I saw this once,
in Philosopher's Stone,
that the wand picks the wizard,
not the other way around

I realized today,
at the bookstore in town,
that the book picks the reader,
not the other way around

You sit politely on the shelf,
tempting, teasing.

You haven't changed in the years.
Physically, at least. But I know
you've grown bitter, behind that
facade.

One day, I think, I'll take you down.
Finish you in a day, come back in a year.

I remember where we met. That
shop, the covered market.
Knew you were the one. The promise
of romance, a cunning plan...

I returned home giddy, keen to begin.
But a new job forced a delay; then a girlfriend, depression, apathy.

I took you down once. Made a start but never finished.
So I put you back, guilty of that literary crime.

So many books, so little time.

The object of meditation is to attain a why-less insightful personality.
Like everything is "its own cause".
Life has become disenchanting by the common awareness of my real familiarity with it.
My thinking of "what is the need of this or that" is truly a mark of low intelligence, or a common sign of age.

Sitting at my desk, is a cup of coffee.
A sip to burn my tongue,
I feel at ease with warmth.
No longer do I ponder of truth
nor hearing any owl hoot,
the street that is an isle
is now not so wild.

Read, learn
When you don’t read
When you don’t think
about what you read
You will always be
like a bird in a cage
Waitng to be freed
Read , set yourself free.
Let no one control you.

Shell ✨🐚

She drinks beer and farts like a sailor.
She cusses like someone with Tourette's.
She complains constantly,
like it gets her high. She's never read a book,
and the look on her face when I
bring up Hemingway, Bukowski, or Gogol
is something to see.
She doesn't have the faintest clue what
fidelity means. Yet, with all of
her shortcomings, I've never met a woman that
could **** like her. It's magical; sometimes
I think she put a spell on me;
our ****** chemistry is mythological. She rides me like
I'm the wild frontier. She makes the cutest
face when she comes.
Sometimes, I wonder if Papa, Buk, or Nicolai
had it this good?
Besides, who doesn't like drinking beer and farting?
And after a glorious night with her,
I'm pretty sure that reading is overrated.