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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)
(tic tic tic, toc)


the bottom line
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when i had the time
the first of december (has another song)
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temporary place holder




and the telling of secrets

something that was lost (is that The Beautiful South?)... and in my mind a voice says Prefab Sprout... a deeper voices says Jane Oliver, a darker voice says Gavin Friday, and further within, Tim Rice's Gesthemane... and in my dreams, last night, I think I heard The Telling... or will it be tonight... saved by the music, thank you Justin and John... my muses of music come to soothe and stir haunting memories when only bits and pieces echo through my mind... even the most content giggles of the most happy child an not hide the sorrow deeper within, for anyone with eyes that see or ears that hear can not avoid the human condition, though must supplant reality with fantasy and leave the truth deep in their subconscious, it remains... there is no place else for us to go...

"time has a wonderful way of weeding out the trivial" - Richard Ben Sapir

if we are lucky, we remember the things that brought us the feeling of togetherness, the thoughts that gave us the feeling of being whole... if we are wise, we nurture these thoughts and hold on the the feelings... and if we are normal, today, in this world... we do not...

why is it more acceptible to be falling apart than to be coming together?... is it the ancient religious teachings that are based on nurturing human weakness and dependency on external powers and fantasies or is it an inherent flaw in the human genome that insecurity dominates our experience of life?... it does not matter much to me how it all began, evolution or god, what matters more is are we being created or destroyed... are we nurtured or undermined by our beliefs... what is the practical value, the tangible worth, the empirical results of our philosophies...

"Actions are held to be good or bad, not on their own merits, but according to who does them. There is almost no kind of outrage torture, imprisonment without trial, assassination, the bombing of civilians which does not change its moral color when it is committed by 'our' side ... The nationalist not only does not disapprove of atrocities committed by his own side, he has a remarkable capacity for not even hearing about them." ~ George Orwell

how is it that most all of humanity professes beliefs that demand goodness and kindness and loving neighbors when the bulk or human actions reflect the opposite of such beliefs?... and how is it that so many supposedly intelligent, educated people and leaders of people can turn a blind eye to the hypocrisy of hating and killing in the name of holiness or righteousness?... maybe, when we look up, we don't see what we think we see...

"When a mans verses cannot be understood, nor a mans good wit seconded with the forward child Understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical."
~ William Shakespeare

what words can create understanding in minds rejecting truth
long have old men been revered and cheered for sacrificing youth
are blood stained souls invisible to those so fearing death
that life must be erased by anyone possessing breath

long have the control freaks dominated humanity and perhaps, through divine intervention or natural selection or both, they will destroy themselves in the end... the question for the rest of us is how many will be left, in any, to carry on what might become of humanity... will any of the steaks of enlightened thought peering through the darkness of human history survive the self-destructive plans for domination, the self-engendered manifest destiny of mankind?...

"When you are dead you will lie forever unremembered and no one will miss you, for you have not touched the roses of the Pierian Muses. Invisible even in the house of Hades, you will wander among the dim dead, a flitting thing." ~ Sappho

oh, what dark night is this
that Sappho sings erotic tears
what message lost, brought such a kiss
that each Satan and Jesus fears

tell me, maestro, play a dream
conduct me to a better place
in time, promised, does it seem
like lost shapes of a lover's face

no, I won't cover my eyes
or close my ears as nature cries
if truth exists where hearts would die
to know that a god would lie

oh, what cruel world is this
that Eros silenced, withers long
what heaven lost, a hell or bliss
that cries out for another song

lost amidst the babbling waters, deep within rivers of words, adrift beneath oceans of ideas, a flower yearns to grow... and in spite of the influences drawing dark lines across the page, the heart beats with hope for that next breath of sunlight, for the taste of a tear of joy... within the weary carcass, beyond the hopeless gaze, under the cloak of tragedy, a smile longs to be kissed and kiss that flower and taste that tear and be reborn... patiently waiting for someone to care...

"Your friend is your needs answered. He is your field, whiceh you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. And he is your board and your fireside. For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace. When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the nay in your own mind, nor do you withhold the ay. And when he is silent, your heart ceases not to listen to his heart; for without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed. When you part from your friend, eeeeyou grieve not, for that which you love in him maybe clearer in his absence. As the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain. And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit. For love seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery. Is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught. And let your best be for your friend. If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also. For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill? Seek him always with hours to live. For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness. And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed." ~ Kahlil Gibran

what is this good for, this rhythm and rhyme
a song of the hope, the passion, the crime
and words wander wearily out of the mind
calling out heartbearts, awaiting your find

it's for proving we are here, for stating a case
for reaching out to the whole human race
advancing a cause, inviting a friend
sharing yourself as real or pretend

pictures and poetry, rhyming or prose
this is how a literary garden grows
reviews and the news, stories, rhapsodies,
essays that reflect your life or fantasies

all here in the diary, pretending alone
a universe unfolds that was thought, unknown
but there you are now, and hungry for more
are you still wondering, what this is for?

what this is for?... it's for all that it seems
and the telling of secrets, long lost in dreams


in the garden of a madhouse Meat!

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NOTE: Due to excessive comment SPAM, comments have been turned off... ironically, this month is the renewal for supergold membership and the comments feature... bad timing... you know how much I love feedback, so maybe there's be comments again one of these days... until then, please leave a note... thanks J

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