one for today...(or shud i say tonight..)


S T A R S

Ah! why, because the dazzling sun
Restored our earth to joy
Have you departed, every one,
And left a desert sky?

All through the night, your glorious eyes
Were gazing down in mine,
And with a full heart's thankful sighs
I blessed that watch divine!

I was at peace, and drank your beams
As they were life to me
And revelled in my changeful dreams
Like petrel on the sea.

Thought followed thought—star followed star
Through boundless regions on,
While one sweet influence, near and far,
Thrilled through and proved us one.

Why did the morning dawn to break
So great, so pure a spell,
And scorch with fire the tranquil cheek
Where your cool radiance fell?

Blood-red he rose, and arrow-straight
His fierce beams struck my brow:
The soul of Nature sprang elate,
But mine sank sad and low!

My lids closed down—yet through their veil
I saw him blazing still;
And steep in gold the misty dale
And flash upon the hill.

I turned me to the pillow then
To call back Night, and see
Your worlds of solemn light, again
Throb with my heart and me!

It would not do—the pillow glowed
And glowed both roof and floor,
And birds sang loudly in the wood,
And fresh winds shook the door.

The curtains waved, the wakened flies
Were murmuring round my room,
Imprisoned there, till I should rise
And give them leave to roam.

O Stars and Dreams and Gentle Night;
O Night and Stars return!
And hide me from the hostile light
That does not warm, but burn—

That drains the blood of suffering men;
Drinks tears, instead of dew:
Let me sleep through his blinding reign,
And only wake with you!

by Emily Brontë

A MEMORY OF YOUTH

THE moments passed as at a play;
I had the wisdom love brings forth;
I had my share of mother-wit,
And yet for all that I could say,
And though I had her praise for it,
A cloud blown from the cut-throat North
Suddenly hid Love's moon away.

Believing every word I said,
I praised her body and her mind
Till pride had made her eyes grow bright,
And pleasure made her cheeks grow red,
And vanity her footfall light,
Yet we, for all that praise, could find
Nothing but darkness overhead.

We sat as silent as a stone,
We knew, though she'd not said a word,
That even the best of love must die,
And had been savagely undone
Were it not that Love upon the cry
Of a most ridiculous little bird
Tore from the clouds his marvellous moon.

William Butler Yeats.

Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

The Glove and The Lions


King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport,
And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court;
The nobles filled the benches, and the ladies in their pride,
And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed:
And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,
Valour and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.

Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws;
They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws;
With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one another;
Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thunderous smother;
The ****** foam above the bars came whisking through the air;
Said Francis then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there."

De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a beauteous lively dame
With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always seemed the same;
She thought, the Count my lover is brave as brave can be;
He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me;
King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine;
I'll drop my glove, to prove his love; great glory will be mine.

She dropped her glove, to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled;
He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild:
The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place,
Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face.
"By God!" said Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat:
"No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that."

James Henry Leigh Hunt

We studied this in school!!!! Also remember simply loving Lochinvar and The Highwayman.

You draped me in an illusion

Gently, lovingly

Set each fold with care

I resisted, pushed away a pleat

You smiled, gentle as ever

And put it in place once more

I shook it off with violence now

The drape fell

Your loved abstractions faded away

The concrete frightened you

The concrete you could not love

You moved away.



Men never outgrow fairy tales

Each carries his little silver shoe

And searches for a fit

And where it does not fit

To make it fit.

For SHIV and CATCH
one of EDs verse

HAVE you got a brook in your little heart,
Where bashful flowers blow,
And blushing birds go down to drink,
And shadows tremble so?

And nobody, knows, so still it flows,
That any brook is there;
And yet your little draught of life
Is daily drunken there.

Then look out for the little brook in March,
When the rivers overflow,
And the snows come hurrying from the hills,
And the bridges often go.

And later, in August it may be,
When the meadows parching lie,
Beware, lest this little brook of life
Some burning noon go dry!

Nice one Dimps.

To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what fair country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive?
Beyond the Indies does this morrow live?
'Tis so far-fetched, this morrow, that I fear
'Twill be both very old and very dear.
"To-morrow I will live," the fool does say:
To-day itself's too late;--the wise lived yesterday.

Marcus Valerius Martial


"You can shed tears that she is gone,
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her only that she is gone,
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what she'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on."

Unknown

I’m different a bit from
Most that I know
Because I live for today
Not tomorrow

If someone were to ask
I’d tell them I'm scared
but I don’t let the
unknown become my
whole existence

Today is my friend
And I treat it as such
I’ve got nothing if I
Can’t love and can’t touch

What are heavy?
Sea sand and sorrow.
What are brief?
Today and tomorrow.
What are frail?
Spring blossoms and youth.
What are deep?
The ocean and truth.

Soft the words that come from you to let me know you care,
Instantly flood my being with the love we dearly share.
Spirits kindred we've become, no force on earth can break
The tender bond that our two hearts as one can only make.
Everything you look forward to and even things you fear,
Remember ever how I feel and that I am always here.

People look at her and think she doesn't walk
But she does, she walks daily in majestic grace
One look and most would think she can not even talk
But she does, just look deeper into that face
Where pain and sorrow and physical bonds for her cannot belong
She'll dance and sing praises throughout the whole daylong
She'll skip down those streets of gold that smile upon her face
To claim the mansion prepared for her in that most beautiful place
So don't limit her that she can't walk or utter language sounds
Just know that she's a Child & her love has no bounds

Anonymous

Catch, did you write this... I especially loved the above lines...

One from me to you..



Ode on Solitude

How happy he, who free from care
The rage of courts, and noise of towns;
Contented breathes his native air,
In his own grounds.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Blest! who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide swift away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,

Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unheard, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

by : Alexander Pope

Wow, that's a beautiful piece Dimps. Excellent. Every single word & sentence have been nicely put together & are so meaningful.

But our Great Turks in wit must reign alone
And ill can bear a Brother on the Throne.


Wit is like faith by such warm Fools profest
Who to be saved by one, must damn the rest.


Some who grow dull religious strait commence
And gain in morals what they lose in sence.


Wits starve as useless to a Common weal
While Fools have places purely for their Zeal.


Now wits gain praise by copying other wits
As one Hog lives on what another shits.


Wou'd you your writings to some Palates fit
Purged all you verses from the sin of wit
For authors now are so conceited grown
They praise no works but what are like their own.

Alexander Pope

At Random
by Anonymous

It was at random that we met,
A chance that not many get.
When I heard the "Uh Oh",
How was I to know!
That you would turn out to be my special friend,
Someone who could be there,
Until the end.

No matter how I feel or what I do,
I know, in my heart,
That I can count on you.

I've never seen you,
Heard you, or touched you.
Those kind of chances are very few.

To meet someone from far away,
Never knowing if they're here to stay,
Not knowing if what they say is true,
Of what they're doing and telling you.

So far away, but yet so near,
The "not knowing" is the fear.
Is it truth, or is it lies?
Will a heart grow, or will it die?
Either way, the bonds of Friendship's strings are tied.

One's needs are met,
Some with regret.
Some with hope,
Some with pain.
But still, the answer is plain.

If we hadn't met,
On that very day,
Things would be different
In every way.

The emptiness may be filled,
A life may start to rebuild.
A heart may be broken,
Or made to mend;
All because of that
"Random Friend".

Wow, nice one Catch.

Catch , Lalitha and Priya, lovely poems : ).

Ginger.. am still awaiting the stories you wrote. Please share them child.

If I make the lashes dark
And the eyes more bright
And the lips more scarlet,
Or ask if all be right
From mirror after mirror,
No vanity's displayed:
I'm looking for the face I had
Before the world was made.

What if I look upon a man
As though on my beloved,
And my blood be cold the while
And my heart unmoved?
Why should he think me cruel
Or that he is betrayed?
I'd have him love the thing that was
Before the world was made.

-W B Yeats

The fascination of what's difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt
That must, as if it had not holy blood
Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,
Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt
As though it dragged road-metal. My curse on plays
That have to be set up in fifty ways,
On the day's war with every knave and dolt,
Theatre business, management of men.
I swear before the dawn comes round again
I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt.

-W B Yeats

In my life, she brought sunshine
A petite sweet lady, who to me,
is so ever thoughtful and kind
At first glance, I knew she has a
beautiful heart
This lovely lady, I could foretell,
would make a sincere friend
right from the start

The inner beauty in
her is such a delight
Like a light so bright
of a moon lit night

A person who is so giving
A lady who has a zest for living
One who is bubbly and good-natured
One who deserves, in a poem,to be featured

Anonymous

For Shiv, Catch and Priya


The Road Not Taken


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

by : Robert Frost

Either way, it will be a sigh, hai na Dimps. Is there anyone who never wonders--what if or what if not?

Waise the road less travelled by is not a pleasant one. The millions trotting on the well-worn parallel road point fingers at one as a freak!!!

May I ask, aapke paas itna bada poetry ka khazana hai. Aapko kahan se milte hain? Aap khud likhti hain?

Just one little doubt, Priya. Are you the cigarette? Who is the smoker?

Ah!!! Wouldn't U like to know?

I remember when I showed this to a classmate during my MPhil, he said, "so U mean women are injurious to health."

True, the image suggests that, but the poem is really abt just how worthless a woman may be to the man who proposes to love her.

You are right. It is all about the trials & tribulations that a woman undergoes in a man's world. Extending this anology a little further, could one assume that ultimately the smoker too gets destroyed in the process. He blows himself away too.

I guess so Catch. He lives life to the fullest but never touches its core.

Dukhaye dil jo kisi ka woh aadmi kya hai
Kisi ke kaam na aaye to zindagi kya hai...

I think the poem like so many of mine is about giving Urself completely, so much so that when it all falls apart U have to recover Urself from scratch. Whereas for the user the relationship is all utilitarian and maybe parasitic even.

What exactly makes you say so ?


People have been given fingers so they can point them. What does one care about what anyone else says. and Why ?



Again.. it is slightly difficult for me to understand.. so please help me Women have seen for ages that men can not get involved as deeply as them, and in many a cases, love is just a game for them. What makes them then to give themselves completely? Why are they unable to see a simple fact that men wouold treat them in a similar manner they treat themselves.
If Women are not able to respect and love their own self and proclaim to be a mere subject who can be sacrificed at mere whim of the man.. and then is treated so.. why does she complain?


PS : I am just trying to understand please do not think I am questioning anything you said.

Very true Priya...I AM VERY OFTEN
considered A FREAK....
more on this at an approriate place and time...
and NO..I do not have the talent to
write verses of my own - I only read and
absorb ?

I love poetry - both in English and my mother
tongue TAMIL - have kept so many diaries and books
to them - which has been travelling with me to
all the houses that I have changed so far, from city
to city...

Priya.. a sort of reply to your last post...



Tears, Idle Tears

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
by Lord Tennyson

I can understand making Ur bed and not being able to sleep on it as it is lumpy or has bed bugs, so making it again and again till U are comfortable and find rest. I can also understand never finding that true love that we all seek and hence always searching. But if someone else's true and devoted love given to U, is just a game, just amusement, if U can hurt people and not care, if Ur abandoned laughter is worth more than someone's deepest pain, U cannot begin to understand life, I feel. I would not call a human being as portrayed in this poem a human being.




Shivani, when one is alone one cares. If U go back to a home where there is someone to wipe Ur tears or laugh with U at the end of the day, U can snap Ur fingers at the world. But if U live alone surrounded by peole who do not understand U and show their scorn it hurts. I particularly hate the low creatures on the road who think it is their right to pass comments on any woman on the road. And I do not understand why people are so curious about others' lives. U do not care if the person is alive or dead, yet U must know the intimate details of their life? I will never understand that.

I love poetry too, but never seek it like I seek out novels to read and enjoy. But when something comes to notice, like this thread, I read avidly.
Tamil is my mother tongue too but I do not know a word. The Indian language I know best is Hindi but cannot understand poetry too well.
I don't have the patience to write down the lines I like in diaries!!!!
Ur quite a remarkable person!!!!



WOW!!!! U have a poem for every thought and every occasion!!!
That last line is awesome.

We’re gay deceivers

He and I

We both seem taller

Than we are

He has his ego

Six feet tall

I have my little

High-heeled shoe.

Well If I may ask, was the motive/nature/intent of such a person known beforehand ?
The person who devoted herself, was se aware of the said person's intent ?If yes, did she do it in expectation that other person would reciprocate in a similar manner? And somehow the love and devotion would change the other person? Or did she come to know at a later stage when there was no way out ? IS she tryign to fulfil one of her need, to love someone completely and act as a devotee .. or is it asked and she is made to behave in such a manner?
And why should one expect someone else to be interested in one's pain? Human beings are different, and mostly care about their own welfare. IF one sees that other person is not able to reciprocate in similar manner, why keep hurting yourself ?

PS :I might sound heartless to you Priya, but am just trying to look at it clinically.. as everythign else. Please let me know if you think it is offending in any manner and I would step back : ).

This is why I said I am a freak. I just don't think that way. I hardly find anything motivating in living life for myself. True, I want to be happy, but not by walking over someone else or using someone.

This is the way I look at love and life.
Enter a relationship only if U love the person.
Enter a friendship only if U genuinely like the person.
Of course we want the best for ourselves but not that we use others for that end.
Live and let live.

My dear gal, U mean when people fall in love, they analyse all this in advance. U just rush ahead on a wave of emotion, if U are lucky, the wave is light and buoyant and U float, if Ur unlucky U are dashed against the rocks.

And loving deeply does not mean being a devotee!!!

BTW ZZZ clinical in my book is inhuman.
No Ur not offensive but why do U love playing the heartless creep? When U are such a darling actually. Woman in Black!!!!!

Well, stop calling yourself a freak. Most of the women on earth seem to think that they dont live for themselves. That their lie is to serve someone else, dote around and love. I see it as a deep need to be useful which springs out from the insecurity. They must be able to offer themselves fully, and create a sort of dependence so that other person tkaes care of themselves. I think our society is responsible for cultivating such feelings.
Everyone uses others Priya, in one way or other. And they use others for their pleasure only. IF one makes someone else's life comfortable.. it is because inturn it makes them feel happy.
I understand that hurting others for pleasure is not fair and caring for them is considered good. But I completely disagree that we live for anyone but ourselves.



You say Enter a relationship only if you love the person. And I understand this love is not "love at first sight" but rather one that develops by togetherness and mutual adoration. For that one does know what kind of person the other fellow is. In that case, one has some idea of what lies ahead, but if they wish to ignore it, and complain later.. I do not find it fair.
Also possible that such traits were never evident before, because of the limited interaction or the other person hid it on purpose. So When one becomes aware , then the onus is with them to take the next step and act in a manner most suitable to themselves. IF they love him/her a lot and are ready to overlook.. fair enough.. else muster up the strength to break free. If you have strength to go through undesirable behaviour.. you can do the other as well.


Maybe I am a freak.

Emotions are fine.. and I can understand them. But somehow I cannot help being analytical. Maybe am too cautious and can never know the kind of love you do.
And btw, I cannot for most part attribute what happens to me to luck. It is my actions I believe in, they keep me busy today and define my future.



The kind of love you talk .. giving oneslef completely .. seems devotion to me.


: ) That is the only sane way I know.

Catch

Am prepared to be kicked out .

I am not good at defining, analysing or defending my ppoint of view.. Can only say what I feel.

Let us take it to our pms and try to understand each other..
I am not able to feel and you are not able to think
khoob jamegee jab mil baithenge 3 yaar

Who said I cannot think?

Aur teesra yaar kaun hai?

BTW when I talk abt love making one do thinks I can give an eg.
Say I have to fill an application form and stand in a long queue and then run to an office and get photocopies and all that kinda dreary dull maddening stuff. If it is for someone I care abt it is a breeze and I feel motivated. If it is for me, i postpone till the deadline and hate it all. That kinda stuff.

: ) Main aap aur confusion .. aur kaun.

And I do understand when You say that love makes the world go around.
But again, because you love the other person, doing stuff for them makes you feel good. it makes YOU feel good, other person might not attach so much importance to it. It might be fine with them if you would do it on last date, or just tell them you cannot. They might find another way. So it is your own happinessnot anyone else's.

Another.. you do not like it doing for yourself as you do not love yourself Why do you not love yourself? Because you have hazaar issues and shortcomings. You find it in your heart to accept and love the other person, who might be worse by your standards, but not your own self?
Double standards ? Your ego working there? You cant make mistakes?
why?? why cant you love yourself as you are.. and then maybe work to get better or wherever you wish to be?
What stops us from that???

Ready For Love
Anonymous

Take my hand and lead the way;
tell me all you want to say.
Whisper softly in my ear,
all those things I want to hear.
Pull me close and hold me near;
take away my pain and fear.
In the darkness of the night,
be my beacon, shine your light.
In the brightness of the sun,
show me that you are the one.
Give me wings so I can fly;
for I can soar when you're nearby.
Enter my heart, break down the wall,
it's time for me to watch it fall.
I've been a prisoner, can't you see?
Break my chains and set me free.
Release my soul held deep within . . .
I'm ready now, let love begin.

Good one Catch : )

PS: sigh!

I am outnumbered here.. amongst all these lovers.. should keep away I guess.

Ego? No. But yes I do not inspire myself. Can U look at the mirror and feel Ur heart melt the way U do when U look at someone U love?
But yes, I do come down very heavily on myself if I make mistakes, to such an extent that I have now given up on myself.

BTW has someone told U, U have a twisted way of thinking?

I have not felt that myself but yes know a few who do . They can keep looking at themselves for hours . And why do you have such high standards for yourself ? Why do you think you have to prove it to yourself that you cannot fall? Are you on your side or someone else's ? And if you yourslef cannot like you, and advertise it to the ones who love you.. eventually they will start believing you. They have to right.

You expect yourself to be perfect.. (and a mighty perfect at that). If that is not ego.. what else is it? Somewhere inside you have to feel that you can achieve perfection.. that is why you set those standards .. right.

You do not even wish to take a look at the goals you set yourself, if they can be realized or not.. and start putting yourself down ?? why??



They might have.. I might not have registered it . IF they do not like me or my way of thinking.. they are free to look other way, I would never impose myself on anyone : ).

I don't set myself high goals. I just want to be happy.

Break, Break, Break

Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O, well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.



Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Love this one. Studied it in baby class.

The Brook


I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorpes, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

So we'll go no more a roving
so late into the night
Though the heart be still as loving
And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears the sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And Love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a roving
By the light of the moon. (---Lord Byron)

shush mah love

If crying could make you happy
I would cry for you
If tears could wash away the pain
I would cry all night through
but i believe in your heart you know
that all this worrying is in vain
The sun wil shine trhough one day
and we can see through this pain

U wrote this?

Nice. U really will do all that mah She wolf?

Zee should really release her poems in a book!

N

yeah am touched in head na

but think about it.. why do I care.. becuase you are a worthless cause.. or maybe because you really are a lovely person.




tell them to go eat dirt whoever suggested you are a freak.
As much as I have seen you, am yet to come across someone with so much strength of will and such conviction.

( At times I feel like punching you gals ! sigh!! Maybe thats what I would do )

ZZZ U otta have been a psychologist. What do doing with gumbyudors?