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be random what is now when is then where is email who i am how it is why it is leave a note? share me, share you make me smile thank you other journals (of course I should be sleeping) (what's life got to do with it?) about me (too much to know at once) friend? (tic tic tic, toc) BE MY GUEST (BOOK) << MISSING �SOMETHING? >> the bottom line who can when i had the time the first of december (has another song) what i do < ? me # > < ? harrychapin # > < ? Random Acts of Journaling # > < ? Poetic Voices # > < ? The Write Club # > < ? Nights Awake # > < ? Fluid # > < ? Adopted # > < ? Childlike # > < ? Poets-Muse # > < ? Five Hundred # > < ? As You Wish # > temporary place holder ()))CRAYON-BOX)))> published blogmad! varb? �2015 CANDOR COMMUNICATIONS IF YOU WANT TO USE THE WORDS FOR ANY REASON TALK TO ME |
of sense and sensibility I did intend to come here and catch up with all of you (ah, the many few), for there are entries in pieces written daily just waiting for the time to be put somewhat together and edited a bit and uploaded... ah, but all that does take time and we know all about the distractions and the unfortunate need to work a full time job in order to pay for survival in this world (I know, it's quite the shameful predicament, but when a foolishly generous soul gives away fortunes and fames and everything for love, such sacrifices must be endured)... and of course it is so timely that Sense and Sensibility should be the distraction of the moment... ah, what less distraction it would be if someone would share it with me...
that love comes in a moment has been known for the ages as bards and poets plenty have filled the many pages with passion plays and sage tears and promises beyond years that longing baits the last breath desire deems to dare death that trust comes in a moment has teased the heart forever as haunting taunting terror as fickle tickled pleasure for childen are we inside where hears have nothing to hide virtue compels seduction as form follows function that life comes in a moment has blessed the birthing mother the father and grandparents the sister and the brother as innocents we do inhale upon preciousness impale but saving grace brings frailty of sense and sensibility that truth shall be the noble vice that will alone shall sacrifice in virtue passion pays a price then would we dare to think it twice that worlds should fall apart where rules govern the heart and proper play of pursuit requires the gown and the suit if noble dress and noble deed is more important than the need then slam the door and douse the fire and never reach a moment higher return the night from whit it came compress passion into shame and play life for fortune and fame but never dare enjoy the game oh, dear... next we'll be having children running through graveyards with fancy ribbons on sticks while church bells ring and people shout exhuberant accolades of great cheer... this, of course, is dedicated most humbly to all those who truly believe in keeping up pretenses... and for all the rest of you, rasberries...
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I love you all for coming... for reading all these words for every click feels like more love (I know that sounds absurd) if I could only tell you... one thing more tonight I'd say I wish you could come home with me and be my friends for life |