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| Best or worst?
Night or day?
Mountain or valley? | | |
| Poetry...
Under flowers, on the window pane,
Sits the snake to sight so plain.
People tell me just the same:
Be careful what they say.
When I wash, it sits quite near,
To my heart, to be endeared.
While the sheep is more than sheared,
I was hoping you could stay.
Promises of emeralds green,
No better could my virgins beam;
Uncork the kettle to let out steam.
Some were fearing this all day.
Scars remain, but love has gone.
Over memory of the snake I fawn,
Hoping to someday see the dawn,
When I beat the snake away.
| | |
| I don't like the current lyrics for the Christian Band song, but I'm
having extreme difficulty writing new ones...so I'm at a loss...
My voice is also acting weird on me, ever since last Friday; but I
think the majority of it is due to my obsessive compulsive worrying
over my health...
This new thing troubles me...reminds of me of what I ought to have
been...sends me forward but froward...maybe it's older than I believe
it to be...
| | |
| Love...why now? Of all the past incidents, of all that's transpired, why now?
Water in our basement, fear in our hearts, desperation in all our endings, and anxiety in our starts...
| | |
| "Very little in this world is based on truth: it's all based on perception."--Jay Harrelson
Two proofs that individuality doesn't exist...
1. No two people can live the exact same lives; therefore,
individuality is a trait common to every man and thus no longer a
transcendental characteristic.
2. Originality is a relative term. How we live is based on
ideas of the past. No one, save God, can create anything original.
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