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Early in the morn I wondered whether to laugh, or commiserate, with someone whose journal I had read, who talked of the possibility, of being a cutter, or dead; having previously picked on many who had talked of such things, by leaving the line, ‘don’t talk about it, go ahead and do it.’

And, I used to think she had been heartless with such a remark, often thinking, that will come back to bite you on the behind: and then I read as I did, wherein she wrote of her days feeling as others have and asking for the same understanding, that she so rarely showed back then, when we used to speak. So once again, I wonder why the intolerant expect others to show them the tolerance that they’re loathe to display themselves?

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BluSpirit
17:32 Sep 24 2010

Some people seem to think they are invincible...and act as such, playing the villain. Then, when something happens that makes them realize they have as much potential to be hurt as the rest of us, when they turn from the villain to the victim wanting a hero, someone to help them, it's usually a surprise.



Don't know why - I have heard the phrase "Karma's a bitch." many times from many people - all different backgrounds.



I think it's ironic, though, that so many people have heard the golden rule, yet fail to consider HOW they actually want to be treated...and, in my experience, most of those intolerant folks, when it comes to the point where they request tolerance, get upset when those they have burned in the past return in kind.

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TheArtistRose
01:53 Sep 27 2010

.... sadly I agree a bit with karma is a bitch but ... I feel real bad and I hope all is well.

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I was up, till the psycho hose beasts came out to play.. with my mind..

women who haunt me... evil things.. crawling from the wood work.

slimey, Oozing pustules, put upon this earth, to plague me.

that have seeping from their underbelly, a thieving grasping set of claws, that they seek to get under your skin..

..such is the nature of, Psycho Hose-Beasts from Hell.

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spookshow
19:26 Sep 21 2010

Great stuff

i love this it's right up my street as they say ;)

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I was doin fine, till the psycho hose beasts came back around; a couple of freakazoids messin with a delicate mind; now, everyday is a moment by moment thing, y'know?

Sittin on the train sunlight flickers on the eye, as the scenary passes by, and as Jethro Tull’s pipes echo in my ear, a teen sits near, from college I think, to gauge from her folder of pink, that she idly toys with, her brown heavily arched eyes looking down, till she decides to pick up her bejewelled phone; and long-nailed fingers dance over the keys, as she texts something of deep interest, to judge from the way her glossed lips purse; and, the text message must be epic, I muse, as I look between my knees, to her trainers, worn without laces and then, upward to taut thighs and a very pert derriere, confined with stone-ground blue-jeans and, my gaze carries on further upward again, to her moss green shawl with short sleeves, worn over a white spagetti-strap tee-shirt that she fits so well, I’d say; by the generous swell below her well-tanned elfin-face, framed by straight, black shoulder length hair: and then, I’m distracted by the fluttering dancing light, that appears to her right, as she operates her jewel encrusted phone and, the bright lights dance in the shadows, where I sit.

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PAGAN
18:04 Sep 17 2010

Shiny, bright and glittering - the star of tomorrow.



Great poem.

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JinxHeartSmile
21:59 Sep 19 2010

this is wow.

Incredibly detailed- it's like you recreated a moment in time out of words

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few care, as they profess.

an

have difficlty accepting of such themselves.



trust is an issue.

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foreveranangelicvampire
13:13 Sep 15 2010

true

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NoctusAngelusProcella
14:40 Sep 15 2010

true it is difficult

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JinxHeartSmile
21:52 Sep 19 2010

agrees..

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The windmills, of his mind,

whirled no more, at the idea

of Love; and Don Quixote

rode the train and, dragons

surrounded him, as the

journey progressed, with

memories unkind of the

cheating ex, etched into

his brain and he stared at

his reflected self in the

window and his armour,

tarnished and worn.

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NoctusAngelusProcella
01:59 Sep 10 2010

this lovely

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BubbleGumClaudia
02:12 Sep 10 2010

Wow......

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The woman over the road from us had developed senile dementia; then she broke her wrist, like my Mother did, prior to waiting twenty-six hours to be seen; and now she’s in hospital: and, I hope she’s treated better than my Mother was before she died. And, the woman two doors to her left is now departed. And, it seems that ‘the Christian’ died three weeks before I found out, which was irksome, as I had felt as though everyone knew but me. And as you can tell, right now, our block is like living in .

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NoctusAngelusProcella
01:14 Sep 07 2010

death comes rapping tapping at alls door.

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