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"interferes" poems
The Chameleon is as beautiful as its surroundings So the surroundings affect the chameleon's beauty. Yet, if there is no beauty around, it'll be the chameleon who interferes with the surrounding, being now the "beautiful chameleon in a beautiful place"
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Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 9:24 AM UTC
Beauty and Chameleon
You laid yourself a path Of the best-laid plans Of a future set in stone But she interferes When she sheds her tears And she spends all her time Daydreaming If she could she would Run your train right off the tracks You’d be forced to shed your skin Never looking back She worships the moon With a ***** silver spoon It won’t answer her prayers So with her flowing blonde hair She spends her time Daydreaming But now she builds her shrine to you She does all that she can do Are you prepared to take her on And spend your days in the sun Daydreaming
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Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 11:48 AM UTC
Daydreaming
The Talmud Teaches... With respect to his son, a father is obligated to circumcise him, to redeem him [if he is a firstborn], to teach him Torah, to marry him off, and to teach him a craft...he is also obligated to teach him to swim...(Kiddushin 29a) **lay awake when the house is silent, doing maths furiously in the head, sleeping can be keeping while doing my calculus, knowing in advance a conclusion comes coined in only two colors, black or red the question simple, did I meet my obligations? and your read the passage for the umpteenth time, and the same thought interferes as always, should the order not be reversed, the first thing to be fulfilled,** teach them to swim **based on experience life arrives in sequential, repeating waves, purposed to drown the weak with no pretending that waters, salt or sweet matters, so first order is business ought be survival preparation and** teach them to swim **if they can swim, stay afloat, then they can then comprehend the glory of distinguishing right over wrong, get their priorities straight, that saving others, especially those you placed on the starting line of life, is the first principle and overplants anything else when you** teach them to swim **my eyes see the tally, why, they are red! could it be lack of sleep? I am smiling when I am lying, teach them to swim always first, but not enough, one must do it well, well, and even then, better,  as all else will, from the well, follow, when you** teach them to swim 3:10am ~~~
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Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 3:16 AM UTC
The Obligations of a Father
The Talmud Teaches... With respect to his son, a father is obligated to circumcise him, to redeem him [if he is a firstborn], to teach him Torah, to marry him off, and to teach him a craft...he is also obligated to teach him to swim...(Kiddushin 29a) **lay awake when the house is silent, doing maths furiously in the head, sleeping can be keeping while doing my calculus, knowing in advance a conclusion comes coined in only two colors, black or red the question simple, did I meet my obligations? and your read the passage for the umpteenth time, and the same thought interferes as always, should the order not be reversed, the first thing to be fulfilled,** teach them to swim **based on experience life arrives in sequential, repeating waves, purposed to drown the weak with no pretending that waters, salt or sweet matters, so first order is business ought be survival preparation and** teach them to swim **if they can swim, stay afloat, then they can then comprehend the glory of distinguishing right over wrong, get their priorities straight, that saving others, especially those you placed on the starting line of life, is the first principle and overplants anything else when you** teach them to swim **my eyes see the tally, why, they are red! could it be lack of sleep? I am smiling when I am lying, teach them to swim always first, but not enough, one must do it well, well, and even then, better,  as all else will, from the well, follow, when you** teach them to swim 3:10am ~~~
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33
Your heartbeat is like the soundtrack to my soul and everytime I hold you close I don't want to let you go in fear of forgetting the rhythm. But you have no idea. You make me feel so much. You make me crave every part of you, like an addiction I'm not quite ready to be cured of. And will I ever? It matters not at all to you. Interferes with your life in no way and you love it. I know you love that I can't move on because if I could, where would that leave us? You? Could you live with the knowledge I didn't love you anymore like I'm living with the knowledge you never did? I'd be your plus one forever. I'd be whatever you wanted me to be but the one thing I hate being is all that I am to you. A secret. And what is a secret but something you are ashamed of? I spend my life being second best and I'm forced to believe I deserve it. Maybe I do. But I'd evade every possible scenario that could make you feel like that. I'd make you feel like the most important person in the world. Because to me that's what you are. You're so special. I'd never hide you or lock you away. I'd show the world how lucky I am to have you if you were mine. And I'd make sure you felt the same.
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Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 6:34 PM UTC
Second Best
It is possible. To leap beyond where fear takes us. Surely so many things happen. By contrast We stand still. Wound up in total curiosity. To dream in wonderment. With each twirl we captivate the essence of someone else. A sort of inspiration that convinces us that we are more than what we believe. Beginning to walk, Our other functioning parts come to life. Embraced in true courage. Spun around and round. This huge metal behind it's back. Suddenly this obstacle isn't what it seems. First finding what is important. The touch of someone else Through encouragement. The wind-up doll begins to move No longer incapable by what we define as fear, But enormous faith. To place all of it's self in another Without fear of adding another chip to it's face. It waddles along. Moments later, Pride interferes. It's movements stop. To be spun up again and again Falling to the floor Seconds at a time
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Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 2:29 AM UTC
Wind-Up Doll
weary of mothers and friends losing their children, before their time, weary of failing to achieve reconciliation with whatever one nominates the force that regulates, fate, Name-Your-God, deity of your choice, nature, laws of physics, the "whatever" that controls, interferes, that you think to believe wills these event's occurrence non-randomly cessation of formalities, one sided truce signed and delivered, unafraid to call this what it is, **** and damning fate, for no god could be so cruel... If only there was a Dislike button for life and the poems wrenched from death at 5:00 am this thought is my sole inhabitant once again, nature's bosses distort, another friend's grief asks, cajoles me to betray my/thy belief banish it or me, for we both cannot be cohabitants under the one roof, of this limited mind, where flailing poems never good enough, failing to express my sorrowed rage
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Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
A Childless Mother (weary of mothers losing their children)
Naught but mockery. In the back of my mind, I've always recognised why Why all those nights, I fought sleep, Why all those days, Appetite didn't come. Didn't sleep again last night. And I rose from bed, reluctant as ever to return to a heart-torturing reality. The hot scalding shower, wasn't hot enough. And when it was, I closed my eyes, Calm reigning my soul. I walked the streets, Drizzle of rain splattering on my face, It was as though everything was fine, Yet everything wasn't. I felt everything wrong, But everything was right. I, I, I wanted to stand in the middle of that street, And await an incoming car. Nothing in me protested, Except for the mind, the god fearing mind. My heart was silent, eerily calm. I hailed a cab, got to school like everything was fine, But the emotions on my face probably couldn't lie. All bottled up, in a bright corner I sat, just wanting to let it all out. Yet again, The heart-torturing reality interferes. Figured, why I never was a fan.
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Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
Fearless
Two frowns wait for the other to speak: One long and melancholy, The other expectant, so fraught and weak. The boy looks to his dog as though to his lover: “I wish I could give you everything you wanted; Life only interferes.” His mate saunters on, lays low So he fears, in resignation, “What is it that keeps your devotion so clear?” She, silent, in anticipation “I do not know,” he responded. “But it is not here.” So the blank canvas continued to be: His mate continued sniffling unknowingly.
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
Partner
We interrupt the work of the gods, hasty and inexperienced beings of the moment. In the palaces of Eleusis and Phthia Demeter and Thetis start good works amid high flames and dense smoke. But always Metaneira rushes from the king's chambers, disheveled and scared, and always Peleus is fearful and interferes.
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2.8k
Interruption
When I was a kid all I wanted to do was smoke **** But nowadays its harder stuff that my body really needs In my teenage yeas smoking on a spliff It would seem to be a substantial lift Before long though my depression took hold Alcohol and cigarettes making me look old I fell into a bad crowd, moving drugs that were illicit My life moving so fast I probably could have missed it MDMA in my system and I felt so loved Ecstasy wasn't enough to see God above I experimented with psychedelics and I had a real ball But my habits got deeper, and my friends, I lost them all I turned to the streets to pay for my increasing routines But my job on the street interferes with my dreams So now I'm just a shadow of my former self A syringe smiles at me from the bottom shelf Sometimes I need a little bump just to get my mind right But often times a bump can turn into a wild night Sometimes I need to get level with some golden dope But too much of that **** and my life can lose all hope I often wonder if my life would be alright If I was never molested on that dreary night
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Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 5:16 AM UTC
Hannah's Story: White Girl Blues on the Corner Where She Pays Her Dues
Pain is a beautiful thing, isnt it? In pain we achieve a higher mind set of life, such as "I will never do that again". False, you will till you stop feeling pain. Remember that time you confused love, with a life lesson? Pain is power, it can create body builders and models. Pain ***** to feel for someone who doesnt feel the same way. Pain is loves opposite, not hate. Pain is that same deep hurt of emotional stress that interferes in everyday life, such as love. The after math of love, or even liking someone causes a pain that flows through you like boiling blood, nothing can take your mind off it.
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Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
Pain, is the opposite of love.
Morning sun splashes molten gold over ripe wheat fields, Spellbound,  stands a village lass, she feels like a dragon fly, fragile but mirthful, her spirit soaring high above the clouds, one of those uncommon moments in her life, when she felt something beyond words happening to her she doesn't know how she forgets her dreary life in which one day is just like any other. Demure village belle, in her bright colored patch-work dress, traditionally worn by women, in Northern Indian villages, bathed in sun, walks alone, through the winding village path, crossing fields. Her smile conceals the pain, the thorns on her path give, walks miles and miles in scorching tropical sun, to the common well to get the water filled in an earthen *** carried on her head. Her silver ankle bells, incessantly tell the tale of harassment and violence, cheating, bullying, all that, by ruffians, tricksters, con men and the like prowling, on the wayside.Her own family members are no less! **"It's all in a woman's life" she mumbles, curses fate- something she has not fully understood, is this why fate mostly interferes with the lives of women?**
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Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 2:50 PM UTC
Her Woes Are Countless
Heart of darkness transcend some light you confused the body and soul. Heart of darkness your youthful years were gracious and gleaming you loved with gregariousness. Heart of darkness blindsided by tainted love it saturated the body and soul Heart of darkness forgive and forget ratify a truce with love, Let love in. Heart of darkness bruises heal in time in love there is fear however, perfect love casts aside doubt. Heart of darkness sadness interferes with hope we were saved in this hope hope that is seen is not hope leaving only trust. Heart of darkess the essence of hope the secret to victorious living lies in seeing good in every situation that comes into our lives Heart of darkness Let love in....
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Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 6:43 PM UTC
Heart of Darkness
*is perfection.. owner to owner perfection is passed.. each owner nods to this idol with awestruck glee.. but perfection interferes and disrupts even poisoned once an intimate encounter.. forgotten in this and other tales is human waking shifting and reaching of shadow and spirit...*
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Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
The Red Violin
We don't have to like it but sometimes life gets in the way sneaks up and overtakes us interferes with our day We may not get the time we want because life gets in the way its just the way it is sometimes it's no biggie, its okay Perhaps one day there'll come a time when life cant get in the way because life is what we'll have together each and every day
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Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 6:31 PM UTC
Life gets in the way
Oh dear Lord, please don’t allow anything to obstruct our devotion or love to You but if something interferes help us to overcome it so as to Your love we can be true. In this world we are all beset at times by so many unwanted tribulations and woes that it seems as if they serve to lead us away from instead of towards You dispose. ________________________
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Mar 19, 2022
Mar 19, 2022 at 7:32 AM UTC
Quatrain #414 - Oh Dear Lord ......
Speak of the devil and see who appears in the mirrors Who knows better than you all your fears and what brings you to tears? The voice that escapes through clenched teeth, grinding like gears Is exactly the same as the voice saying the things nobody hears Most all of the verbal abuse does not funnel in through the ears It stays internal, verbal and mental commingle to create brutal elixirs Constructing, seemingly out of nothing, life altering barriers A senseless mugging in broad daylight and no one interferes Just like no one hears my prayers The real me almost disappears from years of hiding behind makeshift veneers Hanging on by a meer thread, I think the puppeteers have switched careers ©2024
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Jan 3, 2024
Jan 3, 2024 at 3:31 PM UTC
~•§•~ The Abuse No One Hears ~•§•~
A dis abled man doesn't do a good job because they are teasing You see disabled man just bludgers, and if any pretty young Lady starts working to help them, they play with their hair And quite often really annoys them, and it is not just because They are playing with their hair, no they don't know squat About how to get out there and actually work Well, they will work, but in small lots and also They will take days off to go to see parades And then look at all the workers, saying You stupid little ****** little fool You are trying too ****** hard to teach us how to work And you are making us laugh so hard Of course whether he would say that, no one knows Cause he is disabled, he doesn't really know any better He thinks he is being cool with us The best thing to do is have a lot of fun And not get in the bosses way, at any time Especially if the boss yells at them, or gets sick of them Instead of keeping around them like them like a bad smell Like the disabled man usually does, and let me tell you He can display signs of anger and it often interferes with Their work, and after that the disabled man Will crack himself laughing if anybody was getting yelled at by the boss Like he is in primary school, you know the way kids act when You get in trouble with the teacher The disabled man does work, but you know Often they show limitations and also they are too disabled To know why things happen, and I start to think, that The reason why liberals hate disabled people Is they can be angry little ***** When they ****** think they're right The dis abled man will work but they still will act Like a kid, when they are either told to clean up Or go over the job again, because they are trying to tease Yes, dis abled men have no work ethics, still like school atmosphere, and A disabled man doesn't do a good job because they are teasing Sent from my iPhone
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 3:59 PM UTC
A TALE ABOUT A DISABLED MAN'S STRESSES
A dis abled man doesn't do a good job because they are teasing You see disabled man just bludgers, and if any pretty young Lady starts working to help them, they play with their hair And quite often really annoys them, and it is not just because They are playing with their hair, no they don't know squat About how to get out there and actually work Well, they will work, but in small lots and also They will take days off to go to see parades And then look at all the workers, saying You stupid little ****** little fool You are trying too ****** hard to teach us how to work And you are making us laugh so hard Of course whether he would say that, no one knows Cause he is disabled, he doesn't really know any better He thinks he is being cool with us The best thing to do is have a lot of fun And not get in the bosses way, at any time Especially if the boss yells at them, or gets sick of them Instead of keeping around them like them like a bad smell Like the disabled man usually does, and let me tell you He can display signs of anger and it often interferes with Their work, and after that the disabled man Will crack himself laughing if anybody was getting yelled at by the boss Like he is in primary school, you know the way kids act when You get in trouble with the teacher The disabled man does work, but you know Often they show limitations and also they are too disabled To know why things happen, and I start to think, that The reason why liberals hate disabled people Is they can be angry little ***** When they ****** think they're right The dis abled man will work but they still will act Like a kid, when they are either told to clean up Or go over the job again, because they are trying to tease Yes, dis abled men have no work ethics, still like school atmosphere, and A disabled man doesn't do a good job because they are teasing Sent from my iPhone
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37
It takes 3 minutes for you to lose consciousness by lack of oxygen This is suffocating Your brain begins to fire neurons off into the maze of your body telling it secrets that will forever be held on its tongue Brain death occurs after 6 minutes This is the cessation of all brain function This is death by the deprivation of the air you need to go on However In any other circumstance where the heart is not deprived of oxygen it will keep beating for a period of time. this was me when you left I went brain dead My heart continues to beat of its' own accord the pacemaker is set to pump my blood but my lungs crept up and out of my throat this was my suffocation not by hanging, not by smothering It takes 5 minutes for brain cells to start dying at a slow dance of a pace This is asphyxiation Consciousness will be lost within 2 minutes like falling into a deep sleep, peaceful and then all at once Asphyxiation is the build up of a substance such as carbon dioxide in the body that interferes with the oxygenation of your organs This death is timely The car running in the garage or the bag slipped over a head This death takes 20 minutes our love was a metaphor of this, a slow dance into despair the outcome was the same either way but it seemed like you picked the method with the flip of a coin it was lengthy, it was beautiful, but it was also devastating.
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Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
Brain Cells in Love
Today I have to wonder about people once again some live to cause trouble while others live to win why is what your neighbor does any business of your own unless it interferes with property that you own I find life is hard enough without the extra strife of having people accusing you wasting a lot of time vindictive little weasels surely you will pay for all the trouble that you cause Karma works that way. we've been at the bottom of that barrel of which you speak only to rise above expectations we exceed then all the thanks the world gives to you can easily be summed up but really seeing the picture is hard when your hung up bent on the destruction of characters that you don't know just to feed some jealous need like a hog stuck at the trough those whom you hold close will soon turn on you it's just the nature of the game the piper calls the tune So even in my anger I still feel sorry for you for having to be such a **** afraid of name being known
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May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
The Piper
The storm in me Is the conflict you cant see Who i am, or am not Supposed to be The person i was, Because and should be Someone who was Smart and strong Needed and belonged Confident without hesitation A patriot of this great nation and A loyal friend If ever you needed one Today though some see me differently They say im a Disappointment with disabilities Slowly ruining a reputation A product of my environmental instabilities Falling short of an expectation But sometimes there's nothing you can do When life interferes with predesitination And redirects it down a path unsecurred and Opened to translation. Just as it did to me... Now everyday is exactly the same But completely different I wish I could explain. Who I was back then Came to his end that beautiful day in May And what was left is what is now A conflict that no one sees The Storm inside of me. AvA
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Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
The Storm In Me...
Our bilingual illiteracy and contemporary expression of vintage infancy remind me of developmentally mature eccentricities within a complex haven of interpersonal dynamics. Just like a carnival hall of mirrors, our perceptual disturbances succumb to elaborate revelations and dreadful expositions of what we presume to be articulate prose. Although the socio-political roots of a seductive striptease may shatter the silence of our audible and urban ecosystems, we can now access realms which connect to the severance of divided collusion. Our galaxy has established her infinite story, in the same manner as a wrought iron gate interferes with the evidence within our contemporary society. It is just like an alternate universe.
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Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 1:02 AM UTC
Empathy
My muse, my muse, She’s here right now She just took a shower and her hair is still wet. She's wearing a bathrobe, she walks up to the bed and sits When she crosses one leg over the other I catch a flash of her thighs Inviting thighs, long legs She has pretty feet And pretty ankles, I always look at feet. She has delicate wrists She has long thumbs, here she is Now leafing through a magazine With those long thumbs, Long fingernails. Her shoes are on the floor, shoes that she wore last night They've fallen over on the carpet, My eyes find my way back to her She seems to have found something interesting in the magazine Here she is, concentrated on it, her back is straight In this light, this natural light, Without make up, She looks impossibly lovely, Renoir would paint her. I get out of bed and walk into the shower. There’s something strangely intimate About taking a shower in a girl’s bathroom, Shampoo bottles and hair conditioners all around me Water cascading down my bare chest Recollecting and replaying scenes from the night before: Unbuttoning her jeans, pulling them off Seeing her Hello Kitty underwear And laughing, and thinking it was cute And saying, umm… so how old are you again? Humour always works, yes, humour always works. I love ********** this girl. It seems as though I'm always ********** her. At night in the living room, on the sofa Unfastening her stockings and slowly rolling them off, Next her skirt, then her underwear… Sweet parting flesh I begin thinking of how it’ll be, how it’ll go down She's always in something classy, But man, it seems as though I'm always ********** her. Sometimes I strip everything off her body, But I ask her to leave her earrings and heels on; they confirm her nakedness Hoop earrings Red lipstick Red heels I lie in the middle of the bed, lights are dim, she climbs onto the bed Curls up between my legs, begins by kissing on my stomach... Great lovers lie in hell, the poet says. Great lovers lie in hell. I'm falling asleep afterwards, but not her *** invigorates me,* she says, tying her hair in a ponytail This girl, she has the effect of lighting a matchstick in the dark. She lays beside me and begins to read Jeanette Winterson And just before I succumb to a deep slumber I remember something and tell her, Baby, baby, baby, your Morse code interferes with my heartbeat.
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Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC
My Muse
My muse, my muse, She’s here right now She just took a shower and her hair is still wet. She's wearing a bathrobe, she walks up to the bed and sits When she crosses one leg over the other I catch a flash of her thighs Inviting thighs, long legs She has pretty feet And pretty ankles, I always look at feet. She has delicate wrists She has long thumbs, here she is Now leafing through a magazine With those long thumbs, Long fingernails. Her shoes are on the floor, shoes that she wore last night They've fallen over on the carpet, My eyes find my way back to her She seems to have found something interesting in the magazine Here she is, concentrated on it, her back is straight In this light, this natural light, Without make up, She looks impossibly lovely, Renoir would paint her. I get out of bed and walk into the shower. There’s something strangely intimate About taking a shower in a girl’s bathroom, Shampoo bottles and hair conditioners all around me Water cascading down my bare chest Recollecting and replaying scenes from the night before: Unbuttoning her jeans, pulling them off Seeing her Hello Kitty underwear And laughing, and thinking it was cute And saying, umm… so how old are you again? Humour always works, yes, humour always works. I love ********** this girl. It seems as though I'm always ********** her. At night in the living room, on the sofa Unfastening her stockings and slowly rolling them off, Next her skirt, then her underwear… Sweet parting flesh I begin thinking of how it’ll be, how it’ll go down She's always in something classy, But man, it seems as though I'm always ********** her. Sometimes I strip everything off her body, But I ask her to leave her earrings and heels on; they confirm her nakedness Hoop earrings Red lipstick Red heels I lie in the middle of the bed, lights are dim, she climbs onto the bed Curls up between my legs, begins by kissing on my stomach... Great lovers lie in hell, the poet says. Great lovers lie in hell. I'm falling asleep afterwards, but not her *** invigorates me,* she says, tying her hair in a ponytail This girl, she has the effect of lighting a matchstick in the dark. She lays beside me and begins to read Jeanette Winterson And just before I succumb to a deep slumber I remember something and tell her, Baby, baby, baby, your Morse code interferes with my heartbeat.
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58
A quandary, How inconsequence can change us A comment, made in passing, without thought, Can bring down mighty empires and associations And render good relationships as nought. A quandary, How we pick up bad impressions And label them with values as we go Until the crass delusions of a lifetime Are worn as camouflage to what we know. A quandary, How we founder in the hindsight Of guaging how our brothers measure up, When flavoured by our own apparent short fall And tasted in our own judgmental cup. A quandary, How life slips bye through the fingers Preoccupied with details of the way We  watch the fool performance of the others And lose our true perspective of the day. This quandary, When a rain storm clouds the morning Then suddenly a bright sunbeam appears, It's like quandary's building worlds of complication Which dissipate when rationale interferes. Marshalg Pondering issues lightly... 3 June 2011
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Jun 2, 2011
Jun 2, 2011 at 4:21 PM UTC
A Quandary