When I am gone beyond the pale
please know I hope to come back
for a second chance to show my
love for you and you and you too.
I already did for one.
Mom
When I am gone beyond the pale
please know I hope to come back
for a second chance to show my
love for you and you and you too.
I already did for one.
Mom
Strong woman and strong poet. Thanks.
I had left the tv on yesterday when I lay down on the sofa for a nap. That’s how I caught the dog and pony show on CNN. I don’t have a working channel changer so I left it on because I’m innately lazy…or was innately sleepy at the time.
So I saw almost all of it, the bi-partisan sham meeting on the huge table with our pres. Reading body language, it seemed his arms folded across his chest was an unconscious attempt to protect himself from many comments. Nancy Pelosi was sitting beside him, at times speaking to him and showing him something on paper. They smiled at each other. Pres. accused someone jokingly of being “afraid of the NRA.”
He said that “we’ve already taken care of bump stocks.” (I don’t know how.)
He was affable and said he had breakfast Sunday with the NRA and that he told them “Enough is enough,” that this nonsense has to stop.
I did note that he nixed the idea of an immediate bill, saying he wanted to craft a large, sweeping bill that would be the best ever, and to include mental health. When asked if he would sign the bill he said he would “Give it my consideration.”
At first I couldn’t understand what was going on, all these elected officials buttering pres. up and throwing him complimentary remarks. I knew making the bill larger made it being passed less likely and taking its vote further away from the high tide of public passion. But how could the invited guests be so vehemently pro?
Then I realized; I was seeing a dog and pony show for voters back home to see how hard their elected official was working to respond to the grass roots movement begun by the remaining high school victims.
P.S. The very next day he visited with the NRA, probably to assure them that nothing had changed.
Funny!
If we return to earth
each lifetime,
to improve upon our previous self,
I really should be better
at juggling than I am.
II.
And I can just barely use chopsticks.

I’m too confused about Reblog/Press This to do it correctly, so I’m just saying it:
/thefeatheredsleepcom.wordpress.com/2018/02/25/so-damn-poor/
podist.blogspot.com/2009/05/forgive-me- dilys-laing.html

Image: http://www.thetimes.co.uk/…
Perfect, beautiful! ove it. Great opening line! Good morning.
It’s about time one sits on top of the ash heap and not buried in it. Ashen, sure. It was hard work digging oneself up and out.
There it was. Stood at the side of the concrete path leading to the toilets for days. I picked it up. Brought it indoors. Still have it, at pride of place on the shelf where such things go. Many years later. A thought trundled into my head, a positive to combat the general habit of malaise. Humility is good but too much … you know the saying. It’s about time.
Only one small chip in the rim. It was in there for what must have been really many years. The block of flats had a coal boiler, even then it was an odd thing. 1995. We bathed in an inch of water often. Often it broke. Often the landlord didn’t bother to buy…
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