Imagine if you will the perfect day. Imagine waking up bright eyed and bushy tailed as you leap out of the shower into your favorite and most comfortable outfit. You pop the shades on and out the door you go. You have a pocket full of cash, a full tank, and the entire day to do what you wish. I wonder what your wish would be.
I would have the cracks of solid iron shots echoing in the trees as the birds make their usual sounds and gestures. I would have good friends with me all playing competitively. Afterwards there would be good meat and chicken on the grill and pool balls banging in the background blending with the rockin jams being played in full surround sound. There would be laughter for all with movies playing softly till dawn.
There would be a hearty homemade breakfast waiting for anyone who stayed in the whole time: Pancakes, bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, waffles, sausage, donuts, apples, oranges, bananas and grapefruits; every juice known to man and yes, an entire case of diet pepsi- of course.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
time bandits
There are feelings and thoughts that refresh the mind and occupy the temporary vacancies that sometimes persist in our daily grind. These feelings are real because they occupy the mind's time that is not always gracious in its reception. The conflict that becomes of it resides in another one that lies on the other side.
The line that gets crossed is old and worn from generations of heavy travelers. The stories and hopes and dreams handed down from past inequities swallow up our new ideas and hold them in to suffer in silent squeezing. The line must be moved and the doors must be opened in order for these new feelings and thoughts to emerge.
Those doors open because others have closed. The walk through will always be long and the time it takes to arrive in style will most definitely vary from mile to mile. But in the end it will be said that you fit fine in your garb and stained it well with a passion anyone could tell.
Our feelings are not measured by their quantity; I have an immeasurable amount; they are measured by quality alone because true feelings will never be fully understood, only pondered and written about. And that is the fun of it all! 98.2 LLc
The line that gets crossed is old and worn from generations of heavy travelers. The stories and hopes and dreams handed down from past inequities swallow up our new ideas and hold them in to suffer in silent squeezing. The line must be moved and the doors must be opened in order for these new feelings and thoughts to emerge.
Those doors open because others have closed. The walk through will always be long and the time it takes to arrive in style will most definitely vary from mile to mile. But in the end it will be said that you fit fine in your garb and stained it well with a passion anyone could tell.
Our feelings are not measured by their quantity; I have an immeasurable amount; they are measured by quality alone because true feelings will never be fully understood, only pondered and written about. And that is the fun of it all! 98.2 LLc
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