He was a stout man with thick fingers who willingly engaged your ear, although following his hackneyed conversation style was akin to skipping alongside Dorothy through an endless field of soporifi…
Source: Mytwosentences 154
He was a stout man with thick fingers who willingly engaged your ear, although following his hackneyed conversation style was akin to skipping alongside Dorothy through an endless field of soporifi…
Source: Mytwosentences 154
We ‘d hoped to see the rose gardens in June
But on the 1st he died and travelled on
We both enjoyed the roses in full bloom
We used the dark to see the stars and moon
But by the 1st I found that he was gone
We hoped to see the rose gardens in June
As I tell, this death arrived too soon
And took away the life of a dear man
We wished to see the flowers in full bloom
As he lay, I sang remembered psalms
I knew before the doctors he was gone
We meant to see the rose gardens in June
Then there with me he re-encountered calm
I had not gone there with a plan
We longed to see the flowers’ enchanting blooms
May was cold and bitter with alarm
That was when he fell , yet was unarmed.
We’d hoped to see those roses very soon
We love the scent of roses in full bloom

The gap between 0 and 1 is bigger than the gap between 1 and 2

From the first moment of life, we are two creatures becoming one
They give each other all they have and receive all there is.
So in our being, we are sharers.There is never just one.
After the union, the home, the womb.Someone willing to tolerate being used.

After winter, spring comes and the grass grows by itself.
They used to have the parade after the war probably holding the heads of the defeated in their hands.
White Bosphorus?
Cost benefit paralysis set in.
He was counting his passes.
There’s no accounting for waste.
USA War parade.Go figure.
She flaunted her flotsam.
All things being a sequel.
Why would stones want moss?
And there is no other cook!
How many lives are well, flossed?
Opportunity knocked and I opened the door
But that room’s not the one I was looking for.
The light didn’t work and I fell on a book
Then I saw you and your smile and your look.
We don’t know what we want until it comes by
I’m too past it now;I soon I may die.
But while I am here, I’m enjoying the peace
Of being alone, smiling, and writing re geese.
I seem them fly by when the sun starts to sink.
How like a wild god; they ‘re gone when I blink.
Then they descend ;they all move as one.
No training in music could teach us that song.
Evoking the beauty of stars far away,
I like to watch geese at the end of the day.
Patterns and poems disclose other worlds.
The hand of a baby; the fingers uncurled
The trust and the smile ; mother is home
She creates entire worlds for the one she has borne.
For chaos and panic are onot far away;
Even in adults who don’t care to say.
The little hands touch me so deeply, so well;
How come the world holy is rolling to hell?
How can we kill little wains by the score?
Was it for this that I opened your door?
Was it for this that love electrified us?
We were lost in each other, as moved the white dove.
Was it for war that we lent love our wombs
Making more soldiers and building more tombs?
The bombs, they are loading; they’re having parades.
It’s not North Korea, it’s Washington, dude.
Let the tanks roll on Corrie and the Bedouin tribes.
Let the allies laugh blindly as the Lord Jesus dies.
O take me, dear mother.Please take me away
I can’t see no point in saying my prayers.
The leaders’ religions are making God frown.
The desert is empty, the tents all dragged down.
The centuries of living , so free, so mobile
The Holy Land blessing; they pause for while.
The little black tents, the wombs of the night,
Are all gone to shredders; they’re out of our sight.

Healing from Trauma and PTSD – Nine Reasons NOT to Talk About “What Happened”
So many people seem to think writing or talking is always therapeutic.We have to trust to some inner wisdom which guides us on this issue.And also it can be traumatic for unprepared people to hear your story.

Click to access Religion_as_Poetic_Truth.pdf
“I would suggest that the people who founded the great religions of the world, whether they were definite known founders or whether they were mythical founders who actually represented a current of thought that already existed, were doing something akin to art and poetry. Religion is not like science – it’s more like poetry. And poetry is not just fantasy or decoration. As the Roman poet Ovid said, “poetry speaks truth on earth” – and we should remember this when trying to understand the world’s religions. We can take religion to be true, but not literally true.”
When you come back to me, my dearest one.
When you no longer hide away in dreams.
The golden sun will rise for me again
When all my work on earth is done;
When I have felt the pain of what has been.
Will you come back to me, my dearest one?
Without your presence, I feel lost and pained.
But this is not eternal, though it seems.
The golden sun will rise for me again
The last bell rings , I am alone.
I am too simple to make cunning schemes
Will you come back to me, my dearest one?
Human life is brief; we share its pain;
The death instinct, the deadly Faustian themes;
The sacred sun will rise for us again .
I must live in darkness yet the angels lean
To shelter with their sacred wings my limbs.
When you had to leave , my dearest one,
Though loss may win, I still desire the sun.

http://home.btconnect.com/mike.flemming/
http://www.livescience.com/36074-5-experts-answer-dangerous-items-home.html
As well as the danger of accidents listed above, the home can be dangerous in other ways.We think families love each other and many times they do but home is also the place of intimacy and the place where people feel they can let it all hangout verbally or worse, physically.Power is involved and also scapegoating where a man may be treated badly at work.Then he comes home and his wife has just got in after picking up a child from the nursery.It’s her turn to make the dinner but she forgot they had no vegetables because she has got severe period pains.What happens next? He might shout at her or even hit her.Violence is common and it’s not class related.It depends on if they have patience and willingness to make an interpretation that does not blame the other for all their pain.