Regardless of what people say, follow your inner flame Once you do, your life will never be the same Many friends will leave you, leaving only the true to remain Those who feel less, will attempt to put you to shame But never stop following that burning passion that exist within you For the rewards are far greater than following the lost crew
Irregardless of what peolpe say, follow an outward flame Once you do, your life will always be the same Many friends will leave you, leaving only the false to remain Those who feel more, will attempt to make you take blame But never stop following that burning passion that exists within your loins And grab her right in the pussy.
Looking into your eyes, i see my reflection Unmatched beauty, untouched perfection Holding back emotions so my heart won't burst May we hold hands together and explore the earth Marking the beginning of an unknown journey between us For now i sit, awaiting your presents, relying on trust May you find your way in my arms where i know you are safe Hang in there champ
I've been good, thanks. I've been spending a lot of time in the rabbit hole but don't seem to feel the need to come to the surface and pretend to be normal, lol
Yes, i understand. I hate pretending too. I'm horrible at it, hence i keep to myself, even out in public. Love that picture.
It's nice that we connect so easily on here. Relating on a level without attachment is a form of poetry and so is appropriate for this thread I feel. Anyways, it's good to look into your mind again and be reminded that there are people on this computer who have a little depth. And so, to keep up my end of this connection, I posted a blog on here today that you might find entertaining. http://www.hipforums.com/forum/blog/6/entry-294-hippie-witch/
Thanks for sharing. A beautiful story with lots of wisdom from it. I'm glad we can relate in a similar way.
People get close than become distant Relationships with me are never consistent They push or pull, i offer little to no resistant I neither chase nor run, yet happy to be an assistant People come and go, indulging, yet free from my existent
Cold wind blowing Its still snowing The pile keeps growing Traffic slowing Children snowball throwing Tow trucks towing I'd rather be out mowing Waiting for spring to start showing
Winter does get old, especially if you have to go out in it to make things happen. Good to know you are still alive and kicking.
I am not a poet myself, but always think of the words of William Wordsworth when I walk across Westminster bridge at dawn. Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!
Poems often make me reflect on the meanings of life and where it all leads us to. All so often pointless. It was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done, And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun, And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine. She saw her brother Peterkin Roll something large and round, Which he beside the rivulet In playing there had found; He came to ask what he had found, That was so large, and smooth, and round. Old Kaspar took it from the boy, Who stood expectant by; And then the old man shook his head, And, with a natural sigh, "'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory. "I find them in the garden, For there's many here about; And often when I go to plough, The ploughshare turns them out! For many thousand men," said he, "Were slain in that great victory." "Now tell us what 'twas all about," Young Peterkin, he cries; And little Wilhelmine looks up With wonder-waiting eyes; "Now tell us all about the war, And what they fought each other for." "It was the English," Kaspar cried, "Who put the French to rout; But what they fought each other for, I could not well make out; But everybody said," quoth he, "That 'twas a famous victory. "My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by; They burnt his dwelling to the ground, And he was forced to fly; So with his wife and child he fled, Nor had he where to rest his head. "With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide, And many a childing mother then, And new-born baby died; But things like that, you know, must be At every famous victory. "They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won; For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun; But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory. "Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, And our good Prince Eugene." "Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!" Said little Wilhelmine. "Nay... nay... my little girl," quoth he, "It was a famous victory. "And everybody praised the Duke Who this great fight did win." "But what good came of it at last?" Quoth little Peterkin. "Why that I cannot tell," said he, "But 'twas a famous victory."