A Poem Thread

Hows about we do a collective poem, one line each, rhyming couplets? (lets join in one movement for science, for truth)
The misty mountain was drenched in droplets, (for the world is covered by life)

Which reflected rainbows of light, (potential of which is bright)
Showing the particolors lone and bright. (diversity itself being the strength)

Beneath the mountain a dark presence lurked, (but history has a demon lurking)
And so on down from the summit they searched. (so knowledge/belief not being enough the source of the truth is still sought)

Through tunnels dark the Elders flew fast, (the learned humans look with fervour)
As thus they could surprise what it hast. (seeking to topple in enlightenment entrenched belief)

Dark tongued demon's shrill call cuts, (the relinquishment of power is not given easily)
As then they froze to best locate those zealots. (stop, look, and listen to the world to find the tools to bring the truth to them)

Gouged out brainpans, they hung in blooded cathedrals, (violence of the indoctrinated flows back into history, and still hangs on, feasting on the minds of the vulnerable)
Now ascendant to locating the highest installs.
 
Growth

They stopped to look at some roses,
And were rather surprised, beyond their noses
When one of the roses spoke to them, saying,
“I am the rose and I am here, staying.”

“You’ve just arrived?” they asked the rose.

“Yes. It is now and I am here,” said the rose.

“Where did your sun come from?”

“Once I was buried in the soil.
It was my darkest hour, burning oil,
For the world around me was cold and lifeless.
I was only a seed then, no less.
Then, some spirit, which I can’t begin to decipher,
Started me to bud, and, as a wild flower,
I burst from the soil of toil,
Becoming radiant, alive, and so full of power,
As you now see me! I prospered—
Even the weeds can not touch my flower!”

“What shall we call you?” she asked, perhaps in vain,
Hoping for a clue to the book’s questionable name.
What’s your nome de plume, your name?”

“It’s not that easy,” said the rose, the giving,
“You must learn my name through living.
I cannot just simply reveal it to your wishing!”

Satisfied, they walked on, unbowed,
Living in the here and now,
For there was nowhere, no-when else, nor how.

“What could be the name of the rose?”

“‘What’ could be the name of the rose.”

“‘What’ is the name of the rose?”

“Maybe, but that would be quite a funny name!”

“Unless it was some sort of a trick question plain.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFy50jjYCKw
 
Hows about we do a collective poem, one line each, rhyming couplets? (lets join in one movement for science, for truth)
The misty mountain was drenched in droplets, (for the world is covered by life)

Which reflected rainbows of light, (potential of which is bright)
Showing the particolors lone and bright. (diversity itself being the strength)

Beneath the mountain a dark presence lurked, (but history has a demon lurking)
And so on down from the summit they searched. (so knowledge/belief not being enough the source of the truth is still sought)

Through tunnels dark the Elders flew fast, (the learned humans look with fervour)
As thus they could surprise what it hast. (seeking to topple in enlightenment entrenched belief)

Dark tongued demon's shrill call cuts, (the relinquishment of power is not given easily)
As then they froze to best locate those zealots. (stop, look, and listen to the world to find the tools to bring the truth to them)

Gouged out brainpans, they hung in blooded cathedrals, (violence of the indoctrinated flows back into history, and still hangs on, feasting on the minds of the vulnerable)
Now ascendant to locating the highest installs. (?hark the rise of science upon high, the road of truth sets the scene of all?)

The elementals melt before the Phallanx of Truth's transcendancy,
 
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Hows about we do a collective poem, one line each, rhyming couplets? (lets join in one movement for science, for truth)
The misty mountain was drenched in droplets, (for the world is covered by life)

Which reflected rainbows of light, (potential of which is bright)
Showing the particolors lone and bright. (diversity itself being the strength)

Beneath the mountain a dark presence lurked, (but history has a demon lurking)
And so on down from the summit they searched. (so knowledge/belief not being enough the source of the truth is still sought)

Through tunnels dark the Elders flew fast, (the learned humans look with fervour)
As thus they could surprise what it hast. (seeking to topple in enlightenment entrenched belief)

Dark tongued demon's shrill call cuts, (the relinquishment of power is not given easily)
As then they froze to best locate those zealots. (stop, look, and listen to the world to find the tools to bring the truth to them)

Gouged out brainpans, they hung in blooded cathedrals, (violence of the indoctrinated flows back into history, and still hangs on, feasting on the minds of the vulnerable)
Now ascendant to locating the highest installs. (?hark the rise of science upon high, the road of truth sets the scene of all?)

The elementals melt before the Phallanx of Truth's transcendancy,
As the ever-present, wishful fantasy remains for them to fancy.
 
The Bypass

They ran into a person carrying a large clock.

“There are not enough hours in the day’s diadem,”
The clock-man complained to both of them.

“What are you spending the time of your life on?”

“The same old drudgery; what I have to do.
Usually nothing that’s new,
For there are too many customary obligations due.”

“And what do you do during the rest of your time?”

“Well, nothing really that I ought to do,
But there are lots of rites and rituals, even new,
That I must certainly attend to.”

“So you feel that you have to do them?”

“I guess so. There are many routines in life’s gem.”

“Or ruts; more than a few.
When will you do
What you really want to do?

“Oh, someday, I guess—not sure—
There will be many days in the future.”

“So, let me get this straight, this to-do:
You put off your life, and ever do,
Acting as if you have forever, too,
Then complain that the hours are too few!”

They left him behind, his traces,
One of those hopeless cases
Who knew very well what was the situation,
Yet did nothing to change its ration.

“You can lead ‘em to life,
But you can’t make ‘em live.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Vy2D0Dm6b8
 
Hows about we do a collective poem, one line each, rhyming couplets? (lets join in one movement for science, for truth)
The misty mountain was drenched in droplets, (for the world is covered by life)

Which reflected rainbows of light, (potential of which is bright)
Showing the particolors lone and bright. (diversity itself being the strength)

Beneath the mountain a dark presence lurked, (but history has a demon lurking)
And so on down from the summit they searched. (so knowledge/belief not being enough the source of the truth is still sought)

Through tunnels dark the Elders flew fast, (the learned humans look with fervour)
As thus they could surprise what it hast. (seeking to topple in enlightenment entrenched belief)

Dark tongued demon's shrill call cuts, (the relinquishment of power is not given easily)
As then they froze to best locate those zealots. (stop, look, and listen to the world to find the tools to bring the truth to them)

Gouged out brainpans, they hung in blooded cathedrals, (violence of the indoctrinated flows back into history, and still hangs on, feasting on the minds of the vulnerable)
Now ascendant to locating the highest installs. (?hark the rise of science upon high, the road of truth sets the scene of all?)

The elementals melt before the Phallanx of Truth's transcendancy,
As the ever-present, wishful fantasy remains for them to fancy.

The final act sees a city of diamond flourish below the world,
 
Madonna with the Golden Arms

Madonna with the Golden Arms

Madonna with the golden arms, K lined in all
your special charms, lift my dark regretamine
and restore my shredded soul.

I’ll sleep the righteous torpid haze; K holed
in cosmic Ketamine, respiration eats my thoughts.
I’m as big as God and a vectored nought.

Flickering in my purple fog, I inhaled the trip,
tripphendrix. And for all the worlds my fingers
brushed I found no end of Katie’s tricks.

Ketapillar! I then climb the couch to shift my
mind and make it bounce, the goddess played
her challenge out. My the door knobs turned to
something else.

I took and crystals solid dose and burned away
the inner ghosts. But Ket land is where I’m haunted
most, by riddle telling therianthropes.

Unicorn splashed with Kate once more, she’s with
me as I search for more. We’ll Ketaspin into that hole
once more; who needs this world? We have our score.

Madonna with the golden arms embrace me with your
certainty, please free my chained reality. Restore my
shredded soul.
 
Plastic Fantastic Lover

Her neon mouth with the blinkers-off smile
Nothing but an electric sign
You could say she has an individual style
She's part of a colorful time

Secrecy of lady-chrome-covered clothes
You wear cause you have no other
But I suppose no one knows
You're my plastic fantastic lover
Her rattlin' cough never shuts off
Is nothin' but a used machine
Her aluminum finish, slightly diminished
Is the best I ever have seen

Cosmetic baby plugged into me
I'd never ever find another
I realize no one's wise
To my plastic fantastic lover

The electrical dust is starting to rust
Her trapezoid thermometer taste
All the red tape is mechanical rape
Of the TV program waste

Data control and IBM
Science is mankind's brother
But all I see is drainin' me
On my plastic fantastic lover
 
Hows about we do a collective poem, one line each, rhyming couplets? (lets join in one movement for science, for truth)
The misty mountain was drenched in droplets, (for the world is covered by life)

Which reflected rainbows of light, (potential of which is bright)
Showing the particolors lone and bright. (diversity itself being the strength)

Beneath the mountain a dark presence lurked, (but history has a demon lurking)
And so on down from the summit they searched. (so knowledge/belief not being enough the source of the truth is still sought)

Through tunnels dark the Elders flew fast, (the learned humans look with fervour)
As thus they could surprise what it hast. (seeking to topple in enlightenment entrenched belief)

Dark tongued demon's shrill call cuts, (the relinquishment of power is not given easily)
As then they froze to best locate those zealots. (stop, look, and listen to the world to find the tools to bring the truth to them)

Gouged out brainpans, they hung in blooded cathedrals, (violence of the indoctrinated flows back into history, and still hangs on, feasting on the minds of the vulnerable)
Now ascendant to locating the highest installs. (?hark the rise of science upon high, the road of truth sets the scene of all?)

The elementals melt before the Phallanx of Truth's transcendancy,
As the ever-present, wishful fantasy remains for them to fancy.

The final act sees a city of diamond flourish below the world,
The shimmering and glittering radiations of light unfurled.
 
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The Planets

The two walked down to the waterside.
Warm breezes were blowing from the west side.
The sun was low and so there was a wealth
Of diamonds sparkling on the water—a glittering health.

They filled their cups there
And raised a toast to the zephyr:

“To nature!
May it ever run through us, bare,
And we through the air!
Life’s love runs deep on a summer afternoon after.
May we ever float on its currents thereafter.”

For dinner they ate the nuts and berries,
Along with some rhubarb and guavas.
They also had a few clams from the water.

Night was falling,
And soon the planets came out, calling,
Just ahead of the stars, as they always did.

“There’s Mars and Venus!” she exclaimed, pointing.
“Mars is the fourth planet from the sun’s anointing
And Venus is the second one appointing.”

“What a pair they are, he answered of,
“For Mars represents war and Venus represents love.”

“And here we are on the Earth, the third planet more,
Situated between those opposites of love and war.”

“Here on Earth we live in a perfect state of balance,
Although it is a state that’s rather delicate;
We’re a blend of war and peace,
Passion and reason’s lease,
Sobriety and drunkenness,
Adventurousness and foolishness,
Violence and forgiveness.
That is our life, no less!
Oh, it’s such a tenuous state of awareness.”

“We must walk the tightrope, the test,
Balancing there, never-the-less,
Between the foolish and the reckless.
It’s the point between up and down,
The point between day and sundown,
As that of half light dusk or dawn.”

“Indeed, the greatest blunder in this life done
Is to continually fear that you might make one.”

“Your passion is so reasonable
In this state of awareness able.”

“And your reasoning is so passionate!”

“That reminds me of a poetic joke,
From the poet Byron’s yoke,
Though I’ve extended it slightly,
But, as you know, rightly,
There is some truth behind all jokes, rightly:”

Let us have wine, lovers, song, and laughter;
Water, chastity, prayer the day after.
Such, we’ll alternate the rest of our days—
On the average, we’ll make hereafter!

“It’s funny, but true—a real golden mean.”

“By our nature we’re all a mixture had,
Of both the good and the bad.”

“Yes, there is a beast within us, live,
But it helps us to survive.
It is the reason that we dance and dreamest,
The reason that we feel and live with zest.
It makes us push and try and climb the crest.
Without this beast within us named,
life would be so boringly tame.”

“We’d be perfect angels.”

“But—we wouldn’t be us.”

“So—all’s right with the world’s quiz—
Just the way it is.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07t0bqie-5Y
 
Yesterday
Beatles

Yesterday,
All my troubles seemed so far away,
Now it looks as though they're here to stay,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

Suddenly,
I'm not half the man I used to be,
There's a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

Why she
Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said,
Something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play,
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

Why she
Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said,
Something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play,
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
 
The Awakening

Here’s a collective of one line each, rhyming couplets:
(lets join in one movement for science, for truth)
The misty mountain was drenched in droplets,
(for the world is covered by life and proof)

Which reflected rainbows of light
(the potential of which is bright at length)
Showing the particolors lone and bright.
(this diversity itself being the strength)

Beneath the mountain a dark presence lurked,
(for history has a demon lurking)
And so on down from the summit they searched.
(so belief not being enough of the searching
the source of the truth must be sought over preaching)

Through tunnels dark the Elders flew fast,
(the learned humans looked on with fervor)
As thus they could surprise what it hast.
(seeking to topple entrenched belief going further)

Dark tongued demon's shrill call cuts,
(the relinquishment of power is not given easily by fools)
As then they froze to best locate those zealots
(stop, look, and listen to the world to find the tools)

Gouged out brainpans, they hung in blooded cathedrals,
(violence of the indoctrinated flows back into history’s thrall,
and still hangs on, feasting on the minds of the vulnerable)
We ascendant to locating the highest installs.
(hark, the rise of science upon high,
the road of truth sets the scene of nigh)

The elementals melt before the Phalanx of Truth's transcendency,
As the ever-present, wishful fantasy remains for them to fancy.

The final act sees a city of diamond flourish below the world,
The shimmering and glittering radiations of light unfurled.

The performance is now over its tasks;
The artists have taken off their masks.
The illusion is fading; it cannot last;
The scenes behind are appearing fast.

Once the scenery is burnt out back
On the bonfires of religious tradition’s rack,
And the embers have cooled of their prefects,
Up from the ashes will rise a bird so free and perfect
That its beauty will cut through the miasmal dew
Formed steam of false parade to inspire more than a few
Of the burnt-out-nest dwellers to curlicue upwards
On the heated thermal of the firebird’s
(a)wake(ning).
 
Venus and the Moon

They laid back on the land,
Looking at the night sky again.

“See there,” he pointed, thus,
“The moon is in a conjunction with Venus.”

“I can hear them speaking. Listen.”

The moon, representing cold chaste reason,
Said to Venus, with logic’s cool season,
“Quench thy inner fire, fool,
Lest it destroy us and all the heaven’s rule.”

Venus, goddess of love and passion, answered cool,
“I only know WHAT I feel, not WHY, fool!
So—I must be the one to rule!”

“Don’t confuse me with feelings,” said the moon.

“And don’t you confuse me with facts,” said Venus.

“I guess we can’t always understand each other’s laws,”
The moon finally admitted, after a long pause,
Having reasoned it out—the cause.
You have feelings I could never understand as real.
I have reasons you could never feel.
Let us try our best to temper each other’s flare and flair,
And then let’s take it from there.”

“Otherwise, some of your decisions would be heartless,”
Said Venus, non-the-less.

“And sometimes your actions will be illogical,”
Answered the moonlit prodigal.

“But I’ll still do WHAT I feel is right,” said Venus,
“And sometimes you can tell me WHY, that fuss,
Although it may not always matter to us.”

“OK,” said the moon to her,
“We’ll try to work together.
Peace to you of no plan.
Perhaps I am beginning to understand
This thing called feeling whole.
Perhaps, emotions play a large role
In making decisions told.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hd7koqFp9U0
 
The Minstrel Song

Moody Blues


Words a simple song
A minstrel sings
A way of life in his eyes
Hear the morning call
of waking birds
When they are singing, bringing
Love - love.
Everywhere love is all around,
Everywhere love is all around.

Now the winter's gone
Cold wind has blown
The endless stream in our lives
Where the minstrel sings
This simple song
He's always bringing, singing,
Love - love.
Everywhere love is all around,
Everywhere love is all around.

Listen to the one
Who sings of love.
Follow our friend,
Our wandering friend,
Listen to the one,
Who sings of love.
Everywhere love is around,
Around, around.

Here the nations sing
Our minstrel's song,
As he walks by in their lives
Soon the spring will come,
And everyone will all be
singing, bringing
Love - love
Everywhere love is all around,
Everywhere love is all around.

Listen to the one
Who sings of love.
Follow our friend,
Our wandering friend,
Listen to the one,
Who sings of love.
Everywhere love is around,
Around, around.

http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&sour...hfWBBg&usg=AFQjCNFYlL6sB9C-zWcpipX-pB8EMtTB5w
 
The Poor Sultan

Starlight stabbed the utter darkness of night,
Causing new ideas to wink in their joined light,
As sparkling thoughts from the eternal flame,
As all the while the Cosmos played rhythm
To their merged and singing souls unimprisioned.

The night winds began to blow the freeze,
So the lovers nestled deeper into the leaves.

“Hold me, it’s getting cooler, the nips,”
She said when they were under their cloaks,
Using them for blankets.

He held her snug, in the sack,
His front against her back,
Spooning, not forking,
Until they were warm and soaking.

Then she turned and kissed him.

“As long as love’s kisses can live,” I know,
“Neither age nor wear on our life will show.”

He sighed, growing younger still,
For their love was very beautiful.

“We are wealthier than
The richest Sultan.”

“I pity the poor Sultan
Even with his status and power far,
He’s not as free to live as we are.”

“Yes, we are poor but rich, free yet home,
Famous but unknown.”

“And the poor Sultan is stuck on his throne.”

“And we’re immersed in the glove
Of the boundless stream of love,
Whereas the Sultan has only them—
His paid-for-love harem.”

“I’m realizing you now, whole,
With my whole body, mind, heart, and soul.”

“They work well together, don’t they?”

“Of course, they were built togetherly,
And so they weren’t meant to operate separately.”

“Love is reason enough for all that we do.”

“Through love, all things are possible and new.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92ZVIjcjvC8
 
The End

The Doors

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end


Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again


Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...stranger's hand
In a...desperate land


Lost in a Roman...wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah


There's danger on the edge of town
Ride the King's highway, baby
Weird scenes inside the gold mine
Ride the highway west, baby


Ride the snake, ride the snake
To the lake, the ancient lake, baby
The snake is long, seven miles
Ride the snake...he's old, and his skin is cold


The west is the best
The west is the best
Get here, and we'll do the rest


The blue bus is callin' us
The blue bus is callin' us
Driver, where you taken' us


The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he
Paid a visit to his brother, and then he
He walked on down the hall, and
And he came to a door...and he looked inside
Father, yes son, I want to kill you
Mother...I want to...kill you


C'mon baby, take a chance with us
C'mon baby, take a chance with us
C'mon baby, take a chance with us
And meet me at the back of the blue bus
Doin' a blue rock
On a blue bus
Doin' a blue rock
C'mon, yeah


Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill


This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end


It hurts to set you free
But you'll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die


This is the end
 
Pillow Talk

“Let us talk of love;
Let us say what it is and glory in it, love”
She requested of.

“The truth of all truths is love.”

“What is the ultimate source of love?”

“Perhaps its source springs from Heaven above?”

Its rhythm resonates within us,
In depths unheard of,
Plus, the rhyme of ‘above’ for ‘love’
Is worn out, love.”

“Where is it of?
Also, ‘of’ is a good rhyme for ‘love’.”

“Somewhere deep,
Beneath all our words and thoughts, it seeps,
Somewhere in our unsounded fathomless deeps,
Even that beneath which stirs
The bonding hormones, sir.”

“What is love?”

“Love is giving—with no motive toward
Getting anything back returnward.
There’s not even a hint of taking toward
Involved in giving love, because, for sure,
Taking is the opposite of giving pure.”

“Of course; I will graciously receive
Whatever is given to me,
But I will never take it.
I will never ask for it.
I will never demand it.
I will never enclose you in a cage.
In fact, I will enhance your range
So you can give an even better range
Of love to all those of the world’s change.”

“So true; even unearned.”

“Let us give kindness learned,
To everyone in turn.”

“Yes, because if you keep your love,
You will have nothing to speak of.”

“And if you give your love,
You will have everything of!”

“Love is more than meant
By words of sentiment—
Love is action sent.”

“Yes, one small and lovely action meant
Weighs much more on the scale, in cents,
Than an infinite number of sentiments!”

“Sharing and caring are the reasons for giving.”

“Love grows for friends and lovers
When they let it flow freely to others,
Beyond any confines few.
One wants their partner’s day
To be fulfilled in every way,
Even if those pursuits take
That partner away for a while.”

“Unconditional love can never bind—it bonds.”

“I give love to everyone, at any rate,
In whatever way is appropriate.”

“There is a lot of love which can be given.
Love never gets used up! It’s a boundless heaven.”

“I, too, have found it
That the capacity for love is infinite.
Arithmetic does not apply to love’s theory,
For when love is divided amongst the many,
It is not diminished in any way, but refreshed.
Sure, the time spent is diminished,
But not the love—one can still love fully!
In fact, each love seems to outgrow the box—
To exceed the entire lot.
That’s the paradox!”

“There’s no good reason to ever withhold love.
Why consign someone to cold oblivion’s shove
By not sharing with them your love?
Of course, some must do otherwise of,
Out of tradition and moral method wise,
Or from bonding and commitment tries.”

“Give all the love you can give,
And then some, to live.”

“Yes, since the sum of love’s parts
Exceeds the whole cart,
One can keep on giving and giving love,
Never the less of.”

“And, with a such many faceted life,
One improves, quelling strife,
And then one can give even more fun
Thereafter, as a more complete person.”

“Yes, life is more like a vast mosaic done
Than a focused beam of the sun.
There are many parts of the collage of one.”

“That’s because few outside
And lengthy pleasures are lent to our skies;
We must therefore build the sun,
A stained-glass window of small ones.”

“Yes, every piece of the puzzle, lover,
Is just as important as every other,
For together they support each other
And make up the entire picture,
A masterpiece.
It takes a lot of pieces
To fit around all of a person’s sides.
No one interest can match one on every side.”

(Love, when divided, diminishes not)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKwbLrNABGA
 
Love Continued

“A complete life sparkles like a diamond.
Each facet of the diamond
Contributes its view of the world
And adds to the lustrous effect of the swirl.”

“Friends and interests are, it seems,
The shimmering glints and gleams
Of reality’s sparkling beams.”

“Each face of the diamond’s blazes
Enriches the view of the other faces.”

“All of the facets reflect off each other,
Combining and then building another,
Into the overall brilliance of life’s colors.”

“Which makes you a more rounded person.”

“Which in turn adds to the luster
Of your individual pursuits after.”

“Which therefore makes, fitting the bill,
The diamond even brighter still,
And so forth, and so on—
It is a self perpetuating bond,
And of infinite growth beyond.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scN2dZo3aZ8
 
Molly’s Kisses

Molly’s Kisses

Impacted, merged with the glass,
dead timed. A shard herself, she
screamed. A suspended cry that
stopped one breath before she did.

The glass glinted as did her eyes;
the glints merged in a blood splashed
blur of thickened air and grinding
steel.

Where two roads meet, the white-faced
drivers stared at the sorry wreak. And
at Molly crucified at the crossroads.
Causing a jam for a little while.

22 years and sunk in a bitumen sea,
u-turned into oblivion. Stretched out and
measured, parts all counted with the boxes
all ticked.

White lips never again to know my kisses;
it’s not really Molly! This stigmataed thing,
all sectionally sorted with the forms all signed.

She’s still at the cross roads, and maybe those
that pass that place will feel her spectral kisses,
and find peace as their wheels touch the tarmac
that Molly’s blood sanctified.
 
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The End of Something


Never is it good to celebrate death
even that of a mortal enemy

Each life is precious - a fold in the fabric
a fist raised against the uncaring universe


Kenny A. Chaffin – 5/2/2011
 
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