| Poetic Justice... |
| There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the back of the fence. The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence. Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. His father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said, "You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won't matter how many times you say I'm sorry, the wound is still there." A verbal wound is as bad as a physical one. Friends are rare jewels, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succed. They lend an ear, they share words of praise and they always want to open their hearts to us. Please Forgive me if I ever left a hole... Unknown |
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| The Convergence of the Twain Lines on the Loss of the "Titanic" In a solitude of the sea Deep from human vanity And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she. Steel chambers, late the pyres Of her salamandrine fires, Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres Over the mirrors meant To glass the opulent The sea-worm crawls--grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent. Jewels in joy designed To ravish the sensuous mind Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind Dim moon-eyed fishes near Gaze at the gilded gear And query, "What does this vaingloriousness down here?" Well: while was fashioning This creature of cleaving wing The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything Prepared a sinister mate For her--so gaily great-- A shape of ice, for the time far and dissociate. And as the smart ship grew In stature, grace, and hue In shadowy silent distance grew the iceberg too. Alien they seemed to be: No mortal eye could see The initimate welding of their later history Or sign that they were bent by paths coincident On being anon twin halves of one august event. Till the Spinner of the Years Said, "Now!" And each one hears, And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres Thomas Hardy, 1912 |
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| Who Cares? i don't understand, what is the point? why Live when there's no one who wants you? dark eyes On your back, like a streak, black alley cat watching and wishing that you weren't there why me oh lord, for what have i done it was only a dare, but then who cares? i live in the shadows unwanted, unknown, and alone depressed, i kept my anger locked inside all the time wishing that i would die as time went by, my feelings grew darker, my eyes, day by day more dim my heart said i should weep, but why? so not a tear did i cry i went on through the days in a trance of self pity though just a little, i still cared then one day i realized my plight i was mad at the world and i had No more fight and then...i cried i cried long Empty tears of self pity and sorrow i cried for myself and no one else my heart filled with fear as i asked myself blatantly "why am i still here?" then the idea came and i walked toward the drawer to retrieve the gun that would make me no more Like a corpse forced to feel i was filling the chamber, and finally happy getting rid of my anger i put the gun to my head with a sigh of relief and a smile on my face my anger, i released the trigger was pulled the bullet on mark was it finally over? no, not Yet with my soul still alive, for a moment, maybe so i silently fell into the fires down below and there he stood in his vial space as only lucifer could holding torment and hate when from his eyes i had fled a new thought dawned and this is what i said: "with my sorrow gone, and my anger compressed i am truly happy no more will i be depressed" he looked up at me with a smile on his face and said, while shaking his head, "who cares?" Nicholas Perry, 1994 |
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| Where is the end to the madness that dives life so Will there ever be a break in this endless picture show There only one who could know We can only guess about what will take place through the course of our lives as we madly embrace The sad things of this world that we can see, feel, and taste While ignoring the inantimates As we rush through life with haste Swimming through a sea of emotions and feelings That are locked with a key that's hidden behind the door that's impossible for me but possible for we for united we're stong but divided we're wrong There will be an end to this life of war The battle between good and evil will some day be no more When money is silent and people are true when you can trust not only in mankind but you can trust in you Near the end we'll find a way to unlock that door behind which your thoughts are kept A way to unlock your world, to unlock yourself. Turn inside out, then work from the outside in Rebuilding your heart with nails of pure love formed from forgiven sin For some, the strengths will hold because the nails are strong not breaking from cold For others, They'll be in worse shape for those mening naild do no good when they're hammered with hate Nicholas Perry, 1995 |
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