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Post by charliegee on Jan 13, 2015 22:43:30 GMT -5
sugar is def under control ... all systems go on the procedure aet for 1/20/15 ... got medical clearance today pending cardiologist report on 1/16/15 ... lump is decidedly smaller but still has to come out ... cheers everyone ...
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Post by silver on Jan 14, 2015 20:15:45 GMT -5
Glad to hear the sugar's under control once more, charlie.
In the meantime, you may like this:
Look at the flowers, so faithful to what is earthly, to whom we lend fate from the very border of fate. And if they are sad about how they must wither and die, perhaps it is our vocation to be their regret.
All Things want to fly. Only we are weighed down by desire, caught in ourselves and enthralled with our heaviness. Oh what consuming, negative teachers we are for them, while eternal childhood fills them with grace.
If someone were to fall into intimate slumber, and slept deeply with Things--: how easily he would come to a different day, out of the mutual depth.
Or perhaps he would stay there; and they would blossom and praise their newest convert, who now is like one of them, all those silent companions in the wind of the meadows.
-from The Sonnets to Orpheus by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Post by laughter on Jan 20, 2015 6:08:59 GMT -5
sugar is def under control ... all systems go on the procedure aet for 1/20/15 ... got medical clearance today pending cardiologist report on 1/16/15 ... lump is decidedly smaller but still has to come out ... cheers everyone ... strength brother, know we're here to your words we've lent an ear on this day -- not to repay -- perhaps a moment we might pray priceless is the poets walk, without pride but in the talk a gentle catch that one might hear of what it is that can't appear
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Post by glimmer on Jan 23, 2015 2:47:51 GMT -5
poet way silence is another say
translate prayer is a way
whether uttered or no looking into
a dusky dawn or a dawn like dusk
one asks always and for always is such
a simple prayer always said never unsaid
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Post by laughter on Jan 23, 2015 19:50:56 GMT -5
there is a lightness you can feel if to your mind you cut the reel in eyes of other you can know a stillness that can never bow
just let the movement spin in time leave meaning there to be in rhyme the rythm of the life is here an irony that we hold dear
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Post by laughter on Jan 24, 2015 7:44:45 GMT -5
Trust is a lever that springs a trap door beneath your feet. Con men eye it with greed, what do they want from you? In free fall there is no care, and the surly bonds of the world aren't felt. Is this something to fear?
Perfect, as you are, right here and now, what is it that you have to gain? What is it that you have to lose?
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Post by laughter on Jan 24, 2015 7:49:57 GMT -5
poet way silence is another say translate prayer is a way whether uttered or no looking into a dusky dawn or a dawn like dusk one asks always and for always is such a simple prayer always said never unsaid Simplicity's sake is humble stillness and in that there is an unfathomable strength, neither said, nor unsaid, as it simply. Is.
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Post by laughter on Jan 28, 2015 17:28:04 GMT -5
smugwalls hover high above always ever out of reach you can hear the voices from up there, but you can't quite make out what they're sayin' how dare they? who do they think they are? does the sound of the wind taunt you? does the feel of a raindrop offend you with it's cold nerve? does the sight of the bright sun make you shirk and shrink in recoil of it's haughty intrusion? out here, on the perimeter, there is no justice at the edge of reason, all minds are on equal footing in the depths of the cavern of endless echo, the size of your heart is of no import lightly and without care those voices continue, each word a futile chip on the impenetrable wall of the unknown each syllable is scattered and tumbles out behind in a trail of wending time random stones form a walkway that no feet have ever found it cuts through a threshold that has no gate, and there is noone with a memory of ever having passed that way
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Post by laughter on Jan 29, 2015 9:44:39 GMT -5
I'll be there haven't been writing lately just posting older pieces it ain't like I don't get ideas I think plenty and, frankly, too often so just to stay in some kind of shape the muse nudged me and here I am writing about not writing figuring the old words are as good as new that the old words are the new words in different order, maybe a different form or not as emotional as a different time or I haven't anything to say its alright I can wait it out I've done it many times before the tides ebb and flow the night hides the sun even love has a holiday as smiles wash away in the tears I'll be there like I was here you just wait and see charlie giardino 1/29/15 he lives!
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Post by laughter on Feb 5, 2015 6:50:56 GMT -5
you just keep moving the lift spins and the money's been spent and you know that at the end of the day you meet that sweet feeling in the meantime, there's the hill, the snow, the skis and the wind two types wind natural and man made
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Post by silver on Feb 12, 2015 14:41:33 GMT -5
Since you've gone away Every little effort feels like punishment now
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Post by laughter on Feb 13, 2015 7:20:24 GMT -5
Washing machine is filled with red grapes. I thought I could make wine this way. mash, smash, fish, bash and the grapes give up their juice the dirt outside it just kant hide from what don't got nuthin' to lose
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Post by laughter on Feb 13, 2015 7:37:55 GMT -5
in the wreckage of the mind you find that lyric that plays just so fine in the dust at the end of your world there is a fortune to find a lottery jackpot that no winner can claim hidden in plain sight at every inch of the rainbow
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Post by silver on Feb 13, 2015 11:10:41 GMT -5
As I putter 'round the house, thoughts of My mom puttering 'round her house pop up… Thoughts drift in of her mom, her mom's mom … and so on. Does nothing ever change on this treadmill up through time? Why do we have to be? Of what value is this unending carousel? Life isn't' a cabaret…it's a bleepin' circus.
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Post by silver on Feb 13, 2015 16:34:58 GMT -5
Since My Valentine Got A Computer
Since my Valentine got a computer My love life has taken a hit. Nothing I say is important Unless it’s a byte or a bit.
Before she got her new laptop, Everything was just fine; Now she says we can’t talk Unless we both go online.
"But honey," I said, "I’m attached to you; Love is what I feel." "That keyword isn’t relevant," She said, with eyes of steel.
She clicked the keyboard furiously; The screen was all she could see, And then to my horror and shame, She started describing me:
"Your motherboard needs upgrading; Your OS needs help, too. And you definitely need a big heatsink To cool your CPU."
"Don’t flame me, my sweet," I pleaded. "Not on Valentine’s Day." "Fix the bugs, and I’ll see," she said, While looking at me with dismay.
"What ever you want, my darling; Whatever you need; you call it. I’ll upload or download anything, And then I’ll go install it."
(Her hostile CD keeps replaying, And though I don’t want to fight her, Is this what I want for a Valentine? I’ve been burned; can I rewrite her?)
"Are you all hard drive now," I asked "Is there no software in you? Don’t you remember the good times? Let our memories see us through."
"LOL," she said to me, chuckling. "You’re nothing but adware. "I’ve got eight gigs of memory; I’ve got no problem there."
"Please, honey, we can save it," I said. "Our love means more than that." "That’s not in my cache; we’re going to crash," She said, as she turned me down flat.
(This woman has really changed; Do I really want to chase her? More and more I’m thinking It might be nice to erase her.)
"Aw, honey, don’t talk like that," I said. "Can’t we just plug and play? I hereby accept default, And I’m yours, my love, come what may.
My goal is to make you happy; I want to be your portal, But your sudden, distant coldness Would test the strongest mortal.
If we need a brand new interface, So we can FTP, I’m your go along, get along guy, And I want you to stay with me."
"If you want to get into my favorites," she said, And you want to get past my encryption, If you want to get through my firewall, Here is my only prescription."
"First, put up your own Web site, And e-mail me when it’s done. I’ll check your page rank with Google, And tell you if you’re the one."
My life has become a real trial, Since my Valentine got a computer. If I want her to care about me again, I guess I’ll have to reboot her.
By Joanna Fuchs
What's V-Day without a special poem.
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