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Recent Comments
- skipavm@gmail.com on Into the Amazon
- Anonymous on Into the Amazon
- Anonymous on Invisible as the Wind
- Anonymous on The Art of Love
- Anonymous on Just Passing Through
Meta
Priorities
Our true purpose lures us away most strongly from the shores,
when we are caught in the clutching current of the routine.
so go ahead, be late for that staff meeting…
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is is as is
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I looked at all the details, and I did not see the devil
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regrets
The only regrets in life originate from poor spelling and picking up pennies heads down.
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Mathematics of happiness:
The time spent regretting yesterday, is only balanced by a longing to change tomorrow. Funny thing about life right now, is that it can seem only half fulfilled between what just happened and what will happen next. Why are you smiling? I fail to see the humor in that.
Assuming a gaussian distribution, there is a high likelihood that the real answer is in the middle – the joy of the “now” depends on where you set the variance of the before and after. I mean to say,
…it’s important to remain absolutely certain throughout your life…but one moment at a time.
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Tears in the Thirsting Years
How intriguing to fathom the labors of love, Staring up from a fathomless well.
As if happiness might lift the wings of a dove,
Clipped and weeping in the hollows of hell.
With great stealth it navigates the depths of doubt,
To overtake a torrent of tears.
A deluge of hope to quench the drought;
Precious seconds for the thirsting years.
art credited via www.emotionallyvague.com
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SWEETLY AS ONE
Together we lower the moon and raise the sun,
An ocean apart, but sweetly as one.
An ocean apart, but sweetly as one.
This love is in the rhythm of earth’s revolution.
Whether it comes to rest
or forever spin without friction.
No living thing that stirs its surface
Will alter a second in time
The sound of your heart will only be heard
not by meteors or comets, but mine.
A fatherly sigh, of divine breath lifts us,
Like dust from the planet, so gently
As two souls collide out of billions who tried
Finding peace on this braided journey
Revolutions in swirl around a steadfast sun.
As two once lost beings come sweetly as one.
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How to Make a Bad Dingo Regurgitate a Baby
Step by step now.
1. Stick two fingers in dingos mouth.
2. Press down on back of dingos tongue until dingo regurgitates.
3. Catch and dry off baby.
So no more excuses moms.
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Quips for the Quipish (part 2)
I would rather be incised by Occam’s razor in an act of mercy, than coddled by mis-intended sincerity.
I cannot suffer a man who deftly climbs the shoulders of idiots to vehemently purport his wisdom. For a wise man well versed in the ways of a fool, finds useful similarities for both, rather than useless differences for himself.
I’ve picked up many a stone, etched with words of encouragement…but none so fulfilling to me as those I’ve scribed and left behind
Lies are the salt pressed into the open wounds of truth…
I’m just a reluctant bon vivant with 10 unruly typing fingers who apparently conspire with the warped underworld of my mind.
One need not purge an experience that has let them down, in order to heal. There can be no regeneration of spirit, when the injury is discounted – hm, emotional “corpus delicti?” Or is it “esse causa doloris remedium esse?” Where’s a lawyer when you need one?
Imagine cause and its effect like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich… One is too sweet, the other leaves you dry in the mouth – together, not so bad – especially with cold milk (unless you are lactose intolerant – then I recommend cherry Koolaide)
Everyone has a magnetic north – sometimes we just need to examine the metal filings left in the path of another to realize it..
Health care, health reform; my taxes, their taxes; 90%, 10%; constitutionality; bla-bla-higher, bla-bla-lower; yes, no; da, nyeht; Those who make up all the questions, make up all the answers.
I’m always confused by traffic…and nuclear physics. but i’m drippin wit “yo”
The weight of the beer in my hand became less stressful with each sip.
I love a good storm, whiny midwestern girls, bicycling witches, and spitball sized dogs name Toto….I’ve sealed and barricaded the doors with the children. It’s all good.
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Faith
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