Wonders why life plays out in the fashion it does. How human of me.

Summary of Poetics

Artists and poets deal in the possible. History is only the past, philosophy is only the logical approach to things. Art covers all areas.

We learn universal truth about human nature through art.

There is danger in everything.

Art: Ignored in this country. Deemed entertainment or something even lower. No passion for the creativity. Artists are weirdos, insane. A simple dismissal.
A man collects something for his love of it. This is unheard of in these regions.

They see art as having no point. Nearly.

Thanks to Urbandictionary

1. Carolyn

The feminine version of the name Charles meaning "the woman." Basically never printed on magnets, mugs or other souvenir paraphernalia. Often mistaken for Caroline, Carolina, Carol, Karen or Katherine.

Ex: My name is Carolyn, not Caroline, dammit.

The Power of No

For some reason, I was reminded of the man in Tiananmen Square, stopping the tank so fed up with the world and it's inherient cruelty. Then I thought of Sir Thomas More and his refusal to support King Henry VII in his request for divorce. This refusal led to his demise. Lying to find evidence, for there was none.

It's the click, the no I won't do this or agree to this, that makes me curious. Toddlers learning words seem to have no problem in addressing thier desires. So what makes older generations submit but disagree?

your sex life is like the berlin wall, you can get it up but no one is going to climb on it

Tired eyes gazing out at the lamp post, standing rigid beside the worn picket fence. White, but chipping. It needed to repainted but it fell on the list of things to accomplish that most likely will never be accomplished. It's all relative. Marriage. Kids to raise. Divorce. And the mounting list of things that needed to be done. And the ever growing pile of things to be mended. And the always decreasing amount of spare time.

A bird, innocent, and happy in its ignorant glory, perched on the fence. The fence that had bore the strain of many animals and many storms. Rotten wood adorned with chipping paint. So scenic in its disrepair.

Wind, a soft progression of chimes in the distance. Enough to snap one out of a reverie.

new finland dog
harlequin great dane
tibetan mastiff

black eyed leucistic snake

ragdoll cat
maine coon
russian blue
Oriental

2:00 am

Waking to the company of the moon. A tired life.
The leaves had long since shed themselves to grow anew again, when the cold moved on.
Streching angerly, for sleep was no friend.
Bare feet on the oak floor. Creaking under the weight it was asked to bear.
The closing of the refrigerator door and the always calming cup of chai.
Sinking wearlily into a chair.
Perhaps it was a predictable life, but it was the one of choosing.
The feel of fur against one's bare leg was often a sensation that went unnoticed.
Hunger, as usual. Spoiling the only company you have, but for what purpose?
Sitting, staring at the moon, as it hangs boldly, by unseen threads.
Life in all its unseen mystery.
A letter. From a lover. According to inner fantasy. Unopened on the table. Waiting for the invariable escape of sleep. A welcome break from the usual bills.
A tale of kindred spirits or a deeper meaning to something ordinary.
Or simply, nothing at all.

Jesus Christ walks into a hotel. He hands the inkeeper three nails and asks...

"Can you put me up for the night?"


I am going to Hell for laughing at that.