"rewarding" poems
Friendship is to trust
Friendship is having the kindness to help
Friendship is giving to others without thinking
Friendship is being there when someone need you
Friendship can be just a smile that brightens your day
Friendship is giving more than you expect to receive
Friendship is listening
Friendship is offering your opinion when you think you need to
Friendship can be many things
Friendship is different for everyone
Friendship could be holding a hand for support
Friendship is lending your shoulder to cry on
Friendship is mellow
Friendship is giving back
Friendship is only taking that what you need
Friendship can be that voice of reason you give
Friendship could also be a boost of encouragement when it’s needed
Friendship stands the test of time
Friendship is show in many different ways
Friendship can be everlasting
Friendship is not always an easy thing
Friendship is hard to break apart
Friendship is strong
Friendship should never be taken for granted
Friendship is meant to be shared with all
Friendship is free and rewarding to share
Friendship can be unforgettable
Friendship is priceless to many
Friendship is a secret never to be told
Friendship is not having to say sorry but do
Friendship is not judging no matter what
Friendship is to share, the joy and the fear
Friendship is someone to run too when things are tough
Friendship is a hand to hold when things are so rough
Friendship is someone to laugh with not at you
Friendship is just knowing they are there
Friendship is very personal
Friendship is all of these things and many more
This is are how I see friendship
To have a true Friend is the best thing to achieve
We all have one but it may take a very long time to find them.
For You Kiwi, Thank You So Much X
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC
Loyalty...what exactly does being loyal entail? Well that is hard to put into words.
Some may say that being loyal means "down to ride " or even "Iwill never cheat " . Its easy to be loyal when what your being loyal to is at lifes mountain top...
To me real true loyaltycomes when you see some one at there worst and/or lowest point. And you still stand tall by there side .loyalty is being there when no one else will or even wants to be .loyalty is seeing helplessness and hopelessness and embracing it as a oppurtunity to give a hand up instead of a kick down .
Its loving some one the same amount wether its the superbowl or the tolietbowl .loyalty to me just comes naturally and is the absolute right thing to do. It means no matter what happens they know they have you.
Loyalty is the foundation on which every relationship and friendship is built around . With out loyalty life is meaningless and feels as fake and lonely as it .
Loyalty at times can be hurting even withering but at that exact time be rewarding ..loyalty is shown at lifes highs n lows ,in all shapes and forms
..so in life if you can find another person that can be truely and honestly loyal back to you ..it gives you the sense that it was all worth it ..
We all need that one person. That no matter which of lifes path you journey either up or down wrong or right ..you know unquestionably will with out doubt be there for you and when you see that the road traveled leads you to a dead end you have them to point you in a new direction
Mar 20, 2020
Mar 20, 2020 at 7:51 AM UTC
I haven't stayed up this late
since our restless early morning contests
to see who would fall victim to
heavy eyelids and tired thoughts.
I won of course, you most of the time,
but I won on the longest nights (or so I'd like to think)
though my satisfaction was rooted from
something entirely different.
To be honest, I could have cared less about the victor;
I was competitive but I liked when you won -
the shine in your voice and
the glimmer in your smile telling me
how I snored through the night (I didn't)
was much more rewarding.
I haven't stayed up this long
since our late night conversations
turned into early morning slurred sentences
of who could make the most sense
whilst repeating I love you
inaudibly through earphone speakers
and bundled blankets.
And as much as the tiredness
enveloped me in its embrace,
the thought of yours implied through
the telephone waves proved
to be worthwhile, nonetheless.
You were miles beyond my reach,
but you were simple words away.
***I haven't stayed up this late
since we fell asleep falling in love***
in different beds but with the same desires,
on the same line; on the same page.
And I hate to admit it,
but I still like to think of it that way.
- g.d.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 3:58 AM UTC
is like no other early morning, man reborn, in the delivery
room of sky blue, the offsetting water deeper bluish hue,
the trim-all-around of the mixed salad greens of the staff's
scrubs as they usher in unity, with no imp-unity, the risks,
while the supervisory sky, disperses cumulus clouds in
peppercorn patterns of white chains, or big wide solitary
brushstrokes on a a ****** canvas, gettin' the feel in the
palm of the heft of brush, the viscosity of the paint, the day's
palette reflecting available colors in order to create a uni~cued
original of what has been painted an uncountable times before,
and before…
tho short weighted, was the sleep of the prior night's restful,
he awakes to the early morning light, the sounds of early
island rouse him, even, arouse him, for the August chill
foretells of the early onset of memory loss of the peculiarities
of this summered simmering, human warming and baking
and natural braking of the slowing of the heart rate, to better
accommodate, nature's hints and hidden reminiscences
of the true purpose of the summer's intervention upon our
collective and unique bottling, our individualized containers,
un~lidded, uncovered, eager for the fuel of sunrays replenish-
ing the length of our lives by the elixir of the summer
it is a chill 63 Fahrenheit at this time of day as we crossover
to the nigh day, from the cooling air conditions of dark,
the occasional helicopter intrudes upon the morning's calm,
the water placid, the geese honking regarding my watchful
rewarding presence, a slew, a bevy, of female vocalists, to
ease this transitory performance unfolding, and though one
feels the existential of his solitary singularity, as he thinks,
nay believes, he is the only one in attendance at this ritualized
emergence, he takes in the cool of, the heat of, the admixture
of both, the clashing integers of each, and he, fully invigorated,
goes silent, for once more, he has uncovered new combinations of
old words to accept and describe a new day's creation, miracle of miraculous, defying the odds of this ventures's success, his own continuance on this sheltered but open all around island implanted tween two tines of land, as if all the surroundings were created just to protect this, wholly holy place…
7:00am
Silver Beach
Shelter Island
Aug 19 2025
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 8:00 AM UTC
Karma?
I don't adhere to it
But I do believe
We reap what we sow
One cannot expect to have peace
When one has sown nothing but discord
Anymore than one can expect a golden crop of corn
When the planter has actually sown beans
And roots of bitterness will sure grow deep and destructive
When not thoroughly torn out of the ground
For a thriving garden must be rid of invading seedlings
Of anything that does not foster, but fights its growth
To reap an abundant harvest
Sometimes, it is starting all over from scratch
For we've all been guilty of poor gardening
Have failed as farmers to one degree or another
You wanted succulent peaches
But you got shriveled prunes
You wanted wheat
But you got weeds
To produce a healthy garden
The fruit of forgiveness must grow as freely
As wildflowers in a field
Row upon row of compassion and love
An orchard of plenty for the desperate in need
Is the most rewarding harvest to reap
It will quench the terrible thirst
And satisfy the yearning soul
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 7:39 PM UTC
You have taught me so many things
You taught me:
how easily a stranger can become an acquaintance that brightens your day, a co-worker that makes work a little more exciting
how abrupt that pang of disappointment can be when I didn't see your face
how maddening it is to keep your feelings to yourself
how rewarding it is to get those feelings off your chest, because you felt the same way
how crazy butterflies can be - when my stomach would turn in anticipation of seeing you
how childishly young I can feel, giddy with hopes of hanging out with you or getting a text
how both electrifying, and paralyzing, a first kiss can be
that love can grow seemingly overnight and that your whole life becomes consumed with thoughts of the other
that hearing "I love you" whispered from your dear one's arms is what would probably be described as Heaven
that I deserve to feel special, and beautiful, and wanted, and happy
that holding someone's hand or cuddling can instantly make you forget a bad day
how heart-wrenching leaving you miles away could be (even if we were only apart for two weeks)
what the first hug and kiss after getting off the plane should feel like
how nice it is to feel stable, comfortable, and make plans for the future
How quickly everything can change
that sometimes people won't include you, even if you're there for them and even if they love you
how drifting apart can make time stand still
how many tears a single person can cry
that wondering what the other one is doing can drive you into a form of depression
how realizing he's not ever going to be the perfect boyfriend again can hurt
that doubting everything you ever did isn't healthy, because it's not your fault
how not being a priority can make you the angriest you've ever felt
how distrustful I become of believing those words...I love you
that I still feel crazy about you
how it's possible to be upset and mad at someone and still want to fix all their problems and give them everything they want
how hard it is to let go
that sitting at home isn't going to help anything
that thinking about the golden days, when I knew you loved me so much that it was unbelievable even to me, isn't going to bring us back together
that you have a lot of growing up to do and things to work on
that my wonderful prince isn't always wonderful
that I also have growing up to do, and much more to learn
that a few months with you were some of the best of my life and I've never felt more special
how a real relationship should feel - and even though it wasn't perfect, I still feel like it was
And finally:
you won't be the one I have that relationship with, but you taught me what to look for when I'm ready
And for that I'll always be grateful
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
Poems come from our inner pain,
Bleeding out and down the drain,
Pulling readers into our woe,
Chilling hearts like falling snow.
I will rebel against this trend
And bring my whining to an end
By listing blessings yet untold
While I am well and growing old.
First, let me thank the Lord above
For giving wife and children that I love,
And then for parents, growing old
Who gave me principles to hold.
And then for friends for staying true
Across the years and distance, too.
For work I've always found rewarding
And health to work from early morning.
For homes I've run to, needing rest,
And roads to travel in the West,
And opportunities to fly the distant breeze:
Canada and China, West Coast and Belize.
For clothing and for food in easy reach,
For education and for students to teach,
For restful nights and active days,
For knowing where to send my praise....
Forgive me, Lord, ungrateful as I often am,
And thank you, Father, once again,
For grace and mercy, joy and peace
And time to thank you for life's lease.
Impossible for me to e'er repay,
My thankfulness goes up today.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
Brush the dog tenderly
Create the time
Slowly, gently caress the cat
Doesn't it feel fine?
Stroke her jaw, her chin
Scratch around her ears
Feel her lean into your hands
For she has not words nor tears
Give your weary sweetheart
An attentive foot massage
Invest some time in affection
Praise her new hat or corsage
For a moment, be their reflection
Water your plants
Spritz the leaves, and a little new soil
Take just a minute
It's such an easy yet rewarding toil
Go for a slow walk with your beloved
Taste the evening air
Give her your ear
Visit a reflective place there
Create for her room to ruminate
About her aches and pains
About her ailing Uncle Bob
About her new job
Touch her cheek gently
On your pillow at night
Before your eyes they close
Before dreams so fleeting and light
Say something small, sweet and simple
About you and her and your heart
Not about that invoice or pimple
Or what you both need to dissect apart
For magical, hidden roots are growing!
Or languishing as they will
Simple, daily things nurture them
Not a one-time magic bullet or pill
Marlowe once said,
"Talk not of wasted affection!
Affection never was wasted!"
Water the hungry hearts around you
And the juiciness of life
Will be the sweetest you've ever tasted
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
The being is pure;
The being is light,
yet we are dark
and sometimes lose sight.
We must be aware.
We must be vigilant of ourselves
and our present state.
Life won't always be pleasant
nor rewarding,
be we must maintain self-awareness.
Things will be heard
and that will test you.
Be strong,
be aware that the urge to react will be present.
However, strength isn't fighting the evil;
strength is being patient with it.
Choose not to let it in;
choose not to let it force you to act.
One must try to be patient
and maintain a peaceful mentality.
Only speak kind words
or
words that are neutral if words must be spoken.
Never let the evil exit your mouth,
for it will cause unwanted consequences.
See the situation for what it really is,
not for what it appears to be.
Evil is easier to see than the true situation
that is underneath it all.
Again,
remain vigilant,
keep your eyes open,
but keep your ears closed.
Speak to express,
also to reveal,
but never to hurt,
nor to swear.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 5:36 PM UTC
Prepared to your liking
Trussed and bound
For you, I wait
Palms up, knees apart
Positioned just for you
Spine posed straight
Your approval means all
Rewarding by far
Pleasing you my pleasure
As instructed
Ready, willing
My master, my treasure
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
Mythical.
The artist is an old one,
Un-earthly and infinite,
Vast as heaven and the void,
The limitations of good and evil,
I am immune, yet soul crushingly bound to its power,
I am a toothpick,
Yet I am useful for now,
As I plan my escape,
Writing an endless map in memo pads and text files,
I tell myself it will someday be worth the while.
The artist is like you, reader,
The artist is ugly, disgustingly so.
The artist is beautiful, and puts me to shame.
The artist could burn the world with a thought,
But couldn’t break its teeth with a diamond,
No matter how hard it tried.
The artist is fictional,
Contextual,
Known only to I,
Especially as the artist.
I bet its laughing at me this second,
My feeble attempts to escape a napkin,
A tool to further other means.
I don’t mind it,
In fact, it’s rewarding in a way,
The artist lacks definition,
But moves with a sway,
It is hard to defend.
[(Impossible to define)]
My role is that of a journal of skin,
A memory bank to which it is akin,
But my limit is reached,
Something has come to a head,
I can feel the artist defined…
It has taken form,
And now,
Unfortunately,
Dead.
Sunburst
I wanted to ask it what it was thinking,
But I think I know now;
Bad things.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:15 AM UTC
Glass is cheaper than the stone skin
tattooed on their foreheads. The palace, a splendid fantasy,
half built when the idea will be abandoned.
Freedom is a powerful nuisance! Their only
sin is looking at the world through rose-colored
glasses, make people feel at ease despite distress and disease.
The right wing redneck reactionary republicans continue
religious slaughtering. *This nightmare scenario should
be nixed,* said with a sneer, I hope they’re wearing warm socks.
Still, I couldn’t crack the code. Changed envy to admiration
to cultivate mystery rare as it is rewarding. The weird thing
is the high-end whiskey collecting dust on the on the shelves.
Nothing short of astonishing, like the space farers gazing back
at the home planet. Distant. They fascinate people.
Animate the inanimate environment. Isolation above.
Looking back I am ashamed of the mess we are leaving
our children and grandchildren. How to allocate these limited
resources? The key is to engage. No easy fixes.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
A quaint little bazaar
In the heart of the town
Tells a story
Of a thousand moments
Dal Bazaar as they call it
Or "Curry Market" for others who don't know.
I have fragments of memorable memories
Deep within my mind
The smell
The intoxicating smell of spices
Blended with the quiescent yet cacophonous lives
Of Merchants and Beggars
Of Buyers and Sellers
Of Bullions and a single calloused rupia
In the hands of the old *****
The sunlight baking
Bags of turmeric.
Suspending the scent
In the minds of men.
Capering clouds of black and grey
And the sudden squall
Stirring the monotony
Of the customary.
The pirouette of rain
The one that excites the plainest of the plain
Painting the whitewash with shades of grey
The chalky walls
Dust
Moist corriander
And the relief of earth
Conciliating
So rewarding
For the ruins of the bare sun.
This flashback into my soul
Where all my senses seem to be so awake.
The feel of the wooden veranda
Scent so inexpressible
My eyes devouring the sunset
Tasting the heavens
Hearing it all.
Feeling it all.
Oh the plight of poets
The ritual to end a poem.
Painful.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
mind stands solemnly in the middle,
with logic and emotion on either side
like devoted sentinels guarding a queen.
"don't think about it,"
emotion says, batting her long lashes.
"just do what feels right
and follow your heart."
"but sometimes,"
logic interjects with his sharp eyebrow cocked,
"what feels right will
hurt us in the long run."
"do you want to try, and know, and fail?"
emotion asks with suprisingly honest conviction.
"or do you want to spend the rest of your
life wondering what could have been?"
"would you rather open your heart,"
logic counters thoughtfully and quickly,
"and have a part of it stolen?
or would you rather protect it all?"
as mind wavers in the middle,
she feels herself rip in two.
half of herself stands upright,
stiffly held under logic's watchful eye.
the other half melts into emotion's warm embrace.
her heart aches and she feels sick.
the idea of following logic's advice
would mean to ignore emotion's advice--
and to follow emotion's advice would
mean ignoring the advice of logic.
she looks back and forth pleadingly.
logic's cadaverous stare seems to tell
mind that only logic will solve this problem.
but emotion smiles softly, and her eyes say
that this way, though it may cause pain,
will be the most rewarding.
"neither choice is the right one,"
mind says finally,
with a little bit of logic and
a little bit of emotion.
"but i must choose now, for soon i will
not be able to make a choice at all.
"then whose advice will you follow?"
emotion questions carefully.
"will you open your heart to love?"
"or will you listen to me and protect
yourself from unnecessary pain?"
logic asks, eyebrow cocked again.
"perhaps you are correct, logic,
and i would do well to seal off my
heart and never let anybody in."
at these words, logic smirks knowingly,
but mind continues anyway.
"as for me, i think i would rather
feel true, burning love and have to
live with the scars than to be
lonely, bitter, angry, and old
and die without ever knowing
how to love myself and somebody else."
emotion does not gloat;
she simply nods softly,
encouraging mind to continue.
"after all, is life not a journey of risks?
how could we ever find peace and
contentment without enduring a
few bad decisions and learning from them?"
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 3:16 AM UTC
Lost inside my thoughts at night, silence is muted by the noise of my own mind. A deafening
silence.
Life and death, so fragile, such short moments. Why do we live by them? Time itself is
defined by life and death. By the rise and fall of the sun everyday.
How to define this I am going through right now? I don't feel alive nor dead. Time does not
seem to exist here and now, as the entire known world to me.
Like a caterpillar, trapped inside a cocoon, morphing myself to a butterfly, unaware of the
changes on the outside, of the perils awaiting for her on the outside as she gets out in the
search of the prettiest flowers on the path that leads to her partner, having to guess what
way to go.
Will I emerge as a butterfly or as a moth? Can one choose? Defined by genetics, sure. But
that does not apply here. Self awareness and focus are probably the defining factors in this
case. And if so, I shall emerge out of my cocoon as a beautiful Monarch, to cross the globe
after my soulmate, in a difficult but rewarding journey. Facing all forces of nature to find her,
and to finally be with her to the end of my short existence.
I don't want to leave this capsule as a moth, to hide in the shades and wonder through the
night. I want to emerge as one of her kind, a beautifully delicately coloured butterfly glowing
and reflecting every ray of sunlight that finds her delicate silklike wings.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:12 AM UTC
I've never seen someone like you,
Who are you, an aborigine from perfect land...
You crush me down,
You tear me apart,
You break my confidence,
The more I try, the ruder you get.
The stronger you tear me down.
To err is human, but not so for you.
You think your perfect, well I'm sorry to prove you wrong.
Believe in perfection, try your hand at it first,
Then, and only then try your hand at others.
* Personalised and Improvised *
* Evolves to ones likeness *
* Reflects who you are *
* Father of practice *
* Efficient when a true friend *
* Creative and rewarding *
* Time consuming *
* Institution of creative minds *
* Openness to change and *
* Never devastating. *
Faith is mine, and uncertainty is yours.
Trust is from humans, disbelief for aborigines.
Love for the heart, hatred for the mind.
Completeness in all its goodness is mine,
Perfection with all its imperfection is for none but you.
We try and you wreck us down,
You try and we break apart.
Let nature take its own time and heal the wounds,
Caused by the imperfect perfectionist.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
On that bright day his mind was unusually calm
He stopped by the beggar to offer him some alms
Feeling at peace with himself without a trace of qualm
He took a deep breath, with life he was coming to term.
Goodness he pondered was quite an achievable feat
A small spark that made him offer the old man a seat
Each familiar face he smiled at such easy was to greet
Inside him he grew healthier being good was great benefit.
Why men suffer jealousy fight for one-upmanship
Instead of trading for goodness most precious human keep
Just not burn to earn his food comfort and restful sleep
But live in shining goodness make life a rewarding trip.
Being good with one’s own kind he felt wouldn’t do
Other lives around him must kindly be treated too
A crumb of bread for the street dog on its head a little pat
Pints of milk and a little care for the weak and ailing cat.
As he walked the road thoughts like these lighted up his face
He found waiting on wayside many things begging goodness
Determined he would reach them all do them a little good
He sprinted along in a sprightly gait his mind in deep brood.
Back home when she opened the door he gave her a broad smile
She glowered a little askance for he hadn’t done it a while
*What brings you this sheepish smile what for the elation?
Don’t even think you can ever make on me a good impression!*
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 2:45 AM UTC
Why be a Counselor?
“Why be a counselor?” People often ask of me.
“The pay isn’t high, and the paperwork is beyond belief.
The stress you must have, dealing with people’s problems all day”.
So, I look at them, and I try, my best to explain.
“The pay won’t make me rich, you are right about that.
The paperwork's insane, and we always need more staff.
Yes, people come to me with a lot to explain.
From broken homes, trauma, and unimaginable pain.
But you asked, “Why be a Counselor?” so let me share with you.
Why I continue, to do what I do.
It’s the light in people’s eyes, when they first find that hope.
When they empower themselves, and finally learn to cope.
It’s watching them find a new life, one they actually want to live.
It’s the joy of the families, as they reunite and forgive.
It’s that one day you wonder, “am I really making a difference in what I do?”
Then your email reads; “I am happy and well, and I want to thank you.”
“That’s when you know…” I say with a tear…
“There could not be, a more rewarding career”.
-Monique Renee Smith
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 2:31 PM UTC
What used to be a rewarding escape
is now fourty eight tedious hours
filled with self-hatred and regret.
Saturday nights spent isolated, wide awake
wishing we had never met.
Reminiscing about challenging weeks gone by
followed by feelings of failure,
thoughts of insignificance
while I begin to silently cry
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 7:58 PM UTC
Is not an easy task
But it is rewarding
To do what Jesus asks
My father now needs me more
A new level of care
So I will look after him
I'll always be there
My mother is not able
Handicapped herself
And so it is left up to me
I put much on the shelf
I won't be on the site as much
I guess a rarer bird
But I will still share with you
You will read my words
I will need strength in spirit
I must find a way
If you find it in your heart
*Please help me and PRAY.*
♡ Catherine
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 2:05 PM UTC
All day
New pains exposed
Hard work?
An understatement
It even hurts to write
Right now
Dirt and sweat mixed together
Sometimes with a little bit of blood
Oh how it burns when it flows
Into your eyes and into the small cuts
But
Hard work does offer some clarity
Some satisfaction
Some pride
Knowing that you worked hard
Is rewarding
But
It can **** patience
For complainers
Abusers and users
Freeloaders and those that made excuses
People forget that in order to make
Dreams come true
A certain amount of work is required
Sacrifice is necessary
If you really want something bad enough
You gotta chase your dreams down and work for them
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
A long time ago
a wise man once said
never show all your cards.
Dear boy use your head.
If I can give you a tip
it's keep your audience guessing.
Don't let out all of your secrets
with the words your processing.
You may find it rewarding
when your stories arise
to put a twist in the tale
and create a surprise.
When they really expect
what they think happens next
take the pathway elsewhere
with a change to the text.
And when they wonder “What now”?
When they're feeling unsure,
like an Old Fisherman
you can cast out that lure.
Surely then they shall bite,
safely caught on your hook
and you can keep them all dangling
till they finish your book.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
You know I don't like it *****
I keep my freak for the streets.
You know it's just
pull the duvet over my head
so it's just you and me
hidden in this little space.
It's the voice you make
when you want to stay on the phone.
Softened, gentle
oh-so-lovely
the look you give me in the half light
misty, half closed eyes,
turned up corners of your mouth.
How can I love you this much
and yet
not at all?
In this comfortable way
like a best friend
or a husband.
It's not exciting at all
and definitely not rewarding
but I care far too little about myself to stop it
and love you too much to change it.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
Help me
the drugs don't work
my father touches me
I am too fat
powerless
I incise my anorexic hunger
with a martyr's red razor
rewarding myself
with a dopamine high
mixed with pity and disgust
so I can hide in the up and down
never know my real reasons
project my sadness onto others
and take pills
from psychiatrists
who themselves
believe the shallow island of chemicals
is the solution
and who work only
to keep you sick
when the sun is shining
but you cannot see it
because your frontal cortex says
the sun is not shining
when in fact
it is.
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 9:51 AM UTC