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I had grown up in a humanist atmosphere, and war to me was never anything but horror, mutilation and senseless destruction, and I knew that many great and wise people felt the same way about it.

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Feelin' The Same Way

The sun just slipped its note below my door
And I can't hide beneath my sheets
I've read the words before so now I know
The time has come again for me

And I'm feelin' the same way all over again
Feelin' the same way all over again
Singin' the same lines all over again
No matter how much I pretend

Another day that I can't find my head
My feet don't look like they're my own
I'll try and find the floor below to stand
And I hope I reach it once again

And I'm feelin' the same way...

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Feelin The Same Way

The sun just slipped its note below my door
And I cant hide beneath my sheets
Ive read the words before so now I know
The time has come again for me
And Im feelin the same way all over again
Feelin the same way all over again
Singin the same lines all over again
No matter how much I pretend
Another day that I cant find my head
My feet dont look like theyre my own
Ill try and find the floor below to stand
And I hope I reach it once again
And Im feelin the same way...

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Just The Same Way

Yesterday was a good day,
Its after midnight and Ive got you on my mind.
Come with me never go away,
Every day we will fly, yeah.
Thats the same way you love me. (thats the same way she loves you).
Ooo, just the same way you do. (just the same way you do).
Just the same way you love me. (just the same way she...)
Loves.
Take a chance now the timings right.
Youre free to leave the key to my life.
Stay with me.
Wont you stay the night,
In the mornin feelin fine, yeah.
(chorus)
Oh, no, you should be holdin on to him girl.
Oh, yeah just like, just like you want to do.
Oh, no, just love and squeeze him girl.
Oh, yeah just love and squeeze him yeah.
(chorus)

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The Same Way I Do

Written by John Mellencamp
Before you go to sleep
And close your eyes
I'd like to kiss you
One more time
Touch your lips
Perhaps your soul
I'll be still and say no more
Oh tell me do you feel the same way I do
Well the night was sweet
You filled the air
Your gentle hands touched me everywhere
I don't want this moment to end
I'm afraid that we can't find it again
Oh tell me do you feel the same way I do
Oh tell me do you feel the same way I do
The fragile bond
Between us here
Would take to build, a thousand years
Before you close your eyes
Just one more kiss
A million years before we feel like this
Oh tell me do you feel the same way I do
Oh tell me do you feel the same way I do
How can I trust my feelings
In a moment that's always changing
Tell me do you feel the same way I do
The same way I do
Hey do you feel
Yea do you feel
Hey do you feel
The same way I do

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Do You Feel the Same Way Too?

I’ve just written to a friend and said

I’ve just written a poem
which I would have given my life
to have written.’…

and then sat and looked at
what I’d written –
wondering whether
that was what I really meant..

(and, faintly, contemplating
whether a thunderbolt
straight from Justice central
might strike me there and then…)

or whether I’d retreated into
some private world of self-delusion..

or whether I had reached the height
of mortal bliss.. as perhaps some ‘real’ poet might…
when on the scales of life-for-life
or perhaps, eternity,
I was offering humbly, in exchange
for all I have received, all
that my soul could offer…

discarding all the burdens of the past,
disregarding any thoughts of future life,
living in the present, like a child does,
as, glorious, the present presently moves on
from freedom into freedom… tell me,

do you feel the same way too?

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Anniversaries are for old fools like me

My love,
The feeling for me is the same as it was then,
when I first touched your soft gorgeous hand
as you passed me a glass of wine with my dinner.
I remember dreaming about kissing your full lips
later that night and holding your soft waist and hips
in my arms; not knowing if you felt the same way about me.
I would wait patiently for hours to pass so that I might
find another reason as an excuse to call and hear your voice
say my name in a way only you could. I would put my ear to the phone
trying to be closer to you and although I knew
how silly that was, it didn’t mater to me…because with you
silly was how I became whenever I said your name.
And so, these many years later, on our anniversary;
I remain, your silly old fool…
and I still love you more than ever…

2008 © T Sheridan

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The same people live...the same people die

The same people live, the same people die,
the same people laugh, the same people cry,
as they push on through, life's open door,
the old and the young, the rich and the poor.

The same people love, the same people hate,
the skeptics of heaven, the mockers of fate,
some use the gun, some just don't choose,
the proud and the vain, they win and they lose.

Death takes them all, the end's all the same,
no one can help us, cause no one's to blame,
When the door shuts and the bright lights go dim,
We all follow the same path and we all go to Him.

The same people live, the same people die,
Some still find wealth, while others get by,
the weak and the strong, the slow and the fast,
alone on life's journey, they all stumble past.

It's been this way, since the beginning of time,
To live...it's a joy, to die...it's a crime,
and still, we question and still, we ask why?
The same people live...the same people die.

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Who Keep What I Feel Felt Real

As described by those who are now mired,
In dire straits.
I am sure the pain felt is real.
I felt the same way about my own.
And when I healed,
With the understanding how that was done...
Those now with long faces,
Were nowhere to be traced.

Most of them were racing...
From mall to mall.
With shopping as the agenda.

And with those expressed feelings,
From a few to show me I was still someone...
In their hearts and minds.
I realized this...
They are the kinds of people in my life I prioritize.
They are the kinds of people in my life,
Who keep what I feel felt real and me alive inside.
At the top of my list they are.
They are the kind of people I need not think twice,
To shower with my full respect.

The rest?
I wish them all the best.
They are not of my concern.
What has been earned...
Has already been issued, valued and satisfied.
No masquerades, charades or disguises needed.
What has been earned...
Has already been issued, valued and satisfied.
And with that between us known...
Apologies expressed are few and limited.

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Green Eyes

Those gorgoues green eyes of yours how could I forget? I'm afraid in my memory they will always live
The memory of those eyes I'm afraid will be with me forever, yes the memory of them I'll never be able to sever
I use to see those green eyes everyday, all I hope now is that over the years they haven't changed
In those green eyes I use to get lost, never once thinking about if I were to make them mine, what me it would cost
I use to count the hours, the minutes, the seconds til you I would see again, even though I told everyone otherwise, I wanted you desperatly to be so much more than a friend
Even though I knew you felt the same way about me, in the back of my mind was a constant reminder of how we couldn't be
That very thought use to cause me so much pain, but I forced myself to move on, and even though it's hard to think about I know you've probably done the same
There are days when I think about you and I hope you're doing fine, but I hope I never see you or those green eyes again not for your sake but for mine
Because I know that if I ever come face to face with those gorgoues green eyes of yours again, that resistance will be futile, and this time around we'll definatly end up being more that friends

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Frivolous And Trivial Are Not The Same

Do you 'really' wish to know,
Just how frivolous these times we live...
Can be?
I am not out to prove this.
But it was you who stated with authority,
I was exaggerating!
And did so with sarcasism and negativity.

You have a TV I am sure?
Most people today have three.
Uplug your video games from one of them.
And tune into your news channels...
With a listening done to how your politicians,
Plan with your money...
To control your destiny.

After you've done that...
Tune into 'any' REALITY TV program.
These shows reflect,
With a bit of entertainment injected...
Just what is outside your door.

'First of all!
I did not say these times were frivolous.
I said they were trivial! '
Frivolous and trivial are not the same.
And I didn't have to go to college to know that! '

Ooooohhhh...
I see!
Forgive me.
How could I have ever mistaken the difference.
Sorry to interrupt your video game.

'No problem.
This is the only 'reality' I REALLY get.'

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The way I feel about you

The way I feel about you
Today
Tomorrow
Next week next month
Next year,
I will always love you
I will change, you will change
My love for you will reamain the same
You lifted me up
When I couldn't reach
You gave me strength
When I was weak
You were my light
When it was dark
Now all I want to do is be happy and love you
Tomorrow's here and I still feel the same about you
Next week will come
Next month will come
Even next year will come
I shall feel the same way about you
I will always feel that way about you

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The way i feel

Today Tomarrow next week next month next year, I will always love you. I will change, you will change but my love for you will never change. You lifted me up when i couldn't reach. you gave me strength when i was weak. You were my light when it was dark. Now all I want to do is be happy and love you. Tomarrow is here and I still feel the same about you. Next week will come jsut like next month and next year will come and I shall feel the same way. I always feel that way about you.

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Not On the Same Page

'You can't expect others to feel,
The same way you feel about what you do! '

Oh!
Oh..okay!
At least I know now,
How you feel about things!
That's a relief.
You can get off my back now.
And hand me the water supply.
Along with the maps I've drawn...
With names and addresses,
To assist you if anything should happen to me!
I see what you mean.
It is a lighter weigh to carry...
Once clarification is understood for what it is!

Thank you!
I didn't realize we were not on the same page!
You have made my outlook much more easier.

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Patrick White

The Only Way To Control Things

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
Water on rock
a fist can't do anything to stop the rain
that keeps washing its bloody knuckles
by kissing the raw red buds
of the pain-killing poppies clean.
Anger grows ashamed of itself
in the presence of unopposable compassion
just as planets are humbled by their atmospheres.
The soft supple things of life insist
and the hard brittle ones comply.
Bullies are the broken toys of wimps.
Power limps.
But space is an open hand.
Mass may shape it
but it teaches matter how to move
just as the sky converts its openness
into a cloud and a bird
or the silence nurtures
the embryo of a blue word
in the empty womb of the dark mother
like the echo of something that can't be said.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
Not a posture of giving.
Not a posture of receiving.
Not a posture of greeting or farewell.
Not hanging on or letting go
but the single bridge they both make
when they're both at peace with the flow.
It's not the branch it's not the trunk
it's not the root it's not the fruit
but the open handedness of its leaves
that is a tree's consummate passion.
Isis tattoos her star on their palms
like sailors and sails
to keep them from drowning
and into the valleys of their open hands
that lie at the foot of their crook-backed mountains
the aloof stars risk the intimacy of fireflies
and fate flows down like tributaries into the mindstream
as life roots its wildflowers on both shores
as if there were no sides to the flowing
of our binary lifelines.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
You cannot bind the knower to the knowing
as if time had to know where eternity was going
before anything could change.
X marks the spot where all maps are born
to lead you back to yourself
like a treasure you forgot to bury.
An open hand is a ploughed field ready for seed.
An open hand is the generosity that is inherent in need.
An open hand is and is not an open hand.
No hinges can define it
because it's not a two-faced Janus
standing in the doorway of a new year.
An open hand doesn't look forward.
And open hand doesn't look back.
What opens like a flower doesn't close like a door
and when a hand opens
it opens at the urging of a light within
that makes the light without
glow like the mother of wine.
An open hand isn't the writing on the wall.
Moses came down the mountain with a stone tablet
but an open hand makes
an avalanche of the ten commandments
and goes its own way without submission or regret
like a vine with a prehensile grip.

An open hand is the only way to control things
when things are out of control.
It isn't a day of yes followed by a night of no.
There's nothing divine or infernal about it.
An open hand is all that humans need to know
about their own nature
when they let their gods and demons go.
Nothing missing.
Nothing complete.
An open hand is enlightenment.
A fist puts a bad spin on ignorance.
An open hand is a book older than the Bible.
An open hand isn't a tool
or a new kind of stealth weapon.
An open hand isn't a weathervane
or a rudder in the wind
or one wing of a bird
with a secret twin.

An open hand is the only way to control things
without killing them for their own good.
An open hand does not say thou shalt not
or you should.
An open hand is not a white flag of surrender
a victory flag or a sloppy salute.
It's not the price tag you look at
when no one is looking
on a second-hand suit
you've been wearing out like a body for years.
An open hand isn't the hesitant offer of an uncertain friend
held out like a placebo that can't heal anything.
You might have fixed the palings
but you still haven't mended the fence.
An open hand is the way things feel when you're truly alive.
It's got nothing to do with how the fittest survive.
An open hand is the afterlife of a fist that died in defeat
trying to unseat an older power
that swallows it like a god
dissolves a cube of sugar in water
and finds it sweet to be absolved of the deed.
An open hand is a cup that could hold an ocean
but never overflows.
An open hand isn't a relic of the thorns
that pinned a butterfly messiah
to the webbed cross of a sacrilegious spider
or Ciceronian appendages nailed to a senate door
like a bill that didn't pass
or Che Guevara's hands cut off
by the people they laboured for like rebel fruit
that went against the grain of the tree
that poisoned everybody like a jackboot.
An open hand isn't a proposal for reform.
It's not the new norm.
It's not what not to do
when people are watching you
to see if you're the same as them.

An open hand is the only way to control things
when you don't know what to do
at the genetic crossroads
of cosmic and domestic things
that weigh on your mind
like the dirty laundry of evolution
piling up in the corners
like falling standards of confusion.
It doesn't question anything
so it never rejects an answer.
It doesn't pretend to be the sign
that beatifies its own suggestion.
An open hand isn't trying to make
a housewife of an iris
or trying to nail things down
to get a grip on things
like a man who knows how to suffer like a floor.
An open hand isn't something
worth living or dying for.
It won't save your life.
It won't take it.
It's not a lifeboat or an anchor.
Four fingers and a conductor for a thumb
don't make a choir of flesh
that will make the angels come like groupies
and just because
you've got runners on four bases
doesn't mean you can hit a home run
like the stand-in umpire
behind the home plate of your palm.
Four men out and one man on
and the thumb bunts to the outfield
in the last inning of a pre-fixed playoff game
that shaves the score like a pencil into points.
An open hand is the only way to disarm a fist
that buries the road you're on
like an improvised explosive device
timed to go off in your face like a hand grenade.
The only way to control things without controlling them
is with an open hand.
An open hand does not deny or affirm.
An open hand legislates like the light
and judges like the rain.
Five fingers are the roots of a hung jury.
Five syllables of an incommensurable life sentence.
An open hand isn't the servile agent of a wilful mind.
It doesn't do anyone's bidding.
It isn't the delta at the end of a long river
whose life flashes before its eyes
like an ancient civilization
as it disappears into the sea.
An open hand doesn't squat on the ground
like some denuded navel-gazer
who mistakes his belly-button for his third eye.
An open hand says as much to the deaf as the blind.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
An open hand is the sign of a mind at rest
with what it doesn't understand.
An open hand isn't a contract with anything.
An open hand isn't a flatlining fist.
An open hand is a loveletter that doesn't insist
on being returned like a dove
that's just discovered land.
An open hand is the fairest image of a god
ever created in the likeness of a human.
An open hand is the omnidirectional threshold
of the homelessness we built
on a cornerstone of quicksand
like water moonlighting as a rose.
An open hand isn't celibate or promiscuous.
An open hand warms itself
around the cold fires of the stars
and tells tall tales about the constellations
of scars and callouses that have sprung up
like villages along its lifelines.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
An open hand is a myth of origins
that ends where it begins.
An open hand makes no distinction
between matter and mind.
An open hand is the enlightened gesture
of a human who knows without grasping
what they don't understand
and welcomes without expectation
all those who cross over it like the floor
and pass under it like the roof
of a house without a door or a window
to keep anything in or out.
An open hand is as certain as doubt
it doesn't know what it's all about
but the only way to control things
when they're coming apart
and coming together
is with a hand
as open as an ample heart
that gets it by letting it go
one breath one death
one footstep one heartbeat
one spring one autumn
one hail and farewell after another.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
An open hand rests in its power like the flower
the Buddha gave away to Ananda
as all he could and couldn't and wouldn't say.
Seekers look for starmaps to paradise
like the night looking for the day
that shines all around them
and blinds them.
But look as they may
an open hand is always the way that finds them.

The only way to control things is with an open hand
that binds us to the boundlessness
of letting go of who we are
like a star on the lam
that poured itself out like insight
to say to the night I am.
This is my hand.
It's open.

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Hunter S. Thompson

I feel the same way about disco as I do about herpes.

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If the entire team can feel the same way about these things, you can consistently remain a winner.

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Richard Bach

I want to be very close to someone I respect and admire and have somebody who feels the same way about me.

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Kiefer Sutherland

I liked the ceremony, the ritual of preparing cocaine, as much as doing it. I did it for a year, loved it, then stopped. Now I feel the same way about cooking.

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Wole Soyinka

I found, when I left, that there were others who felt the same way. We'd meet, they'd come and seek me out, we'd talk about the future. And I found that their depression and pessimism was every bit as acute as mine.

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I feel the same way about solitude as some people feel about the blessing of the church. It's the light of grace for me. I never close my door behind me without the awareness that I am carrying out an act of mercy toward myself.

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