Vi lovede hinanden hele den store verden dengang
Tiderne var anderledes, klokken var 22 når den var 17.
Vi havde stjerneregn af kæmpemæssige følelser
Som vi åd af hinanden, slikkede og fik kuldegysninger.
Lange aftener, som fik det hele til at vare dobbelt kort.
Jeg er ikke engang sikker på at jeg savner det
Eller dig. Eller noget af det vi gjorde sammen
Men en del har bidt sig fast. Jeg er blevet ramt
Af en virus. En fejl i mit liv, som du har plantet
I mig og min indre globe og færden, når jeg søger
Efter ting, som jeg umuligt kan få, finde eller fjerne
Jeg er syg, og mit immunforsvar svækkes, men
Jeg går i skole. Jeg lever mit liv videre, med
Tanken om at jeg ikke ved hvornår det stopper
Jeg vil lukke følelsen af dig/det/os ud af mig selv
Du styrer alt det du ikke må og du får alt så let
Så jeg lever livet videre, jeg lærer at ignorere det mave
Sår du har plantet i mig. Jeg sover det væk.
Drømmer mig væk fra realiternes smerter. For jeg kan
Ikke klare det hele. Jeg ser ikke klart. Jeg mærker ikke
Det lys som alle siger kommer, og når de andre fortæller
Mig at det hele er hurtigt glemt. Tvivler jeg på mig selv og
På mine følelser. For jeg har ingen følelser, ingen tanker
Ingenting. Jeg har ikke noget og jeg er fortabt. For alt hvad
Jeg vil have og eje er fysisk kontakt med dig. Jeg vil se på
Dig se på mig. Jeg vil have at du fortæller mig at jeg er smuk
Og så er det det, efter vi har kysset. Så er det det. For man skal
Ikke sådan noget. For det spil vi spiller er farligt. Med et hug
Bliver man slået hjem. Hvis ikke man lander på stjernen eller
På verdenstegnet. Så er det hjem, uden noget som helst.
Vi er en tikkende bombe. For hvor mange sekunder går der
IKKE før du egentlig finder ud af hvem jeg er, vi er, du er.
Til du finder ud af at du er bedre. Jeg kan ikke. Jeg tænker
Jeg kan. Men det hele er forkert. Jeg er kommet til at bruge alt
For mange kræfter på ting man kan få kræft af. Jeg er styret af den
Kraft du har. Jeg bliver ved med at bryde mig selv ned, selvom de
Andre nogle gange prøver at få mig op og stå igen. Det (s)eneste
Som jeg ikke har, er alt det jeg ikke kan få. Og jeg ved ikke
Engang hvad det er, eller om jeg er sikker på at jeg ved det på
Et tidspunkt. Jeg løber en tur væk fra mig selv. Jeg prøver
At eskapere fra verden. Jeg er flygtning fra mig selv.
Så kom her. Læg dig sammen med mig. Lad os lytte til din stemme
Bare et par mange gange, så jeg kan høre på alle de kloge ting
Du gør og siger. Ligesom den gang jeg gjorde det før.
Dengang det hele var godt.
Da vi to ejede verden, og hinanden. Men det gjorde vi ikke.
For du er helt ny, opstået så pludseligt, men sådan er det bare.

Læs mine tanker,
stands dem, riv dem ud så jeg kan se, hvad jeg føler.
Klippe små huller,
mønstre der forvandler dem til ferskenblide kærtegn.
Sneen falder hysterisk fra himlen og lander ufrivilligt i min mund.
Ligegyldigheden lægger sig som tunge fjer for mit blik,
og jeg er bare -
Indhyllet i repetitionens storslåede pragt af forblødende sind,
der overses af snefnug og placebolykke.
Jeg lytter til melankoliens toner, der lægger sig sterilt i mit blod,
forsøger at rense det for alt der er mig; til der intet er tilbage.
Men jeg føler ingenting.
Kun en brændende stikken af forfrysningerne, der har bredt sig til alle mine organer, hvor det eneste, der pligtopfyldende fungerer,
er en pulserende hjerterytme, der magtesløs hvisker signaler om et synderknust indre.
Men væggene er for tykke og sneen for dyb
til at noget skulle kunne trænge igennem til omverdenens bedøvede trance.

Ian Kennedy and Pavle Pavlović

As Sol the Rouge begins to rise,
it warms Eve’s heart, but Downs her eyes.
A dusty halo round the flame
will touch the dunes and dawn proclaim,
as distant dusty storms reflect
on Eve’s dry eye and her deject.
To get up now it is her task –
No more in Sol-light can she bask.

You must recall: it was Eve’s Gran
who went to Mars to start a clan.
From little pool Eve chose her Buzz
and paired with him, who was her cuzz.
Through porthole now Eve sees no wood,
nor earthy ground for motherhood.
With hasty zeal space courier flies;
A sandy landing ’fore her eyes.

So, as the dawn of morn is broke,
our Eve then hops, with grace unspoke,
goes out of base to Lander Stop
to fetch the parcel she does hop.
Her ‘FedEx’ was by Earth prepaid,
and on this day had come her AID,  
by careful voyage, with prosp’rous end,
the ***** arrived that Earth did send!

Low-G and man-made air do need
the seed to make a better breed.
Incestuously is not a scheme:
a gene pool needs a brand new stream.
We want no feeble Mars-strain seed,
So A.I.Dee is for the deed.
From Earth doth come the flow of genes
as bottled stuff – you know the means!

To make the Martians extra strong
The Earth Decreed all inbreeds wrong:
All ***** from Earth-bound men must come.
Through outer space it must have swum!
In DNA do secrets lie,
tho’ some do think that fated sky
will give them scope to freely screen
the final flux of wanted gene.

“I’m not at ease, but lurk and look –
  I peer at pack from Earthly nook.
  Where linger ye, my family lift
  to proffer me some needed gift
  of fruit or nuts and comfort care?
  The time is right to use what’s there?
  No creature comfort do I need.
  My friends, I’m ready for some seed!”

“My boy must have my Buzz’s face,
  and then our girl should have his grace.
  A pigeon pair with rusty hair,
  and maybe also one as spare.
  We want his freckles on each cheek,
  that all who pass-by touch and tweak.
  Buzz wants them looking just like he
  yet also really be like me!”
                                                        
The­ season’s winds bring rain and freeze
and stirs up dust with just a breeze.
And when Sol’s power does make it soar,
the wind behind rolls more before.
If’s no heat from sunless sky,
with daylight gone, the storm does die.
Unlike her feelings which grow strong,
uprooting thoughts of what is wrong.

The storm now sounds like raging ire,
and echoes of her inner fire.
As sand blocks Sol for just a while,
it’s just so long that she’s fertile.
With redhead Buzz she wants to splurge.
To break Decree she now has urge.
“I need a gravid tum, now mine’s too thin!
  A child by him: I need to sin?”

To lock herself to Earthly Kit
and shrug off worry just a bit?
But she recalls her lover’s eyes
as endless hormones swell and rise.
“Here is The Kit for you to use”.
“I do detest! I do refuse!
Then fast it dawned on me.” – she smiled –
“I’ll flip the way to have my child.”

“ So at a juncture here I stand,
  with earthy Kit in my right hand.
  Now let me throw it out as trash,
  and see Kit burn to light gray ash!
  For we are first to break Decree.
  Oh gosh, it’s us! My god, it’s me!
  On Mars it is a primal crime!
  ’Hind bars might we be held to time?”

Unlike the Martian pioneer race,
they can no longer pick their place.
Air in the base is made for breath,
for outer air is instant death.
So Eve and Buzz are in the can.
And who’s to blame? It was their gran!
The Space Base is completely jail!
(Nor could they ever raise some bail.)

As red sky flares in real turn
then Earth’s old rules do curl and burn.
While sky does grow in ****** glow
Her love for Buzz will drive the flow.
“’Tis I, the bandit, burned The Kit,
with Buzz my man! To Earth: ‘Go flit!’
Like clarion storm I’ll shout, Rejoice!
and fiercely punch the air with voice.”

“This is the daybreak of my life!
  Tonight I really will be wife.
  I know this is my true found right –
  No more for me, moist tears at night.
  Instead, I spread some happy joy
  towards my big and beaming ‘boy’.
  O, Oh! how happy we are free,
  just jestful, zestful, Buzz and me!"

Next E-mail from the Earth appears,
and has our happy pair roll tears.
“A flaw was found in chromosome  
On all accounts must ***** succumb”!
“My heart confirms that right’s my choice:
  oh, come with me, let us rejoice!
  Today Mars broke the Earth’s Decree
  Last night we loved in our low-G!”

Next Sol does rise – Eve’s hopes do too,
as thoughts begin for Martian coup.
“Can women have new Martian Law
  to stop the rules that have a flaw?”  
“The Laws of Eve on Mars now reign
  and Earth does not its Laws ordain.
  From Earth it is today we deign
  that laws of Earth and Mars are twain.”

-----------------
Legal opinion: Eve's love-making was incestuous in two ways as it 1) involved having excessive intimacy in one third gravity 2) was with Buzz, her third generation cousin, which was against the reigning Earth Rule. (She escaped sanctions by going on to found the Martian Unilateral Declaration of Independence!)

She is so good at burning down bridges
That I don’t know what to do with the singed rope
Hanging from my backbone

But thank goodness
She birthed a crash-lander
In the off chance she severs our last ties
Because if I pinch my vocal chords tight enough
They double as a rip-cord attached to a parachute
I got buried in my heart

This doesn’t feel so much like having the wind knocked out of me
As much as it does landing safely

It’s how she made me
Raised me to crash and live

I am broken bone-callous- heal
Knuckle-scar and broken tooth smile

And you made me

Like that one time
You let him make me
Place my hand on the car door frame
So he could smash my fingers in it

I don’t even remember what I did that day
So doing it again?
Probably I’ve done it

My hand used to hurt some nights like a memory

It takes long time to forget
How to phantom limb our trauma
Like we might learn from it

I am not perfect
Which is why they remain nameless
I have probably been guilty
Of doing the things I am accusing them of

Hurting people I love

But thank goodness
Nature is the kindest architect

And I am ready to rebuild

Everybody loves *****,
they tell you it's wrong
to call it that:
*****.

My mother
slapped me in the face
when she realized
I was thinking about it.

I was five.

She caught me
sticking my hands
down my pants
handling the soft
warm muscle of myself,
as Jeri Ryan
spoke cold and hard
to me
from the cargo hold
of the U.S.S. Voyager.

Jeri's ****
were so hard and stoic
in that grey spandex,
and a slight *******
took hold of my hand
and my body cooled
and warmed at the same time.

When I was fifteen,
I first felt one,
a *****.

It made itself known
through a hole
full of wetness
and stink
in Mary's bebe jeans.

Mary,
was a puerto-rican girl
who smelled like marlboros
and perfume.

She talked about bubble baths.



I took my finger
and ran it through the
rough fabric
until i felt her.

I felt her pelvic bone,
and a soft, giving
rubber of human flesh
on the tip of my finger.

In the movie theatre I searched
until I felt an infinity of giving
an indention in the soft flesh
of breathing warmth and maximum.

With a whole world
in tow,
the lander of my finger
slowly entered a wet,
sticky atmosphere

poking, prodding,
returning
and re-entering
this wet,
fishy-syrupy smelling
world.

"I can feel your *****," I whispered.

"Don't call it that." she hummed back.

The visiting professor
Said that cryptoendoliths live in rocks

They colonize the structural cavities
Found in particularly porous types
Of rocks

And when NASA sent their Mars lander
To Antarctica
To look for life
They couldn’t find it
Because it was hiding
In rocks

You raised your hand and asked him “How?
How can they live like that?
Cut off from the sun
Cut off from the outside world
Cut off from everyone else
Living inside (and not just under)
A rock?”

Well,
Probably the same way you do

Jeg frygter fremtiden,
at fortidens spor, der er i dag er
altafgørende
alt vi gør er at kæmpe for at eksistere.
Smagen af verden ændrer sig,
og hvor skal jeg gå hen?
Weekendens distraktioner bliver en inhibitor
der holder fast i glasøjne og naivitet.
Jorden er sort og jeg ser mine organer blive
gennemboret
af snefnuggene, der falder.
Tankeløst.
I et splitsekund,
forstår jeg uvisheden, om måske aldrig at møde dig.
Mit hjerte falder ud, og lander i dine hænder.
Ud af min blodsprængte øjenkrog skimter jeg kaffen.
Jeg kan se mine lunger punktere
og skyerne kommer nærmere,
og jeg ser det falde, nattens blod
eller din sjæl?
og orkesterets toner spiller kærlighed under min hud,
men intet kan jeg mærke.
Jeg smadrer min hånd
Et antiklimaks af ferskenhud og fløjlstårer.
Når du siger mit navn vokser der universer  på min krop
"månen er død" flyder det ud af din mund og intet kan jeg stille op.
Man skulle have været barn af en anden tid.

Der er områder af mig der ikke er menneskelige.
Statisk elektricitet som jeg udånder gennem min munds korridor.
Mine fingerspidser er blå, og jeg kan ikke mærke DIG.
Jeg er alt for lav og jeg kan ikke nå dig.
Min katastrofebevidsthed er skrækkeligt fin og træder jeg forkert,
er det ****.
I mistillid frygter jeg et væsen der dukker op og kvæler mig.
At du forstøver uden at skrige mit navn.
Én enkelt gang.
For verden.
Der er ingen der må se os.
Uden værn.
Jeg drømmer om en kognition.
En kulminering af ærlighed, der får verden til at falde sammen.
Ét øjeblik der slipper lyset ind.
Hvor fortiden flyder.
Vi skal aldrig mere falde
Vi lander på fødderne.
Et ukendt humør passerer min hjerne i takt med, at vi rammer jorden.
I et sindssygt øjeblik af ærlighed.

What is the secret
of this obelisk
we are to uncover..?
That:
The French historian
The hieroglyphs
The Rosetta Stone
The ancient civilization
The Philae lander
The Rosetta orbiter
The shadow
The Solar System
and
the comets
All of these
are simply made
of the SUN..?!

et persoligt *** kontra et privat ***
dramatiserende effekt; pilfingret
højrøstet
at kaste ord op i luften og krydse fingre for, at de lander
  i en meningsfuld enhed
et solidt grundlag, en grundlæggende spørgsmål
irettesættelse og tvivlsommelighed
en helt er opbygget af oldtidens sten, tårer og menneskelige idealer
heltemod er et koncept; udødeligt og uopnåeligt
bølgerne vasker glasskår op på stranden, fremviser resultatet af et fler-årigt tilfældigt slibe-arbejde
glassets kanter slides langsomt ned og bliver omdannet
til noget mere appellerende, noget man ønsker at røre
så rundt og blødt at det føles forkert
så modificeret fra gadens skarpe skår at det er uundgåeligt at samle op
som en hånd der konstant flytter sig til et uvelkomment område, kradser skorpen af et nyligt helet sår
tiltrækningskraft
bølgen bærer gaver
vi smider skadelige genstande i havet,
men havet returnerer det menneskevenligt; kanteløst
en fjer daler langsomt men rammer også bunden

Jeg er et sandkorn i Sahra
et ud af mange
jeg er her bare,  indtil den dag jeg bliver blæst væk
blæst væk af vinden
hvor mon jeg lander ?
jeg ved det i hvert fald ikke
jeg kan lande hvor som helst
på bunden eller på toppen
men det slutter jo ikke her
for  om jeg er på toppen eller bunden
blæser jeg væk igen
hen til et nyt sted
jeg blæser hele tiden væk.

The white pie in the sky,
holds my dreams and
serves them one piece, my oh my,
at a time.

So when my head lowers like
a lander on my pillow white, I
make a case for the dreams
to feed me, to feed my future,
while I digest my past.

Oh but I lament
to my discontent
what is the context
of the intent of the
the man in the moon,
serving me one piece
of me at a time...non-stop
all night, ...
Indigestion?.
or Insomnia?

©DWE072013

When you have finished your work, I have something important to tell you all

Come in closer, closer, I remember walking down 54 street on a cold December in Manhattan

I had just finish with a job interview

a little frustrated but nevertheless

I have given praises to the almighty for allowing me to see another day

Never mind I was jobless, after two years of sending out my resume and making

Numerous phone calls to business throughout the city.



It was a cold day in December, I hit the pavement and was looking and praying to find myself a job  

As I was walking down the busy street, I saw a queue from here to Halifax

So, I decided to join the line,  

not even knowing what it was all about (nosey me as usual)  

I never even asked any of the people on the line, what was going on



So, this white lady with a clipboard in her hands, came out of the building and was escorting A few people at a time, to come in.

I stood trying to be looking smart as I am, and waited

When it became my turn, this lady looks at me from head to toe

And said to followed her, I did as I was told

She led us into the room, and started to hand out a test sheet:

She said we half only twenty minutes to complete it

I stare at my test sheet he had like 40 questions,

And some math, and vocabulary sentences to complete

I finish the test in less than 20 minutes,

Wondering what is next to come with the lady

I got up she stare me down once again,

Took the test sheet and asked me to wait in this waiting room:

Once again, I did as I was told.



After another 20 minutes she came and got me,

He exacts words.

“We are looking for people to work in Macy department stores,  

Throughout the city in all departments store

what hours can you work miss lander?

I sigh for a moment and say, the morning shifts

She said I ace the test; she took ANOTHER look at me again:

And spoke. You will BE BETTER OFF in the shoe department

Not the clothing, not the beauty counter, but the shoe department

I put my fake smile ON and thank her so much,



How dear she, after praising me on my test results

Because my *** was black,  

she wants to put me in the shoe department:

I filled out the necessary paperwork for pay roll

And I shook my head in miss believe,

I came home, and I tossed the paper in the garbage

And never took the job.

My beauty is meant to be seen,

To love beauty is to see light

I might not have been beautiful to her, but

Beauty is happiness,  

Racism is really a curse,

The advantages and the disadvantages of trying to keep a person down

They just can’t see beyond the color of our skin.



Rather than just saying we’d like to live in a more fair and equal society, we need to do our part to achieve it. (Quote)

UNDSKYLD

tårer der tværer mit blæk
Tomme ord
Der runger hult og langt væk

UNDSKYLD

Jeg ved det godt
Brændt og såret
Lander langt fra blødt

UNDSKYLD
             kom nu bare tilbage

Captured in the psych ward



Yeah the new guy was taken straight to solitary as his violent outbursts frightened everyone there at the HDU mainly because he was trying to explain in a violent crazy person way that he wanted to put this shy boy Brett omim on television cause he was worried about mr omim spike to him and you see Brett really liked him but was unaware that he was working for Home and away to study
Characters for future episodes, you see his mum and dad were worried about their son mixing with gnus crazy person but Brett said to his parents ******* and stayed at his house and this man was really angry cause he is one of those people who doesn't want people over, he just wants to play with us and then write his future episodes of home and away and he explained our character like how we look to the public very well, and then Brett saw it written in his house and mind you he didn't want this and said you ain't going to put my life on home and away, csuse if you do I will say that you are so shy and I will torture you with that forever and ever and then he said you haven't got the fucken guts mate and then Brett said come on mike, get into the car I will take you somewhere where you can write as many stories as you like and then mike lander rolling was in the HDU and met Ron cooper and mike said get out of my way, I am a writer for home and away not a dangerous crazy person and Ron put ****** in his arm and took him to the solitary room and it has a TV but mike was having problems especially when Brett charged him with slander and using his profile without permission
And the only time mike was let out of solitary was when his girl Friday came who thought it was cool to talk near the water and Ron allowed that
But made sure a nurse or even him was there so he can't try funny stuff
And the producer of home and away came in to see him and left without taking, well he said one thing and that was, no when I gave you this job
I wasn't asking you to be nosed. And film behind backs no I wanted proper people here and then mike got angry and hit Charlie in the gut and ran straight to his room and Charlie was lying on the ground in real ****** pain and Ron locked mike in saying no more visitors for mike unless they are willing to go in there cause this man is dangerous
And Ron was getting ready to take Charlie to TAFE and George came down and banged on mikes door
Ssying hey you fucken **** I want to bash the **** out of you and then George said I am julius Caesar and I am going to bask you up if you ever get out of here and mike said I am Blackbeard the pirate and I remember frying you on my boat and I will fry you some more and then Ron came back with Charlie and they bought out the sandwiches and
Then Ron got the medications out of the room and gave one by one and Charlie said mate, I am cured, today I found out how to keep silent movies, so that means I am cured and Ron said you wish and gave out the rest of the medications and then clocked off and bought Chinese and went home watched TV and fell asleep in front of the box again


Sent from my iPhone

The wreckage is hard to stare at. I think some part of me knew I was flying a little too close to the sun, and that's what makes this even worse.

Picking up the pieces after a crash landing are some of the worst times, I believe. The crash itself is painful and confusing, but cleanup is just left with the pain and analytical assessment. How'd it fail? What went wrong? What should I have done better?

I've never loved crash landings, but as a person who's adept at doing them, at least they don't go too terribly. Doesn't mean I enjoy doing them, though. Doesn't mean I don't sometimes get the feeling I should get my pilot's license revoked.

Yet another crash landing, and my shoulders hurt and my hands ache. But its just another day.

I'm just tired today and I know its rational, but its so hard not to just throw all the blame on me and glare at this human vessel like its a disappointment. I should have known better. I should have worked harder. I should be the best pilot, not just the best crash lander.

But yet again, its just like any other day after a crash.

Perhaps tomorrow will be better.

The worst feeling is loving someone
and them loving you back
but because they've been so distant
you don't know where their heart is at
Love is so tricky
even when your numb, desperate or picky.
sometimes it works with me, other times against
But still I'd take this woman, over any old *****.
I guess, no wait I really mean to say
is that even though I love her, when we aren't talking time goes in a reverse way.
the days feel like months, the weeks years.
I've tried to remain close with several other people I call my peers
but even thay can't compare to the soft spot in my heart.
we were closer once, but it seems like we're falling apart

I know she's older, and thus more responsibilities
but I'd give anything just to have her close to me
I hate having to live still just off of random memories
Writing stories, kissing, smiling,  making love
Letting our passion be known to the stars above
I try my best to be understanding
you know "I'll be there for you baby, no need for planning"
If my heart was the lunar Lander than she's the girl manning
But come on girl, show me some sign of life
please, please babe, because I'd hate for our love to die tonight

You know that your are awesome when the fellows whistle at you
However, you know you got it going on. When a blind man say to you honey
“Honey your perfume says a lot about you: you speak volume. Quote :Annie Lander

My Wednesday Ranting .. Therapy
In deep darkness on a cold night
I listen to his heavy breathing,
He seemed like a tired person last night
Today, I am tired of broken love,
Tired of not being able to fully trust
This thing called love,
Love is supposed to be kind,
Love is supposed to be patient
He wants to cuddle, I just want to sleep
I never know when a poem will come to me
Throughout the simplest ordeal.
I love his smile; I love the feel of
his prickly unshaven ****** hair against my cheeks
As I write, I create myself again and again---Joy Harjo--
As I write, I remember bad times, bad things,
Of infidelity, --- Annie Lander
It wasn’t cheating, it was the image of my thing
Doing things to others, making them scream!!!
My wicked unsettled mind keeps asking me questions
That I cannot answer, however, I had asked God
To protect me and my sanity.
Let my fears compose a poem
And allowed me to understand, why the most painful thing
On earth is to love a man?
“Sometimes, giving all of your love isn't much so save a good soul, it demands soul for a soul as fair payment.”
― Gurusharan Singhs

Jeg tror jeg er i vejen. Måske ikke i vejen, men ihvertfald ikke placeret, hvor jeg er, fordi nogen har lyst til at jeg er netop der. Det er som om, at jeg er faldet på trappen og nu skubber de til mig, fordi de skal ned og jeg blokerer hele trinnet. Jeg er så vred på dem for de mange blå mærker og lyderøde hudafskrabninger, jeg får, hver gang de skubber og slår til mig for at komme forbi, men måske mest vred på mig selv fordi det er mig, der sidder i vejen. Jeg venter bare lidt på, at jeg en dag bliver skubbet hårdt nok til, at jeg lander på gulvet og får rejst min krop op på sine ben, så de blå mærker og lyserøde hudafskrabninger så småt kan begynde at hele.

Long Term Solution

It has come to my attention that the moon is capable growing green
bananas, goats and sheep but not cattle as they emit too much gas
into the planet's thin surface can live there.
if we send refugees there as pioneers they are forbidden to smoke
tobacco although, to the great surprise to the first moon lander found
an empty packet of Camel which of course was planted there by young
Putin to blame the USA. Also should the Settlers who make life difficult for
the Palestinians, should run out of land to a new Jerusalem can be built
in one of the moon's craters.
Europe has like Pontus Pilatus washed her delicate hands of the refuge
problem let us construct spaceships that must be paid for by migrants,
but beware they can one day switch off the light.

The multi-million pound spaceship
orbited the asteroid- sent down its lander-which landed and bounced into the shade
and so its power source ran out pretty quick
and in the end the spaceship was deliberately crashed onto the asteroid
- the most unimaginative ending-to leave multi-million pound junk
whizzing around the Universe forever and a day.

I was never truly loved by anyone
Only by me and I
and I am not even sure about either one

I love my therapy session with poetry
I can assess myself with self-evaluating
I am at the point in life when I don’t
Give a rat ***, about what others think of me
Retirement has taught me to be a free agent
I am now the captain of my soul
Free from other people's demands and clutches

I have not heard that demanding salutation in the
Morning of Mrs. Lander can you come to the front desk
Or waiting for the clock to strike 3 to make my exit
Time is of the essence, and it means nothing to me these days
I will be there when I get there.
Unless it is boarding time in row 3
To love me is to know me,
as for me to love you it will take
A strong will and endurance in my poetry sessions
I have been there and done that
And will not allow it into my life anymore,
Haven to be humble and being humiliated
I had to endure, haven to question myself
About my love for me, I lamented:



I was never truly loved by anyone, only by myself, and even that I question. Poetry is my therapy, a mirror for self-evaluation. I've reached a point where I don't care what others think. Retirement has made me a free agent, the captain of my soul, free from others' demands. No more morning calls to the front desk, no more waiting for the clock to strike three. Time is now my own, and it means nothing to me.
I'll be there when I get there
unless it's boarding time in row three.
To love me is to know me,
and for me to love you, it takes strength and endurance. I've been there, and done that, and won't allow it into my life anymore.
I've endured humility and humiliation, questioning my love for myself. I lamented:

On a chilly December day in Manhattan, I had just finished a job interview. Despite my frustration from two years of job searching, I thanked the almighty for another day. As I walked down 54th Street, I noticed a long queue stretching from here to Halifax. Curiosity got the better of me, and I joined the line without knowing what awaited me.

A white lady with a clipboard emerged from the building, escorting a few people at a time. When it was my turn, she scrutinized me from head to toe and instructed me to follow her. In a room, she handed out a test sheet, giving us only twenty minutes to complete it. The sheet contained around 40 questions, including math problems and vocabulary sentences. I finished it in less than 20 minutes, wondering what would come next.

After waiting again, she returned and said, “We’re hiring for Macy’s department stores across the city. What hours can you work, Miss Lander?” I hesitated and replied, “Morning shifts.” She assured me that I had aced the test and then dropped the bombshell: “You’ll be better off in the shoe department—not clothing or beauty, but shoes.”

With a forced smile, I thanked her. Who knew that a cold day and a mysterious queue would lead me to the shoe department at Macy’s? Life has its surprises, doesn’t it? 😄