Category: blogging
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Our Feathered Friends
The birds in my birdhouse have gone. After a few weeks of struggle, to make a home, to guard and protect it as the babies grew and struggled themselves. After days of cold, rain and wind, they finally completed the cycle of life. Sadly, I never see the whole family leave. Never see the young…
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Your Worst Enemy
Fear is a spirit And not a good one. It tells you you can’t when you can. Keeps you from riding in cars Calls you a liar when you’ve told the truth Fear is not your friend.
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Just Different
We hate what we don’t understand. Fear what we don’t know. Dont judge me Until you’ve lived my life for a few months Then you’ll come back and say; “I didn’t know.” Always ask Never assume. I’m not bad Just different.
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World Wide Web
When they first came out with computers in the 1980s (although they had been experimenting with it much eatlier) I knew it was the beginning of the end. It’s a way to keep tabs on everyone. Did you know that? You enjoy the wealth of knowledge from Mr. Google in a manner of seconds, but…
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When You’re Too Tired To Be Funny
Last night I woke up around 2 AM thinking: “I need to write a funny post. It’s been a long time. My writing is getting too serious and… well… boring.” But then I had a hearty chuckle and went back to sleep. —————— Photo by alicepaipai
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The Proverbial Closet
The proverbial closet Sometimes it’s upstairs Usually it’s in a kid’s room Always it’s frightening No matter how many times you clean it out Something or someone fills it back up A ghost or two moves in Way in the back behind a coat seldom worn
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Giving Birth
Sometimes there’s a restlessness in the soul. You wake up to it. Words churning inside like an unsettled stomach Undigested Unanalyzed A post is in the making That’s why we all write Isn’t it?
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Greener Pastures
It’s a ghost town. So I’m leaving. I don’t need another reason. Even the tumble weeds themselves must roll away.
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No More Nosy Neighbors
What does freedom mean to you? To me, freedom means being able to sit in my own backyard and pick my nose as often as I want to.
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Torn Pieces
Sometimes when I’m doing stuff I’ll have a glimpse of a distant memory. Just a tiny glimpse Something from my childhood. It is so vague and fragile that it disappears after a moment or two I always try to capture it. To hold it a bit longer till I get more details, but it is…
Just A Guy 