Apon tha roll O' tha pagan's dream
As it leaps an' boun's apon tha mental stream
Flowing doon intae tha cordons o' solitaire
Near tha brigs O' tha banks O' Bonnie Ayr.

Tha whispering Hazel catches huld tha tune
Echoing tha mysteries a' tha wae tae Troon
As a glimmer O' lichtning crosses tha Sky
He, tha ancient an' grand Wizard stoans apon Carrick high.

Configurations an' transformations by god
Far ayond tha concepts o' tha blunnering sod
Catch hold Lad tha spirit as it flees past ye
Heading oot taewards Arran across tha sea.

Does no tha Seagull scream tae enchant tha ******
an' the win' blaws like some evil melody played by a Demon
An' dinnie wait tae lang tae grasp tha chain
O' life's faithful given, tha Barley, Wheat an' Grain.

But come see tha Mither apon her Earth filled seat
As tae tha wonnerous farmer She bows tae Greet
That apon tha Seasons O' echoed fate they may come tae restore
Tha True religion O' this land, O' this flaming shore.

Nue listen an' be quite till pass a' hoors break
an' bin' ye thagither tha dreams an' thouchts that ye take
an' cast it a' apon tha Fires O' Beltanes torch
Tae watch as tha flames reach higher an' higher, tha heevens tae scorch.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Unsa’y ikatambal sa kasing-kasing nga nasamdam?
Unsa’y pwede ikapugong anin’g mga luha nga wa’y undang sa pag-agas?
Unsa’y akong buhatun para mawala nin’g nipilit nga kasakit
Sa akon’g dughan nga sa imu ra gihapon nipitik?

Ana sila mawala ra daw ni
Ana ka “this is for the better”
Ana ko, “asa ang better?”, “kanus-a pa?”
Kung sa paglabay sa mga adlaw, sakit gihapon
Sama atun’g adlawa nga ako nabiya-an.

Unsa’y akon’g buhatun anin’g dughan ikaw gihapon
Ginapangita, ginadamgu, ginahuna-huna?
Ako nagpabilin sa tunga-tunga
Sa pagsangpit nga ako balikan nimu
Ug sa pagbiya, paglubong anin’g paghigugma
Nga wala na lingi-a.

Ug samtang karun nga bisa’g gamay lan’g nga pagtakdol
Sa kasing-kasing ug sa mga kagahapon’g panumduman
Wala’y lain kan’g madunggan kundili
Hagulhol nga daw namatyan
Ug sa padayun nga pagpatay anin’g ala-ut nga gugma.

Ako padayun nga mamasin
Nga pag-abut ugma damlag
Mahuman ang kasakit
Magsugod ang bag-un’g
Kalinaw, kalipay, malipay
Akon’g kasing-kasing unta magmaya na sab.

Apan karun nagpabilin kon’g mangutana,
Unsa’y ikatambal sa kasing-kasing nga nasamdam?
Unsa’y akong buhatun para mawala nin’g nipilit nga kasakit
Sa akon’g dughan nga sa imu ra gihapon nipitik?

love-energy swinging toward bitter blows:
a father’s pride becomes a son’s,
he becoming bitter becoming hatred
in the midst of love abused,
a civil fight for freedom failing in the eyes of youth:
these minds of ours turn wildly—
change to the beat of unknown drums
and death knocks us up
pregnant with a new generation of hate,
of goals to love: the obliteration of hate’s mother,
but question on, worship your mind,
build a shrine of doubt and find
darkness emerging as a deeper shade of black
knowledge? knowledge?
myths laid upon us through the perspectival dimming of language
no one’s fault? societal pressures
no cause for blame? survival instincts
no source of evil? history has a gun to their head. . . .
no use for these words? meaningless.
dialogue, yes, for the birds,
the carrion of hope
once the breeding stops
and lets the precious journey start:
down the cesspool of quasi-oblivion,
where we’re all a minority of one,
grasping for meaning in an abyssm of phantasmal foundations.
words, words, the excuse of words;
when father’s left no ground to walk on,
the son sits there digging
ditches for the death of systems
holes in the fabric mother wore,
tears in the existence we thought we knew.

what is this about? question marks
swerving away from sour truth
bleeds the nonsense through the flesh of what we love
and dying, dying, hate becomes a source of love,
guilt projects a softened heart
kneeling down now
outside, but wanting in.
affirmed, dejected.

[OR
are they swerving away from faith
simply a defense against the actions to take
ontic procratstinator! hear me now!
safety is the goal behind every measure
seek danger and you run the dangers of comfort,
seek comfort, and delusion becomes your handmaid.]

for knowledge of past dogma is dogma too
and the heart pumps it anyway;
for existence is. O heart, your sutra
flows nimbly on into eternity,
but you take this life and live it now,
the rhythm born of a mystery,
sacred to the foolish,
sarkin to the wise—
and the dancing wise man
birthing a new enigma
travels on into the depths of the ordinary
with a smile and a bow,
a hop-skip like Nietzschean
melodrama.

I can write it once for fun,
twice for accuracy,
thrice for fame and ten more for shame.
Do you want to know what it’s about
or do you want to figure it out?
the game of pride makes fresh
the fish of mental seas;
but truth is less cozy;
dagger in your existential eye.

no conclusions to be embraced without the whim of faith?
no art show game gripe to win but for the game of taste?

this bout goes on, this Bout goes on! oh how I wish my mind was lacking!
but no! the sacrifice, but the sacrifice,
pigs of Aristotle knew no quarrell,
no such quarrell.

when does such a poem become a forced effort?  when will I stop questioning myself?
where is this urge to destroy originate?
what ******* language am I speaking in when I think?
what and why,
who the but questions, questions
falling spiking holes in teh floor of contentment
or is it laziness: should I tak emy e pick now or wa itf ort he rig htto **** newith mystic alllllllllllll certainty from be yo ndt he fen ceof lan gua ge.

why go back? why try?
the difference between communication and self-indulgent writing is the effort to conform to the extent necessary for the sharingof truth... and so nobility demands conformity, however long it takes and however wonderful it may be in the mean time to simply spill my fingers across the trypesu ritre lia shjkk e a A b B i IG load o f ***... as if the hiddenness of deconstucted language masked my immaturity as a poet, as a person, as a thinker, as a wallower in shame.  as a Man. as a *** machine. as a weak creature. as a creature of potentially great accomplishments but small ***** at the present, as a person hiding from the said for fear of having to live up to it, as one who doesn’t believe his words half the time, even noe, ever noer rht all suiooos  dhjhjh tuof rhty w arbif trya dfyoudng huddkkfkd fmdmf dfdlililhkjga wyeruipok smmm tuhtuth dgfhg dagdh f dhajkdf  fuduudjjd fh d hdhhd bit b not n tno totot t ototot  read read read read read read read read read reda dnrenadkf leadsd fhdus duig hgjhdf dh sdmf sialdihf duf dreioan ign udfin the dh diguicse of hjtkjh heioa never heros heilike hte  e9a 1 1 ih kj n h ogma doifj hedOLvever otitoto the  ososososririrroow ww dance waiting at the librasyer renckjh c concon con iejr a  goodo excucse to t constraint no nt rot th even dfhight hwith th d dear on the all ndklfn eh fh searching thioart worthless buthen I find htheihadf htis hivoih Valid dfkdljhf jhkajh yea it s i kjh Lavlls ishn Vadildld meaning ngon woven into nonesense nd fnidoijifj bJar in Tennessiossdnohf  a freww few deletes and the important words become clear however taxing on an hypothetical reader from the future in which I do hope to become g”reat” half-heartily,  though for show.  .  .and the experience of writing is revealed through the laziness, or tiredness, of a recent graduate trying to write something meaningful after a summer of passion and *** and drugs and resentment toward the family and the sad economic advice given him.

infinitely flexible, malleable
in every way imaginable;
sprinkled in magic with a taste that can

2. complicatesimplifyconfuseand
clarify;

3. a compass with which castle crafters
map their masterpieces, built from layers of
similes and metaphors and symphonies of sound,
of memories and apologies and everything bound;

4. a reel of delicate threads which
fervently await a seamstress of words to
weave them together;


*impressionable when you don’t mean it,
fleeting when you do.

Da queste parti .siamo tutti circa il vestito bianco;questo non è un segreto .Ma oggi ?Stiamo celebrando i nostri ragazzi !SMPers .lasciate che vi presento clothier personalizzato .Alton Lane.Dotato di abiti da sposa on line sposi e dei loro ragazzi un processo di adattamento e di divertimento senza stress .sta preparando per il grande giorno è appena diventato infinitamente più facile !


C'è così tanto per amore di Alton Lane;iniziando con laid-back .appuntamenti privati ​​per gli



sposi + i loro ragazzi dove ognuno si misura e montato .il tutto sorseggiando un drink .sdraiati su un comodo divano e guardare la partita sul grande schermo piatto .Con showroom a Dallas .New York .DC .Boston .Richmond + più a venire .Alton Lane.riduce la necessità di raccordi con l'uso del loro top di gamma tecnologia 3D body scanner !Un consulente personale farà in modo che la misura è giusta e avrete consigli su opzioni di personalizzazione come il taglio .sfiati .pieghe .monogrammi e colore rivestimentoètutti che è incluso nel prezzo base!Con camicie a abiti da sposa 2014 partire da 89 dollari e abiti abiti da sposa on line a solo $ 595.personalizzate non è mai stato così conveniente .

Con una straordinaria selezione di colori dei tessuti e pesi .Alton Lane.ha coperto se stai andando cravatta sulla spiaggia casuale o nero.Head over qui per suggerimenti personalizzati della Guida look e donè èperdere alcuni dei Alton Lane ' matrimoni reali presenti !


Photo Credits : Fotografia Ciao Amore | Brooke Fitts | Melissa Grimes - Guy Fotografia

Ciao Fotografia L'amore è un membro del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .Ciao Amore Fotografia VIEW
http://188.138.88.219/imagesld/td//t35/productthumb/1/1632635353535_394716.jpeg
http://www.belloabito.com/abiti-da-sposa-c-1
http://www.belloabito.com/abiti-da-sposa-2014-c-13

I've faced my most terrifying fears
and let go of people I held dear
escaped in the brink of death
conquered sleep paralysis
rejected every stupid existing fad
left my ghosts from the past
passed my worst subjects and
passed everything
But I couldn't seem to handle
A SLOW INTERNET CONNECTION

I tell my problem
the operators just roll their eyes
more than a thousand peso every month
and freaking 1mbp/s everytime
I've never tasted the quick internet connection
but you can't say that this is okay
until you watch live stream online

Slow internet...
The lan is tough ahead
the rules of survival lags
the PC hangs
Can't you give us the quality we deserve
also no, to the Telepad
they're being greedy and they know it

Everyone thinks i'm just impatient
Just cause it's true
doesn't mean that it's right
so sit down on the desk
and open that PC
let me show you what it's like
to use a computer with
A SLOW INTERNET CONNECTION

the Youtube has never gave me a video with 720p
downloading movies takes forever to take
and the facebooks works like ****
but it goes fats when I restart
ain't nobody got time for that

Two pilgrims tread the trail of life
Hands entwining heads held high
Strength together striving forward
Eagerly stride into light
Future paths extend before them
Myriad choices at their feet
Ahead the ground may lie uneven
Storm clouds rolling over head
Bonds of marriage defend strongly
Pro-tect through all hardship flung
Growing close through life’s unfolding
Protect inward leaning hold
One mind one thought defining purpose
Each support defend uphold
Strength of heart and resolution
Adventuring .........  two lives as one!


Perinion Dwy cerdd mas i bywyd
Dwy llaw yn gafel pennau lan
Gyda'i gilydd yw y Cryfder
Awyddus cerrdd i golau claer ....
Llwybur yn dyfodol estyn
Efallai *** y llwybyr’n creigiog
Tu blaen eu traid mau dewis glan
Cumylau stormydd dros ben pennau
Cryfder priodas bydd y calon
Cadw’n dau mewn pob afrwyddineb
Yn tyfu’n ddau  dros gyda  n’gilydd
Cyd gafael iawn am cymorth  glir
Un meddwl rhwng y ddau su’n priod
Cariad glan cyfnogi llawn
Calon gryf am penderfynnu
Gyda'i gilydd yn bywyd mawr!

(An mémwa granfré an mwen Dodo, frè jimo a Roderik, ki disparèt an *** lanmè koté Sentlisi lé disèt maws démildisèt anbo kanno ay, In God we Troust, menm jou ti frè an mwen Toto fété swasantkatran ay)

Lè Manzè Frégat, on vyé zwazo épi tèt a sizo lan mè, rivé

Konpè Dodo té ka ba dé kudmachwa adan on ponm arak kon i té ni vyé labitid fè

Dépi lé i té ti manmay chak trwazyèm vandrèdi a mars o pipiri chantan

Sété on sèl pélrinaj pou y té pran gou a sé prèmyé ponm malaka ki té vinn friktifyé

Vyé zwazo la diy konsa: « chaben, apakonsa zafè ka fèt ! avan ou té sèvi kow, avan menm ou té comansé manjé plen vant aw, ou té dwèt ban mwen lajan an mwen, ban mwen sa anfwamenm »

Konpè Dodo pa enmé pon vyé zwazo diy pon vyé biten ! I wondi bouch, i toufé, i manké tranglé :

-Ki pawol a foumi fou ki la ? i taw ?

-i tan mwen. ban mwen lajan an mwen, man, ou alo, ranjé zafè aw byen pas dènyé vandrèdi aw rivé !

ou pé kriyéy jan ou vlé malaba, malaka, kwachimelon, otaheite, pomme d’amour, ponm tayti, manzana malaya, séw ki sav, ou pa papay

sé mwen ki mèt ay, ou tann ! Ou tann byen !? Pa fè mwen trapé dézod épiw

Pa fè mwen jiréw, avan ou ay pran zafè a moun prokiré sav ki moun ki mèt a kann la

mwen ja las jouwé domino épiw, kouté sa byen, wouvè gran zorey aw ! An ja diw sa, yo ka kriyé mwen an lot koté Jambo, Prensès Scisour Lanmè

mwen pa vlé sav si ou métodis si ou advantis si ou ka fè penti

si ou rosikrisyen si ou catolik ou si ou ka trasé lèt asi olivetti

si bon dyé aw vodou, endou, ou témwendjéova, fwa aw sé taw, tan mwen sé tan mwen,

Non an mwen pa Séza non an mwen pa Bondyé sé Jambo

ponm arak ta la sé tan mwen, sé awryè granpapa granpapa mwen ki té arawak

ki plantéy, si ou vlé sav, ban mwen diw on ti biten malgré vyé mannyé érétik ou ni dépi toupiti. ou ka ékri tout koté « In God we Troust » sé pousa ou dwèt ka vinn trousé mwen ! foutémwa likan, espèce de malélivé

manjé kénèt aw ou chenet aw ponmsitè aw fé sa ou vlé épi yo mé pa mannyé vyé pyé ponm arak an mwen

sa ja ka fè plis ki katvensètan ou ka fé la fèt asi pyé ponm arak ta la

Ou pa sa li fransé , chaben ? espèce en voie d’extinction! An ké diw li on lot fwa an nanglè si ou pa vlé tann fransé

Endangered species !

Mé Kompè Dodo pa té vlé tann march ! Kompè Dodo mété koy ri ! I pa té pé rété ! Telman i té ka ri i té ka pléré !

Ki jan i té kay péyé pou on ponm arak pou on vyé frégat malkadik, dapréy non ay té « Prinsès Scisour Lanmè »

Manzè Frégat ou ni on jan dapréw ou sé yen a dan lé trwa Moiw, on Manzé Atropos

Konsidiré séw ki mèt a bobiné é débobiné

Mé apa mwen ou ké kouyoné, sé pa jodi jou disèt mars pon vyé zonbi ké koupé filsèvolan mwen

Banw diw sa, Tiré gran zèl nwè aw anba la pli la é ay pozé kow anba on pyé kowosol

Demen samdi avan jou ouvè mwen ké vinn kué ti ponm arak an mwen

Manzè Fregat pa pèd tan, vitman i poté mannèv, i anki ouvè gran gèl ay, bèk ay té ka parèt sizo

I vorey i varéy i valéy, i wotéy – zyé a zwazo la té ka sanm on sèl fé dartifis woz fichyia –

A las siete y media de la mañana, eran las siete y media en punto de la mañana

Kompè Dodo bat dènyé ti domino ay, a las siete y media de la mañana

Manzè Frégat comansé ranjé tou dousman sé domino la an bwat a domino la

Epi rès a ponm arak la i préparé pouy on ponch ponm malaka.

Sé pa pou ayen ni on proverb ki ka i konsa:

Pa jen jouwé domino épi on frégat si ou ka dwouéy on biten.

I can’t sleep at night
Nor can I eat alright
In fact, anything I try to do
All end up undone

Every night I desperately try to sleep
Every time the dawn comes to shine its light on me
I feel uneasy, weak, and weary
Yet my senses are always on the ready

I am not sure of what continuously haunts
My soul as I continue to miserably live on
What cruelty have I done to deserve this fate?
And suffer in every minute of every day

This all started when I had done
That one deed that needed to be done
To save my life and continue to breath
The air of life and the lively feeling

You may ask what deed it is I speak of
Very well, I will tell you my tale
If you promise that you will never tell this to anybody
No living soul, other than you and me

Do you accept? Very well
Here is my story, I hope you’re ready

It was a cool, lovely evening
With the air refreshing as can be
The sound of merriment filled the streets
Coming from the filthy pubs and inns

My love, who’s name I cannot say
For it is too lovely for any mortal’s mouth
To say and speak in any way
Not because I forgot it the very next day

We were walking down the streets that night
Enjoying ourselves for the success of my fight
I cheated, yes, but it was a victory nonetheless
And so we were out having fun with what we had

It was late in the evening, almost midnight I recall
I got drunk from all the drinking I had done
And so my love and I started our way home
To continue our celebration under sheets and robes

On our way home, with the streets so empty
I saw men coming our way, and they looked shady
Yet with the *** I chugged, I did not realize their presence
Until it was too late and they had started their way

We were taken to a dark, stinky alley
Where they beat me up and stole all my money
My love, still beautiful even while crying
She just looked at me with her eyes sparkling

After they were done with me, they set their sights
On the woman I love, and turned to me with a smile
The shady fellows cut her clothes and gawked at the scene
My lover, undressed, with all her splendor and glory

They started their nasty ways with her temple
Defiled it with their swords and disgusting words
I stood up, having come to my senses
How you ask? They knocked me to my senses

As I watched them violate the one I held dear
I feared for my life and slowly backed off
As I watched them have their way and just looked back
I limped for my life, with my lover’s screams filling my ears

That is my tale, young lad, it is done
The rest of it is too much for you,I take it
Perhaps another day, when you grow older
Although I doubt I’d still live with my condition

Say, why do you look so furious?
Like a lion ready to maul its prey to death
And eat it up after having its ****
Only that you’d **** me with that sword of yours instead

Ah, so that’s why you looked familiar
You’re her brother, Lan, aren’t you?
Mad at me leaving your sister dead and slaughtered?
If it were you in the same place, you would’ve also been a coward

But you know what, I think you had just helped
Me to realize that sin that I have committed
To suffer this lifeless, fearful, life that torments me every day
And now I can die in peace, in your hands nonetheless

Come now, stab me through the heart and with it be done
Or would you rather slash and dismember me limb from limb?
Your vengeance sated, my actions be punished, either way
Replace my curse with the punishment of eternal hell

You have done well, Lan, I thank you
For ending my curse and starting anew
I'll be off now, but hear out my last words
I still love Janie, I'm sorry she loved me too

An saol na hóige

Deirtear go bhfúil se go hiontach
Go hállain, fiú.
Agus tá sé easca, an-easca dúinn

Á... na bréaga
Dearmadtar iad.
An brú, an strús
Na oícheanta  nach bhídis ablata titeann ina chloadh
Agus an craoí-bhriste

Tá a lán uaillmhian ann.
Smaoite, aislingí, mianta
Ach táimid coisuil leis an ngarsúir beaga
Lan d'aisling ach nil linn fédir...

Nuair a fágaimid an deagorí
Deirimid go iniseoidh an fírinne dúinn
Ach tiocfaidh siad
Agus dearmadfar arís agus arís
Tá na glúnta milte

Agus ní thugimid faoi deara.

av woond -  vwash maya

neeth - kh ya dash - shhma kh

t yeh t yeh - mal koo tha kh-

neh kh wayt- zeve yan akh-

ay khannad - vwash maya -
aph var ha


hawv lan - lakh mad -
sun kh yanan - ya omana

vwash vo khlan - khau v yen -
wah kh tah kh yen -
ay khana - daph kh nan -
shh vwo kh yan - l
- kha  av yen -

wela - tah lan -  l nee s yuna

ela - patzan - min - bisha

metol - dila khe - mal khu  tha -
wah hala - watesh vukh tah -

lah lam
al min
am yen

Maybe today I can smile even
Under the grey sky
Lit only by a weak sun
Take time to read not to run
Inhale the spring air
Plan a pain free day! plait my hair
Lounge without lethargy
Excite my day by not falling or bawling!

Soak in a bath filled with rose oil
Chop and cook for a meal
Love without the twin of hate
Endevour to finish Ayn Rand
Relay all my feelings in this one day
Only be happy!
Sit without numbness, or nuisance
Instill positive thinking, leave Eeyore behind
S**ay thank you to the day that made me feel human.

cada vez que paso por la rue des arts y abril
hay un olor a cigarrillos "fontanares"
fumados detrás del paredón
agachado debajo del cielo
con las manos como pagoda nerviosa
abrigando la brasa pálida contra la luz del día
y cada vez que paso por la rue des arts
veo a Ana en el campito detrás del paredón
con sus ojos llenos de abril
de amistades furiosas
de color avellana violeta
ojos llenos de peces
algunos arden como soles
otros llueven
esos ojos
parecían dos árboles recién talados y tibios de pajaritos
que habían dejado apenas su madera
heredera de plumas
que sostenían el aire y nunca terminaban de caer
y alrededor de esos ojos
había un lago del mismo color que las perlas de mei-lan-fan
la favorita de mis miedos
las perlas que mei-lan-fan criaba en la cabeza
para que ciertas noches haya luz
como hoy
que paso por abril
con el alma doblada debajo del sobaco como los estudiantes del alma
por la ciudad sin ojos que no ven a ana
no ve sus pechos frescos que empiezan a asomar
y tiemblen como temblaban entonces
mis siete años de edad
turbados
por tanto clarín desnudo
tanta gloria
tanta desolación
tanta triste alegría
¿qué ser?
¡esos campos de nadie que naides se atrevía a oír!
¡esas primicias como miles de legiones
arrojadas contra uno!
¡esa belleza
conmigo adentro
sin victorias!
¡los carros
las mujeres
los hijos
arrastrados de un país a otro
de tu hermosura a mi agonía!
¡a todo ayer que pasará!
¿y cuando moverás tu bondad o tu desdén para venir a la rue des arts
donde una vez fumé "fontanares"
para retrasar a la muerte?

That fountain of goodwill,
The Lan's last hooray,
Its whisper from its lips,
Where a steely bench sits.

A square of space to its centre,
Stone faced well of good fortune and remember Of heritage, hope of crowds to be as people walk by,
You watch and smile,
some notable but more of who them, than am I?

The bell of the clock from its steeple tower of grace and almighty plays us out churches,  
One hour daily ding **** to what has been till now somewhat silently gone as quick,
you have to catch it or its to quit.

A job it was once here,
A job of selling television, radio, stereo and a couple of light blue sensors!
A shop of not for me than to act out a part brain dead with a badge upon your shirt neck gone to your head!
The importance of customer service but sacked for no badge of a degree in wearing a staff beret!
Where buckle pickle proprietor with no discrepancy,
When that penny must be aired and wherever found.
It was handy knowing that especially on the brink of collapse as now it professes to be a shop of footwear convenience.

To remember back the old man carrying his wooden baton banner high reading the end of the world is nigh!
Years have blossomed upon this earth that be your witness the laugh of seeing something so strange from a boy to a man but in thinking that again.

This entrance sit to the vibrant noise of the market indoor just behind thee,
warm cosy and very principle.
Fruit and veg first on the shelf,
To a double glazier seller handed out his job leaf selling gilt,
Left or right a wall splits apart to mark a labyrinth of stalls and what's next in store.

Walk on by on that day,
Coffee on the terraces and all that hear say,
Mushy peas and ******* was the order of the day then we meet up on a middle square with a fountain of people jolly resting or been vaguely aware,

Outside it feels so cold wind sheets flapping the wind of noise of the sacred sight of the outdoor market,
Paintings of art or prints and figurines on table boards all going for a song or a shaky tambourine,
The selling shouts of two for a pound,
The second shout louder than the first
all in one big bustle of a flooded feature shopping dynamite experience.
Clothes to clone socks, bags and jewellery in front of all mason shops!
It rolls out the rugs and the magic carpets at the end on a bend of I must have that as you get what you pay for at the final gate spend.

All towel dried some pick 'n' mix,
Aisles too many and very wide,
Large Poster girl and Poster boy,
Especially for you then Troy,
That pop song ringing up the tills of records you can pick, sleeve and buy,
Those were the good old days running through the park to watch cricket and play pitch right up until dark!
Where statue of legends who once lived here
In Grace of its land and song for its country to which I pay homage and home.

Ghost Town shops boarded up and disarray,
Its wonky streets chimes of life abandoned on a precinct flattened now and gone away,
No calm of seagulls screech speech lifts its sodden place sky,
Is there no welcome here?
Kind of arms mystifying its chair,
For no more market shouts as the bubble has burst its very domain,
Its gone only with a silent pointy prayer.

O'Reily@19112014

Fever makes you dull and sober
But what's this net fever?
Have you experienced it ever?
It makes you obsessed forever !

Computers were for personal use
Then we had something to choose
They called it a LAN
Then came the WAN !

But what a way of networking
Internet started working
People all across the globe
Had a better chance to blob !

I started it for fun and frolic
But then I needed a health tonic
Cause I sat for hours long
With not a break nor a song !

Still I love the way we browse
Let in comfort at the house
Where else do I get to see
Information like a sea !

anois, anois,
it's not that bad

níl sé a lan dona,
ach gearr mé fhein

There seems to be something to it:
Rookiepoetry
We never grow out of it
So write your hearts out
Each piece is a step forward
In your evolution
And each a step backward
Toward alignment
With how you truly feel

There are no excuses
No need for defence
Or a back up plan
Let the words soar
Through the W-LAN network
Those who judge
Have not lived your life
Those who understand
May have lived enough

Poetry is a game on paper
Any form of writing is
A piece of art flowing
From your fingertips
It is no different than
A painting or a sculpture
No different than
A well trained athlete

*Humanity's artwork
Is scattered all over everything
Might aswell enjoy it

We aren't mimi lan mintuno.


;


I was never his mimi,
And he was never my mintuno.