The more days I spend talking to you
The more,my love for you fades.
My heart beats quieter seeing
Your eyes once stars, dim.
Your voice a sweet tone
that carried honey.
Now bitter.
I still love you,
but I don't want you.
Your hapless actions-
Fill me with guilt.
I don't know what to do,
you ask once more
"Is this love true?"
The question hurts
as I can't even look at you.
Fair maiden with the locks of molten gold,
Whose gentle grace doth make the sun seem dim,
No earthly treasure that the heavens hold
Can match thy virtue, pure in every limb.
Thine eyes, like morning dew upon the rose,
Do awaken all my spirit with delight;
When darkness falls and all the world doth close,
Thy shining tresses guide me through the night.
Sweet lady, let my humble heart draw near,
To tender thee a vow that shall endure;
Through every changing season of the year,
My love for thee abides forever sure.
No fleeting time can fade thy radiant hair,
Nor dim the sweet perfection of thy face;
For God hath framed no creature half so fair,
Nor crowned a maiden with so bright a grace.
Proposal
_____________
By: Muchov Nuttin
Ababstract
________________
To introduce vast amounts of sodium to rough raw sand aka silca.
Objective
------------------
To create sodium crystals that extract gold coloring from sand.
To extract iron from sad to create an ironized crystal.
Overall objective
----------------------------
To extract pure gold in large qualities.
Idea
----------
Using desert sand and beach sand
Injecting hot malta like sodium into
Both raw and rough( sand) materials.
To inspire an ironish state of matter
There red crystals can be visible known
Rubato odvious
to the visible eye as ironized silca.
There the extraction of gold can occur.
"Rubato Odvious" a state were the reds
indicate the presence of gold.
Profet Objective
-------------------------------------
To make this way of gold mining
the most profitable way of doing
So.
Written: September 17, for a contest sponsored by: John Lawless
***********
I flipped the book with a steady hand,
chapters etched as runes into the sand.
The tale was tangled, the lead crowned,
beyond, silence fell, no closing to be found.
The final leaf had vanished, sly and fleet,
perhaps devoured by some voracious beet.
Or maybe scribes, with quizzacious delight,
slipped it away to prank the sleepless night.
I searched the margins, parsed each crabbed line,
for clues the author left in sly design.
A smudge, a doodle, statice pressed in place—
but no denouement, no triumphant grace.
So now I tell the tale with aplomb:
the villain married, bought a stately home.
The hero tripped, repined, then took a nap—
the dragon joined a choir, and learned to rap.
And if you ask what moral can be spun,
I’ll say: beware a most distant sun.
For endings hide, as frenemy or ghost—
the last page missing always laughs the most.
I stepped out yesterday,
with no money for food,
no money for rent.
Only a T-shirt, jeans, and shoes,
that's enough, I told myself.
In my bag, my laptop,
my copies, my pen.
I am writing two things now,
one book, Always Go Up,
and one novel about my life.
I have nothing in my hands,
but I have a dream in England,
to become a PhD doctor.
I don't know how I will pay,
I don't know how I will eat,
but I know I will make my dream come true.
Low-effort is the mission
Low-effort's a decision
Low-effort ambition
Low-effort nutrition
Low-effort corruption
Low-effort seductions
Low-effort deductions
Low-effort assassins
Low-effort passion
Low-effort fashion
Low-effort obesity
Low-effort poetry
Low-effort parents
Low-effort presents
Low-effort president
Low-effort arrogance
Low-effort adolescents
Low-effort embarrassment
Low-effort communication
Low-effort conversations
Low-effort imaginations
Low-effort motivations
Low-effort deterriation
Low-effort information
Low-effort physicians
Low-effort inhibitions
Low-effort politicians
Low-effort inspiration
Low-effort education
Low-effort vacation
Low-effort nation
Low-effort voting
Low-effort tech
Low-effort sex
Low-eff
low
.
.
A song for this:
Sexy to Someone by Clairo
act like you know (feat. Muni Long) [E]
Let me lie down for a while
To watch the clouds formless wags
Their silver linings in the sky
Can’t be corroded by the rains
Intangible, ephemeral
That silver shines too bright
To last for longer, on the roll
Of the wild winds I might
Feel for a minute, maybe two
Or three, if I continue
To watch the sky in search of you
Although I live within you.
WANNA DANCE LIKE DAVID
DA DA DA DA DA DANCE
Wanna dance like David danced, with all his might, leaping, whirling
Humility, Unreserved Joy, Ignoring Pride
Wanna dance like David
Wanna dance like David danced, with all his might, leaping, whirling
Celebrating return of the Ark of the Covenant was brought into Jerusalem
In leaps and bounds, I’m gonna praise Him
With mine legs and feet, I’m gonna praise Him
With the power of my voice and tongue, I’m gonna sing hymns sing His songs
Wanna dance like David, Wanna dance like David
Dances before the Lord, Wanna dance like David
Removed my royal robes, Wanna dance like David
And wore a simple linen, Wanna dance like David
Dancing praises holy, Wanna dance like David
Cloth or naked, holy glory, Wanna dance like David
9/15/26
Written by James Edward Lee & The Corinthian©
Sweet devotion
You are everything I ever wanted
You hello Say to me
You never say that to me friend
Sweet devotion
I don't know how to live
Without you
I need you every hour my friend
Do you love me friend?
Let me hear yes
Over the years, looking across the tables at you
ambiance may change
meals range from simple
to aromas meandering tropical islands
roaming ports of call in far-off lands
the little Diner of long ago
caught in a torrential downpour
afterwards the petrichor aura
riding home with you
there remains that infrangible moment
when your tableware searches for another morsel
caught up in a moment intent
looking up, your eyes meet mine
a Duchenne smile adorned by doves perching
upon the Cupid's bow you wear
the moment i am reminded
reaching across the table
the oxytocin in touching your hand
rainbows are forever
Eugene 8/25/26
I do the washing
i don't say anything
I half to cook
& I wont talk back
The mom
mame'
the wife
Ms. Sheila
I do it all
every night
everyday
it never gets old
when I'm nervous
I take pills
he hits the wall
It never fails
He's dad
He's mad as hell
He wont stop
he is a husband
I carry the rings
I needle alone
Where are the kids
in the rom?
We must accomplish more
We are never separated
when will it stop
when he is gone'
That's when ill be gone
gone home with my mamma'
Line of inquiry:
“Neither desire nor aversion
Meditation our immersion
Conditioned beliefs discarded
Hymns we hum are our own version”
A child I was, when Nuns taught me in school;
so God was with me from an early age.
The catechism shaped for me each rule-
my soul's foundation at this tender stage,
to help unlock a door I would engage.
My reading about God was not the key-
but seeing what He is- enlightened me.
That feeling that He's near in all I do,
the balances of nature, my guarantee-
internal hymns of love, faith, hope, accrue.
I sing the hymn of Love through family,
and feel God's care is echoed from each heart.
I sing the Hymn of Faith, a tapestry
of sunset glow that leads to a fresh start,
and sing my Hymn of Hope on new day's chart.
Love, Faith, and Hope are His Amazing Grace-
my heart and soul, with God there, interface.
Some day the wind will
blow our direction
Breeze at a wonderful pace
No that finally we won the race
We took our time and space
Obligation to fill
But now is time to fulfill
Our togetherness fits the bill
As the wind blows by
and carries us above
Some day are vows will be said
Never a doubt in our heads
Nothing to fear or dread
In our time and space
The waiting was not fun
we missed some time in
the sunshine of the summer
But falls blooms with lovely weather
And carries us above
Back to the Mount of Olives
Back to prayer and surrender.
Back to the feet of Jesus
Back to repentance rendered.
Back to a place of brokeness
Back to earnest pleading.
Back to our faces to the ground
Back to see Jesus bleeding.
Back to new consecration
Back to submission and tears.
Back to persevering prayer
Back to reverent fear.
Back to praying against temptation
Back to one hour of prayer.
Back to appalled by a misused kiss
Back to commitment there.
Back to a solitary place
Back to review what your call is.
Back to "fervently seek first His kingdom"
Back to the Mount of Olives.
Sometimes I feel
as if my soul hung by a slender thread
of my mother’s raven-black hair.
I remember…
her breasts beneath a floral blouse,
secretly reading the forbidden novel, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame,
with a flashlight under the blanket,
and the worn figurine of a Japanese geisha
father used to stroke from time to time.
Even in old age, I like to curl up in bed,
as I did in the womb before birth.
And wearing my mother’s stretched-out violet sweater,
I never feel lonely.
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