solution
solution
So what do you do?
The woman is there.
Though possessed by another
The understanding between the twixt of you
Complete
But the moment.
The moment is off.
So what do you do?
Ignore the possibilities?
They are there.
No denying.
But she is already engaged. So what?
Nothing?
The fools move.
Confess your feelings?
The possibility of retribution is slim.
So what?
I ask
Is the solution.
The woman is there.
Though possessed by another
The understanding between the twixt of you
Complete
But the moment.
The moment is off.
So what do you do?
Ignore the possibilities?
They are there.
No denying.
But she is already engaged. So what?
Nothing?
The fools move.
Confess your feelings?
The possibility of retribution is slim.
So what?
I ask
Is the solution.
Leave the letter that never begins to go find the latter that ever comes to end, written in smoke and blurred by mist and signed of solitude, sealed of night.
-James Joyce
-James Joyce
comment
Oi, it may be the vodka or the wine talking, but it has been a fucked up few months wherein I’ve lost the woman I’ve known, my children’s paternal bond, the main tool of my artistic possibilities and I' left with what? My piss poor poetic ratings, my so called job, and the possibility (though far fetched and unrealistic) of a meaningful relationship with a lovely coworker who may not be quite ready for my ideals. Oi! I guess i should just go drink some more and regret posting this in the morning.
Last edited by Shem on January 28th, 2008, 2:28 am, edited 1 time in total.
Leave the letter that never begins to go find the latter that ever comes to end, written in smoke and blurred by mist and signed of solitude, sealed of night.
-James Joyce
-James Joyce
double
Oi, there are things I would rather not repeat; I guess the scream of KATZ is supposed to release me.....
Leave the letter that never begins to go find the latter that ever comes to end, written in smoke and blurred by mist and signed of solitude, sealed of night.
-James Joyce
-James Joyce
Every moment a koan, every second a poem, every instance a pice of art missed.
if we live our lives artfully, then our lives will be a masterpice. i've heard that in the east they play at work and work at play, sounds like a sound ideal to me....
if we live our lives artfully, then our lives will be a masterpice. i've heard that in the east they play at work and work at play, sounds like a sound ideal to me....
Leave the letter that never begins to go find the latter that ever comes to end, written in smoke and blurred by mist and signed of solitude, sealed of night.
-James Joyce
-James Joyce
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 6 guests