So that I won’t forget
I have made it a point
return to the season of my birth-
In the middle of
But after famine comes plenty
That is why I count myself
And could never choose any season but famine
The new child has to be suckled
After that one is
But men are truly never weaned, and
simple sake of remembering
They always return to
Where they were not weaned.
Man born into misery, lives in pain,
After that he
Where then is the joy?
But having tried my hands at love
And submitted to
Having applied myself to knowing wisdom
always fell short,
I have seen the futility of this
And the tragedy that is mortal man.
So that I won’t go on forgetting
I have made it a
For the simple sake of remembering
return to suckle
And to visit,
Where I came from.
To kill an ant with a
And cut a twig with and ax
O reason! Why have
men forsaken the middle path?
And trod the way of savage
To cut a twig with an ax
kill a fly with a shell;
O reason! What has befallen
And thinking-man has fled to savage
Airports are like train stations
that one ways
They both have Arrivals and
Departures are cold and a little sad
They get mushy sometimes:
The tear drops
One just lit my eye
It rolls down
weep because some loved one is leaving;
Just remember that
Is tomorrow’s arrival for another loved
arrivals. They are warm like summer
But be of good
Someday soon, it will be your
is, you have to depart first.
My destination is three
Here I am, held up by
Should you see two,
Do bid him make way
So I can
get to three!
all roads lead to the end
those who worry
about losing their way
should rest easy
lead to the grave
Labor wards are not particularly a place for happy campers
There is a rigid feeling of suspense about them.
A strange and distressing place,
Not to the woman whose faculty is now suspect
But to the man whose ego is punctured.
The day my child was to come
That was my first outing to a labor ward
He had told his mother he was
A mother and child thing so to speak
It was a rather fine day
A bright and beautiful October dawn
The sun rose with the winds
Hopeful and tizzy with fall.
We arrived quite on time
The hospital crew ready at hand
A stranger walks in hooded in white
Gaps her open and sticks a finger or two.
For what seemed like an eon,
The time stood still waiting for me
My heart skipped a beat or so
My head spurn like the loom
“What do you think you are doing”, I almost blurted
“It’s looking good” the stranger said
Not to me in particular
I believe he is a Doctor
And wondered if he knew that was my wife.
The rest came at scheduled times
Took their peek in turn
And scribbled something I would never know
I was roundly disgusted.
I stepped out into the open ward
Row after row of very pregnant women
Now add the pregnant of other lands
See how busy the world’s men have been.
The minutes limped along distressed
The men whose ego have been bruised
Paced back and forth the halls
The women whose faculties are now suspect
Groan and moan with clinched fists.
In the end the baby comes
More disgusting that the labor wards
“You are the proud father of a baby boy” someone announced
Lost as to what the response to that is
I simply grined and swallowed
It would be moments later before I realize
What had happened to me .
Where Were You When The Ist
Internet Goldrush Swept
You were probably the same
place you are today. Be comforted, you were not alone.
Most of us were. And we lost out. But, there is a good
reason for that- we were not techies and geeks. We were
just regular folks, not given to the things of
That was then. A new Gold
Rush is about to happen on the Web again. A bigger and
better mine is brewing. This time, the geeks and
the wizards of technology are sleeping, and for a good
Be part of this new Internet Gold Rush. It is
free and the doors are open. Follow
the links below to your fortunes.