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 |   Now a residence for BC and BCOF items. Random bloggisness wil apear in POTPOURRI. |
Hello!? Is anyone there?? Knock if you want in!    ~~Image #1500358 Sharing Restricted~~ ** Image ID #1646857 Unavailable **  This blog contains only items derived from specific prompts. I'm too stubborn to take the time to post the prompt that the entry is based on. So if you don't understand whats going on - well, I dunno - I guess that just means you don't understand. I would also like to invite you to take a look at my other blog:
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| All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream----Poe. BCOF Lucid dreaming I often do, and I KNOW I am awake. People don't seem to know what reality really is. Most philosophers don't. Poe did. Imagination is real. Reality is all that there is and your state of mind places you at a point therein. There is no such thing as time. The memories of your past are as real as your dreams for the future---And vice versa. The next time you decide to look in a mirror - to see what you REALLY look like, set up another mirror behind you. See yourself fading into an infinite past. Now take away the mirror behind you. Your still here. |
| Confined to my cage. Pace, pace, pace. I depend on suspense. Dependence or suspension? Pace, pace, pace. I would trade enthusiasm for suspense. Suspend me from a rope and watch me choke. Pace, pace, pace. That is my request. What is my reward? Pace, pace, pace. |
| BCOF Prompt Reply: I have made many mistakes. I admit it. I regretted most at the time of making. Or shortly thereafter. I wouldn't change a single one. Part of my Philosophy of Reality: Everything that has happened to us in the past. Everything that we have done in the past. Makes us who we are today. Change any of it and we change who we are today. Falling prey to regret and wishing to change the past is destruction of the present as it is today. Changing the past would be suicide of the me I am now. I like the me I am now. That was not always the case in the past. Conclusion: Carefully choose your options now and in the future. Every action and reaction sets you off on a new Reality Track. Create the person you want to become by carefully choosing. The End. |
| Blog City Prompt Response: When the future becomes the past I find the picture quite becoming. The future draped in a grey beard of Spanish Moss on stately old oaks. I dream of my future, my mind lost in the past. |
| Blog City Prompt Reply: Bedlam bespeaks my Boredom. The gibbering voices in my head lull me to a dull state of dissolution. Gibberish of the dead. I can't get it out of my head. |
| BCOF: Prompt answer. Time goes by. Day after day. Sometimes I struggle. To no avail. It still goes by. Day after day. Please make it stop. Make it go back. What is progress? Blog City: Prompt answer. Sarcasm is in the tongue of the sarcastic. If you don't like it make a tongue sandwich! |
| BCOF: Walking on eggshells? I never really understood that saying. Like walking on eggshells? -- Like meaning you have to be careful? Ridiculous. Why would anyone try to walk on eggshells carefully! You know they're going to break. Unless your a bug or something. I don't often wear shoes, but I do enjoy walking on eggshells barefoot. Especially before the shell has been emptied out. The squishy feeling of the yolks between my toes is very erotic. As long as the eggs are fresh that is. The smell of rotten eggs slimmed on my feet is anything but erotic. And I just hate it when the eggs are about ready to hatch and I have to listen to the pity full peeps of the squished chicks. Sometimes the calciferous slivers in the bottom of my feet seem to form a treasure map. Someday maybe I will follow that map and find a pot of golden eggs. |
| BCOF: My bones, my bones are in the deep. The deepness of me and of reality. I search and I search. Where might they be? Far down below and in the wee hours of the day, sometimes I may notice them raining down on me. Fire and brimstone from the desert clouds, my burning bones rain down and meld my flesh with the burning sands. Rains of night wash us to the sea where the cold waters rejuvinate me. Sinking, sinking down I go. Oh so far below where the pressure increases and the ice enfolds us - me and my bones. We wait for another cycle to begin. |
| Blog City: It's about time! All the dogs and cats can talk, quite a few other so-called animals also are speaking up. Human people are finally silent. Finally! I could always talk with animals and I have no idea what made those damn so-called humans finally shut up. Peace!Final |
If I only did what I knew I could do I would never do anything?  |
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