rosy lenses!
I don't need to wear those pastel shades!
Who was it who said that life should be easy?
And that everyone should have it made?