Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
L'aura del campo 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos' ♣ Federico García Lorca ♣ L'aura del campo. A breeze in the meadow. So it began the last day of Spring, 2005; on the 16th day of the month of Light of the year 162. This is a supplement to my daily journal written to a friend, my muse; notes I do not share. Here I will share what the breeze has whispered to me. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I LV COMMENTS! On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links: These pictures rotate. Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
YOU SHALL NOT BE NAMED Hiss all you want, I'm pissed at how you only think of yourself, how 'others' are always to blame. I'm tired of your f***ing games that reduce me to tears, trigger my fears, demean me. I can't wait until you're history, when your tizzy-fits are known for the narcissism that it showed, a never-ending pulp fiction, a toilet-papered tantrum. I can't wait to forget your face, your fame obliterated, your petulance a mere footnote to this nightmarish loss, game over and thankfully done. May it come sooner than later. May God speed your demise. No, I won't pray for your health, bow to your wealth, kiss your white ass, nor mention your name. KE [177.43] (19.abril.2020) |