When love walks in the room…Everybody stand up! Oh, it is good, good, good. Like Brigitte Bardot!
Now look at the people in the streets, in the bars! WE are all of us in the gutter. But some of us are looking at the stars. Look around the room…Life is unkind. WE fall but we keep getting up! Over and over and over and over.
Me and you, every night, everyday. We’ll be together always this way. Your eyes are blue like the heavens above. Talk to me darlings…with a message of love.
Now the reasons WE are here…
Every man, every woman…
Is to help each other
Stand by each other
When love walks in the room…Everybody stand up…
Say, I love you, I love you,
over and over and over!
#Message of Love/CHRISSIE HYNDE
Shoot them!’: Trump laughs off a supporter’s demand for violence against migrants
Sometimes, I believe, my witnessing life…to be just me. The obvious… The oblivion…The hate before love. Appearing as if…a lost item in the woods. Something that no one else can see. Domesticated shows itself as…relative. The tamed and knowledgeable depleting understanding and wise.
It is as clear a thought… as a walk among the wild things. Something only the beastly and I…can see.
We can practice humility:
To speak as little as possible of one’s self.
To mind one’s own business.
Not to want to manage other people’s affairs.
To avoid curiosity.
To accept contradictions and correction cheerfully.
What if I came at you with such loose labels as; fag, dyke, nigger, towelhead?
Where did the labels and the name calling begin? Does it sit with me, a woman deemed by many to have no soul, a romantic vulture and/or a narcissist who is in it to win it?
Has my ego became so large that what seems like a Robin Hood idealism is nothing but a poorly painted shell without a psyche? Had I given into the thought of turning the tables? Helping a baby dyke with diaper changing? Allowed for a path to be shown and to which, every Ambien volunteer could veer right or left. Was the purposeful lesson of ‘dignity for all’ an idea that started from within and, slowing given the option to be drawn upon a photographer’s lens with no right or wrong picture…
Indeed, am I politically correct to consider my own kind denouncing ME and US by their own admission of ignorance and indifference a vagrant’s vain attempt of learning through osmosis?
Had I offered the nakedness of picture taking perfect as an easy out? A simplictic yes or no answer? A fourth grader’s mechanical choice of right or wrong?
Because my spotted calf had chosen what sat behind door number one, homophobic lesbianism,on her own…she personally went about slicing the throats of all who walked a similar beat. A decision made for the sake of ‘the highest reward’ a parent’s grace.
Had all the obvious roads not taken been made more childlike, a toddler would have sat in my bed. But that was not the case.
If there is not an equation set before the dumbfounded and confused what there ever be an answer? And,, does anyone have the right to choose our rights by ignoring the hard-earned paths of others.
Philanderer, philosopher or plain old, sex fiend…I suppose that would be a tough call.
Yet, when the offer of an open door policy is erected within the rules of couple-dom, is it not the choice that makes us moral or not?
I have decided this:
To an extent to which there have been so much bullying by indifference that a Pavlov’s Dog needed to come to life.
I hung the treat in front of the young and naïve subject’s mouth and offered reward and/or punishment.
How can it be when given these options there is no right or wrong, just a simple and complete means to an end: Choosing to work legitimately as most adults do/ Opting to work without acknowledgement of tax and therefore, indeed taking food from the mouths of the poor.
AmeriCorps/VISTA/FEMA exploiting the good nature of her republic by ignoring the simple facts; partying, dancing, karaoke, free housing and 24/7 access to social media versus: volunteering without pay for the sake of volunteering without need for reward other than self fulfillment.
Opting to choose the consequences of our behavior and/or hiding behind labels and faulty advertisement and hidden surnames.
We all have choices!
Point of the matter, the lack of prayer in the classroom, the distance between war and peace, the hatred for each other that derives itself from an unknown origin, all stems from our own ability to evade the choice which maybe difficult. The ulterior motives in all of us, once laid out like a fresh turd on a hot’s summer’s day is our downfall.
The Ambien’s, the Annie‘s, the Brittany‘s and the Jeremy‘s of our nation’s newest real reality show are but simple knock offs. For it is far easier to fashion one’s self to difference than proclaim the choice ourselves
Ambien at the beach!
I went to the beach not too long ago…Martha’s Vineyard! Of course, that is where you would find the highest population of white on white bodies needing to get over their over fed ideas on wealth and wisdom.
At the beach, Mother Theresa found a shell and stated to me:
Pick it up and hold it close to your one good ear, Ambien! You can hear your future in it!
I shook the water and ideas loose from my dyed to be blonde head and held the untidy shell close. Soon I would be hearing my life’s untold story!
Waiting and waiting some more. I listened intently for my up and coming events of saving the world with misspelled ‘big’ words and bequeathing the poor and impoverished one double scooped ice cream at a time. Thank Christ for an allowance.
What had my one good ear and my one soiled shell told me?
Not one fuckin’ thing! A crab scurried out, bit my ear and now I have crabs. I will never listen to Mummy or my future again!
Ambien, Annie, Gracie thought for the day:
“A small mind is a place where there is no place to go where you shouldn’t.”
I am Brangien [Brangaine] of Weisefort, Ireland, lady-in-waiting to my cousin Isolde, who became promised to King Marc of Cornwall. His nephew Tristan escorted us to England by ship. But Tristan and Isolde fell in love at sea. As ye may know, or will find out, they cite the philter they drank as the cause, over which I was supposed to keep vigil. I would like to share my perspective of how I have created good in the world through my herbs and observations. There is much to tell, including how I have adopted this odd language. In good time. My life is in God’s hands. –Inspired by the modern French translations of the Tristan and Isolde texts