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I'm sick of work and tired of these women I work with. I keep telling my self it's just 2 more years than I can quit and never look back.... oh these days have been tiresome. trying to make my son stop sleeping during the day so he will fall asleep at 8 and wake up at 7. but the teachers at his playschool say 'oh he was so tired we thought it was OK to let him sleep for 30 min.' but it's not then he won't fall asleep 'till 9 and I have to force him out of bed in the morning tired and grumpy... ...

I have such little poetic skill,
to offer a beautiful poem.
All I have is my consciousness
and my feeling -
My feeling of this supreme
wordless peace,
and this ever-burning divine love.
In consciousness I get a glimpse
of the divine;
Where everything is turned toward the Light,
And every thought, breath, word, and action
is a step towards union with God.

The spirit free of all bonds
enjoys the ...

2003 Dir. Gus van Sant

The first decade of the twentieth century has been a decade of violence. Despite the attacks on 9/11 being the most tragic event, Columbine was the most symbolic as a precursor to a society taken by random violence.

Now Columbine was not the begining of violence in modern society nor was it the end, but it was a symbol of the nihilistic acts of practically ambiguous induviduals, whose purpose has been speculated a hundred times over by almost ...

Comedian's gardening thread put me in mind of my Mum. She's a gardener, untrained and instinctive. Her house is on an ex council estate that boasts an example of every kind of The English Garden within it. A common “look” there is overgrown-with-attractive-rotting-sofa-feature. another favourite concept is the weedy- lawn- full-of-kids- toys. Getting more and more popular is the flagged-over-for-parking, also the wooden decking-with-outdoor-pots-and-built-in-barbie mark the encroachments of ...

Essence of Regret



Rosebuds live on an even plane

Gathered together in dozens

Full roses sit in the falling rain

With the turtledoves, their cousins.

Dreaded is the cresting ray

That falls from the scored domain

Of shimmering prisms’ lissome way

In step with seasons’ feign.

Open upon the laughing brook . . .

A fluster of shooting stars retires

...