An avocado is not a vegetable,
botanically, it's classified as a fruit,
specifically, a large single-seeded berry,
although it's a fact you may wish to dispute,
your opinion is neither here nor there
as, take it or leave it,
it's what's known as a 'pear'.
And yet, should everything go pear-shaped,
don't blame the avo, it's not at fault,
for, whichever way you slice it,
it still tastes good with pepper and salt.
Smiler they called her
A proper social engager
A befriender - listener
Then something changed
Her sparkle went
Slowly - over time
Like someone turned out the light
Fading - retreating back
Always apologetic
Even if not at fault
Excuses
No longer mixing
Then the frown
Or deep sadness
Written across her lips and eyes
Always too busy
With something else
Silent and timid
In the presence of certain people
Particilarly one
Finding conversation difficult
Trust shot
Personality fading away
Unrecognised
No longer knowing self
Uncertain how to just - be anymore
The depth of night set in
Darkness
Black well
Suffocating
Not recognising
Yet so in need of someone
An open door
A friendly ear
A hand reaching out
Discretion
Signposts
Building blocks to breaking out
Of the wilderness
Means of dealing
Chance of escapism
Rescuing the soul from control
And cohersion
Finding a way back
To daylight
Refinding the spirit
That once helped her smile
The one who held
Was the one who cared
Everyday, Everynight
For her, he was always there
The one who held
Was the one who dared
To check upon her
When no one was there
But the one who let go
Decided that it is time
To leave this woe
Because she believed
That she wasn't worth a dime
The one who let go
Wasn't the one to be blamed
Because the one who let go
Was really ashamed
Of herself, especially
She was tired mentally
He was desperately chasing something
She couldn't offer physically
No one was at fault
And that's what hurt the most
One had nothing left to give
And one had too much to let go
Sometimes I contemplate about my own self-destruction.
I wonder if I am at fault for the way this state has simply become a dreadful inevitability.
I wonder if I am at fault for the way my mind hums with a silence that scratches my soul.
I wonder if I am at fault for the visceral, undeniable pull that tugs at my sternum.
Fatigue.
It’s a conflictive concept.
It’s practical. It’s biological. It’s physical.
But for me, it’s the definition of my existence.
It’s the medical complications that pile up through my fingernails like tangled vines on a hanging tree.
It’s the pocket-sized triggers that push me back into a room with claw marks on the door.
It’s the way that no matter who I am, what I am, or where I am, I will always be a victim of exhaustion.
Not the sleepy, heavy-lidded homesick type.
But the invisible type.
The blood-itching need for evaporation.
The throat-clamping desire for combustion.
The tear-scarred plea for deterioration.
And I wonder if all I am meant to be is a hanging tree;
vexed by the vines of her own making and hung by the carvings of her own captivity.
I often wonder if I’m at fault for the chances we never got to take.
You’ll never get to experience my love and I, yours.
I ache to think it’ll always be too late.
We don't need such drivel..Rather genuine
Ed-u-cation classes of fifteen children the
Max will create better results..Than
Other cheap hacks.' Under conteporary
Systems..We note results.' Wonder much
Longer.. somethings at fault.? Is it the
Said-u-cation being taught?
As I sit gazing upon the unsympathetic clock.
Wiling away these last few dread filled hours.
Stirring my tea, or is it stirring me?
Confusion reigns.
My weary eyes plummet toward the newest envelope on the oak birthed table.
The Violet Grape Purple one, fore it is pregnant with the last love filled endowments of my now ex-wife.
Before when I had the guiltless luck to call her mine.
Or am I at fault?
Either way the staring envelope is all that reminds me.
Why did you have to come in the post just as I was forgetting?
Just when I was becoming too tired to care, about her presence in my bed , in my soul.
Reap me , tear me, but please don't remind me of her.
Wildflowers and persimmons the power in her laugh.
At long last I can stand no more, I gather the mocking, accursed letter and in a rush in a chair I alight.
By the fire I strain to throw you in.
I pitch back instead, hurtling down, down.
On the floor I weep.
I was told Jews were colonists and white
I wondered how to test if that was right
So I looked up genes, a simple approach but bright
Found Jews are at least half Canaanite.
This was found by looking at more than one Neolithic mound.
Bodies, bones, before the Iron age, DNA could be found
I bet my know-it-all debater hadn't thought of looking at that
He looks at debate as throwing me on the mat.
Who belongs in Israel is an ongoing fight
Interestingly, the Arabic speakers are also part Canaanite
But the relationship with Jews is uneasy at best.
Still, there was a way to test.
Europe's prehistory can be tested too
Most residents died, we look for a clue
5000 years ago, some evidence it was disease
Eurasian steppe peoples took over the keys
If you admire Stonehenge, please know
The people who built it had nowhere to go
Most of their descendants were gone by 2000 B.C
No one at fault, seek the truth and be free.
What Can't Functions
Divert
Divert to
Diversion bill of assembly program text
Fault line
At fault line
At fault line data structure
Funding language of global variables
In hedgemony or
Supplemental grant writing policy
Development Funding and Policy
The importance of information and capability building with particular
reference to Tonga
Russell C. Taylor
September 2018
Thesis Submitted for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy from the
National Centre for Research on Europe at the University of Canterbury
Supply and Demand economics
Thousand Oaks California possibilities
Exam failure in definition of policy physics theory and laws
The rage prevails
On nights like these
When reason fails
And anger breeds
It matters not
The efforts made
The tension’s hot
Foundation laid
The venom spews
From your mouth
You leave no clues
Of what went south
We all must guess
On what, the cause
To start this mess
And prime your claws
And even when
We challenge you
You twist a spin
Deny your blues
You’ll cease to claim
Where you’re at fault
Won’t taint your name
You won’t be caught
My Person
I can't wait for the day
When my Person
Get me
Like he asks
Hey, how was your day ?
Saying all kinds of things
I like him to say
Compliments I dig those
Be my man
Let it show
I want that real glow
The butterflies ??
By my boy
Ooooohh you give me joy
I love conversing
With my Person
He gets me
He knows
The love he has for me
It shows
When I get good news
You are the first one I call
You like my personal attorney
You know it all
I trust you , you trust me
That's how it's supposed to be
Late talks
Night walks
We fell for each other
Who was at fault
When feelings are caught
And they feel right
We feel all cheesy
When we in each other sight
I love conversing
With my Person
He gets me
He knows
The love he has for me
It shows
Hook
I cant hide it
And neither can you
My Person, make me feel brand new
(Repeat 1x)
I love conversing
With my Person
He gets me
He knows
The love he has for me
It shows
(Repeat until chorus fades )
Written by Concetta Hardnett
08/20/2025
WHO IS NEVER AT FAULT
Selah Selah Selah
eh eh eh wooo!
A wooo oh woo woo...
Who is at never, at fault;
Beloved we all stumbled,
In many ways yet even in this;
Already been dismissed;
It's been nailed to the cross;
Our past present and future hurts;
And imperfect that I am;
I am love loved not judged;
Even in my mistakes;
Oh my my my
why why why
Oh! Perfect God love an imperfect me;
When I am at fault past present future tense;
Have already been forgiven;
Who is at never at fault;
Though I do make faults My Father has already forgiven Hallelujah
8/9/25
Written words by
James Edward Lee Sr.
Kind of Pidgin style
She held out a rose, with a smile,
although I was at fault;
her gesture pure and free from guile,
her aura did exalt.
By her love infected,
parallax corrected,
her light I reflected.
In tranquil repose ~
She held out a rose
Blame
Everyone likes to point fingers and
Make sure someone else is
Always at fault, but that can be a
Lame excuse when the finger pointers share the
Blame.
milan mural
subtle details
perpetual
da Vinci
sets diners
to glory
the last supper
salt spill on earth
mortal at fault
moving
symmetry
complex
allusion
art divine
remains
remain
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