This Time

(bluesy type song)

take a chance, girl
don’t be stupid this time
take a chance, girl
you won’t be stupid this time

you don’t what to do
he sings her praises in bed
he doesn’t think of you
and it’s getting to your head

take a chance, girl
don’t be stupid this time
you don’t stand a chance, girl
but at least you’ll know why

well I’ll tell you what to do
when he plays with your mind
don’t let it get to you
and see what else you can find

take a chance, girl
don’t be stupid this time
one hard romance, girl
can only kill you one time

you don’t what to do
he sings her praises in bed
he’ll never think of you
he thinks of nothing instead

you took a chance, girl
you weren’t stupid this time
di’n’t stand a chance, girl
so stop wastin’ your time
stop wastin’ your time
stop wastin’, wastin’ your time

      

     

Copyright L.M. 2008.

Advertisements

Day 4

  Today we went golfing!  I didn’t do so badly, but had a couple rotten holes and ended with a 43….. still not a bad score if it mattered to me  haha   😉

  What was neat though were the little bonuses on the course: there was a roseate spoonbill hangin out on Hole 6, a tree with a large, active bees’ nest, and that tree itself was neat because it had some sort of hanging tubers that had lumps that appeared to open into a flower….. very very strange.  Wow!  Just out of curiosity (and not expecting such a quick result), I did a quick search for “tropical tree”, went to the first site, and guessed at a name that might fit — sausage tree.  http://mgonline.com/Sausage_Tree.html  Would you believe it?  I think it may have actually been that kind of tree!  Ahh, the internet is a wonderful thing.

  After golfing, we went to our friends’ place for a pizza lunch.  Very tasty, very fun.  I had a tickle in my throat that I couldn’t get rid of though, so I was going nuts trying not to cough every two seconds.  A couple funny jokes were told, let me see if I can remember any.

  Two men got up to the gates of Heaven and were addressed by Saint Peter.  Saint Peter asked the first man, dressed in a leather jacket, shades, and slicked back hair, “…..and who are you?”  The man replied, “I’m Derek Smith, and I’ve been a pilot for 31 years.”  Saint Peter looks at his list, exclaims, “Ah!  There you are,” and gives him a golden staff, a silk robe, and lets him through the gates.  The second man walks up to Saint Peter and is also asked who he is, to which he replies, “I’m John Brown, and I’ve been a priest for 31 years.”  Saint Peter consults his list, exclaims, “Ah!  There you are,” and gives him a wooden staff, and a cotton robe.  The man pauses a moment, then asks, “Why, Saint Peter, I can’t help but notice a discrepancy here….. that man was a pilot and got a golden staff and a silk robe, while I was a priest and only got a wooden staff and a cotton robe!”  Saint Peter replies, “Ah, yes.  Well, here in Heaven, we go by results.  You were a priest, and have made people fall asleep for 31 years, but he was a pilot and made people pray!”

hee hee.    🙂

Passed Presence

yesterday I did a lot that will be forgotten
during the day
and upon arrival of the night I sat
within sight of stars and a friend
unable to contain my joy
I don’t care what it meant
it was part of my present

the little questions that crawl
slithering like wily wordsmiths
stab of criminality
inauthenticity
pressure
but I ignore them all
for whatever was meant
was all part of my present

I never ignore the truth
but sometimes it takes a while
and processing asks a fee
when something requires action
it finds a way of surfacing
and regardless of intent
it was all part of my present

if there is a problem with my words
perhaps it’s my turn for the blame?
well, that’s alright, I am strong
I know who I am
and I know what I need
I ask no one’s consent
to take part in my present

moderation is essential
and those who judge harshly
will lead a boring existence
for rules and standards and doctrines
bastardize life
where any threat of deviance
begins the cycle of torments
I live by me and my present

I should not be misunderstood
we all need a conscience
but show me a tribunal
for all our small misdeeds
and I will show you a hymnal
that touts many creeds
so you will see, and thus lament
your state of being, your sole attempt
and every hour you might repent
but I shall bask in my present

why care you of their dissent
life itself bids you relent
she mourns so many lives unspent
tomes filled with these nonevents

the only one you represent
is you, so follow your intent
it is your world to reinvent
and do what makes you most content

now should I like to end my words
with you
right here
my dear
I shall

Copyright L.M. 2007. (originally posted here at 2:15 a.m. tonight.).

Stalemate

I have a sight
I thought somewhere near
takes me a while to
to…..
well I should have lost it
perhaps
maybe
somehow
did
inside it burns
and I shiver
you know it’s cold
so very cold

I’m not hopeless
just delusional
apparently
and to make up
for all the lost time
somehow started
to believe in fairytales
masochistic? probably
I’ve heard it heals
or bides time
with other distraction
sort of like me
I guess that’s ironic
but really, not hopeless
that’s part problem
you see why
it’s the hope that kills
if I were numb
oh to be numb
I would lose fear
I would lose pain
I would lose anger
I would lose love
well, you’ve taught me
you can’t win them all
in my year of luck
my precious months
a troubled match
a frightened soul
helped onto my plate
peppered with perfection
here and there
and when that bell begins
I will be a mistake
and another chapter
in a drama
whose clout extends
far beyond
the amusing present time

I’m sleepless
and you know why
and you won’t tell me

I’m walking the lines
with chains around my neck
ball bearings in my throat
and hands behind my back
and I say “I’m starved”
and you say you’re tired
but give me food
that I can’t eat, smell, see
and say it ought to be enough
but death takes its toll
bending all rules
portraying life as such
well you feel remorse
but upon the next
bestow a fresh nothing
ready to be devoured
and kill another
just like before me
me
and after me

I’m still sleepless
could you tell me why?

I did have a dream though
yes I had to wake you up
you transformed
into the jerk
and I couldn’t get you to leave
I awoke frightened
with the door open

do you realize
character and honesty
can both be judged
by ignoring words altogether
and looking
solely
on what you do

so in this pretend world
this fantasy of yours
some things bleed
into mine
and I try to see
subtract the you
subtract the me
to look right through
to reality
but look at me
I play the fool
I’m just the tool
to set you free
of memory
of any need
of honesty
responsibility
respectability
honour, value
worth, and truth
you see, all these
I could be for you
but that fantasy
well it bleeds too
into one which you
have saved for me
I still can’t sleep
and I blame you

Copyright L.M. 2007.

I skip it cuz I love it so

In the morning, I’m a very picky eater.

Whatever I eat usually can’t contain: milk, eggs, can’t be too sweet, can’t be too plain, can’t be acidic (no juices unless I’m having a bread product), and definitely can’t be sour.  Usually if I eat something, it’s probably bad for me and isn’t exactly going to propel me through the day.  😛   Now you know why most days I skip eating in the mornings!

On the other hand, if I’ve managed to have something small after waking up, about an hour later I can eat any breakfast food.  Except sour.  I still dislike sour.  haha.

Ironically, I love breakfast foods.  Life can be cruel!  😉

Inspection

“you don’t know me,
and you don’t even care”

breath is disappearing
somewhere deep inside of me
somewhere numb and bleeding
there’s a whole lung gone
I knew I couldn’t be wrong
and now I die inside
wondering wondering why
the birds are circling
they knew all along
a poor idiot like me
was sure to be a target
so spare me my excellence
spare me my time
just spare me

I liked it when I was young
innocence was fine
nothing expected of me
and I upstaged life
but when did the stage fall
when did I lose hope
when will I breathe again
please, let me breathe again
please let me be
me
        

       

Copyright L.M. 2007.  (written a couple months ago, quote from Augustana’s song “Boston”. don’t worry, I know the poem isn’t good haha).

Maybe he feels the Earth’s rotation…..

Later the same day of the asparagus man encounter, I went into a little shop because I had never been before.  There was a little boy and his mom behind the counter generally occupying themselves with papers and toys.  As I was passing them on my way out of the store, I heard the little boy ask:

“Mom, why is the ground moving?”

I think the funniest part was that I looked at the mother, who was nonchalantly answering his question (too quietly for me to hear), and her expression was completely unaffected, as if this was a normal type of question to be asked of a child standing on solid ground…..