tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30245005505537700702012-02-11T15:59:51.970-05:00Not Just a Metaphor Anymore.Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125livjoneshttp://feedburner.google.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-82351438922374567562011-12-25T16:26:00.003-05:002011-12-29T19:42:03.978-05:002011-12-29T19:42:03.978-05:00

Shannon Upon each morning I wake with a smile. To look upon your brown eyes as I rise, Perhaps, mistaken am I, for a while, Is this still the dream or love realized? For every moment since I first saw thee, My love fell greater, as grows your beauty; Of all I have done this most cherished be, My heart forever, I give your duty. What dreams may come? When I’m gone from this world,

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-32964492962130397872011-12-17T15:54:00.000-05:002011-12-18T09:51:14.156-05:002011-12-18T09:51:14.156-05:00

“Eve” “Until Eve arrived, this was man’s world…” (Richard Armour) “…but every song must eventually come to an end.”  (Eve) She would have you believe that she was ribbed into existence, but all is just the navel plot, for his life of sacrifice would not exist without her being. Her name, a mere alias, thought given by some greater cause, just like him, is but a guise, a corset-armor of

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-67927226930004520102011-11-30T17:03:00.001-05:002011-11-30T22:48:59.583-05:002011-11-30T22:48:59.583-05:00

The Dreamt The dreamt wait to escape. A life is but a dream, it can come true. Dreaming yourself into who you want to. Inside your mind she attempts to break free. Manifest her by action, become me. One thing on her mind, some day she will find, what she's hoping for: a cracked open door. Ran from the crack, Not turning back, Life on the edge Love on the ledge. A kiss in the rain. Aye,

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-31847852561781268132011-11-24T08:38:00.001-05:002011-11-24T14:57:23.161-05:002011-11-24T14:57:23.161-05:00

Revenge of the Turkey Turkey, stuffing, gravy and potatoes, I still hate Aunt Hope's green bean casserole. Gobble, gobble, gobble dinner once said; Where did mom go? Oh she's drunk in the bed. Turkey now ready, Uncle Fritz is late. My cousin flirts with my gay brother's date. We all bow our head as father says grace. The children fail to maintain a straight face. My pregnant sister takes a

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-83118333934850317452011-11-17T13:05:00.000-05:002011-11-17T13:06:23.666-05:002011-11-17T13:06:23.666-05:00

Eden's strength lies in man's ignorance. The Garden against Mowers IGNORANT mower, who worries too much, thinks his creation is just such, the greatest garden to ever be planned, but it is the mower that’s manned. Every book wishes to be the first book made, every word hoping to be prayed; Songs, and paintings in their self-confidence, Forget their evolved existence. All are trying to

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-35740991818978123012011-11-16T17:59:00.000-05:002011-11-16T17:59:32.464-05:002011-11-16T17:59:32.464-05:00

This time, love will find a way. Sonnet in time  Once upon a time, my love I did find. In 1973, I kissed thee. There a bottle washed ashore as a sign. To live life with no regrets being me. Seven years, I could barely recognize. God’s cancer growing in me deep inside. The prayers were merely a poor disguise. My body decayed, as death took my side. So I made an accord with death in rhyme

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-60677780000304747412011-11-14T15:53:00.001-05:002011-11-14T16:13:23.653-05:002011-11-14T16:13:23.653-05:00

You can truly only cheat on yourself. Becoming Charlotte.  (Based on Shakespeare Sonnet 138, from A Passionate Pilgrim.) My dawn gives way to our day’s mirrored kiss.A tear, I pause, (she realizes) our  truth.Faith  to lies lost, yet her I will not miss.The monster inside, my mind’s dark sweet-tooth. Once free to roam , on campus I shall findI seek the classroom, not a church of

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-6173994461510505552011-10-14T17:31:00.000-04:002011-10-21T15:56:18.643-04:002011-10-21T15:56:18.643-04:00

Rose was meant for something greater. How do you measure the value of your life? By what you can buy, or what you can do? Like the sound water makes just before it boils, Rose always felt some sort of internal calling which was indescribable. She couldn't tell anyone for fear of ridicule, but she knew, something inside her was telling her that this life she was in wasn't all that there would

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-46330844715338384642011-10-02T13:54:00.000-04:002011-10-09T09:51:37.263-04:002011-10-09T09:51:37.263-04:00

In a yellow station wagon, its roof strapped with the makings of a home, and in the passenger's seat sat Kate. For it was clear when she left that little town, the windows rolled down as she took her last breath of those orchards that lined her father's street, that it was not by choice. Kate cried as she looked at her childhood home one last time as she drove out of sight. For it was by her

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-38121347638614944802011-09-04T10:41:00.000-04:002011-09-04T12:19:17.098-04:002011-09-04T12:19:17.098-04:00

The last thing I remember before it all went dark was that tiny little uncomfortable airplane pillow they give you, a paper towel covered whoopee cushion which you'll spend endless hours unsuccessfully attempting to rearrange like a Rubrics-Cube, into some salvation from the medieval torture device you're buckled into. I stood up from that horrid British Airway's airline seat to seek the

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0Cardiff, UK51.4813069 -3.180497899999977651.4316954 -3.2785163999999773 51.5309184 -3.0824793999999778tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-83659493601928210392011-08-21T01:04:00.006-04:002011-09-03T09:06:16.134-04:002011-09-03T09:06:16.134-04:00

The Bucket List. You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes when you die? 8.6 minutes. That's approximately the amount of time you have after your heart stops beating before brain function ceases. When we die, our eyes close, our body is paralyzed, and if we're lucky enough to die of old age; we will do so with loved ones standing over us, mourning, as we're lost for all time.

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com2Stockel 2, 1150 St-Pieters-Woluwe, Belgium50.841888 4.46470199999998850.733489999999996 4.231242499999988 50.950286 4.698161499999989tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-78043619966541661632011-08-08T17:28:00.003-04:002011-08-08T18:01:42.469-04:002011-08-08T18:01:42.469-04:00

To my love, Cooter. My real name is Stella. Artois, yes, like the beer- not "Candy", which you have come to know me at the club. I of course wish we could have clarified this at the beginning of our relationship. My mother conceived me one night on a bar counter in Houston, next to NASA, in 1973, with a French engineer passing through town. We always referred to my non-existent father as "

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com1Houston, TX, USA29.7601927 -95.3693895999999829.4666387 -95.81713409999998 30.0537467 -94.92164509999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-57740219776365598432011-08-07T16:23:00.001-04:002011-08-07T16:41:43.025-04:002011-08-07T16:41:43.025-04:00

 The USS California is seen on fire after an attack by the Japanese on Dec. 7, 1941, in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.   This is the story of how my grandfather died. This is the story of war on earth. This is the story of the bravest man I knew: my grandfather. Several years ago, almost a life-time away now it seems I stood there and watched my grandmother barely able to stand as she pressed

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0Pearl Harbor, HI, USA21.3445072 -157.974891221.334514199999997 -157.9894822 21.3545002 -157.9603002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-71403989182792511422011-08-07T15:37:00.000-04:002011-08-07T15:37:25.159-04:002011-08-07T15:37:25.159-04:00

“...they eat with the greatest possible rapidity, and in total silence...” -Fanny Trollope “They wolfed down their food, cramming corn bread into their sloppy maws during meals that were devoured in silence, punctuated only by slurps, grunts, scraping knives, and hacking coughs. “ -Simon Schamaii On Christmas day 1827, Fanny Trollope arrived in “The New World” from Europe, and wrote a detailed

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0Lac Obèse, Kiskissink, QC G0X, Canada47.7648739 -71.9973307000000247.7637109 -71.99795820000001 47.766036899999996 -71.99670320000003tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-80957511127658185962011-08-07T15:33:00.001-04:002011-08-13T16:59:46.589-04:002011-08-13T16:59:46.589-04:00

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...” is the epic phrase made famous by author Charles Dickens who used it to describe the time period of The French Revolution. In 1793 when the fictional character Sydney Carton of A Tale of Two Cities sacrifices himself on the guillotine for the love of his life, Napoleon Bonaparte age 24, had just begun to fulfill his legacy as a

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0France46.227638 2.21374900000000741.328188 -5.397050999999993 51.127088 9.824549000000008tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-84736376033736879522011-01-09T17:43:00.003-05:002012-02-11T11:43:41.784-05:002012-02-11T11:43:41.784-05:00

Life is a fairy tale authored by its own characters. True love is measured by the certainty that no one else in the world could love you more. The people who end up being close to you in life, are rarely the friends we would have chosen for ourselves. To awake and discover ourselves altered by the people in it, no matter how random the relationship is. To sleep knowing you have changed the

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3024500550553770070.post-54801240517995272802005-11-30T16:16:00.028-05:002011-09-21T12:11:00.769-04:002011-09-21T12:11:00.769-04:00

Cats accidentally swallow all kinds of things. Mine once swallowed Viagra. It all started when my best friend Charlotte's boyfriend: Earl, enlisted me for some advice as to what to buy his girlfriend for Christmas. Since Charlotte and I have been friends since childhood, he was under the impression I could somehow manifest the perfect present that eludes his tiny male mind. Yes I'm the "

Livhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12431327516415516835noreply@blogger.com0