Fundamental of Liar Chapter XCIII: Choice
If you have to choose, choose the one that most important
If you hardly choose, pretend that one of them is not important
If you still can not choose, just dump all the options and make a new one
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Burning Ground
And I take you down to the burning ground
And you change me up and you turned it around
In the wind and rain Im gonna see you again
In the morning sun and when the day is done
And you take my hand and you walk with me
Sometimes it feels like eternity
And I turn the tide I get back my pride
And I make you proud wont you say it out loud
When I take you down to the burning ground
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
And I take you down by the factory
And I show you like it has to be
And you understand how the work is done
And I pick up the sack in the midday sun
And I pull you through by the skin of your teeth
And I lift the veil, I see whats underneath
And you return to me and you sit on your throne
And you make me feel that Im not alone
And I take you down to the burning ground
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
To the burning ground
Hey man, whats that youre carrying?
Feels like lead
It weighs a ton - lets see if we can dump it by the side of the hill
Hey wait up, why dont you dump it on the burning ground
Dump it down there
Yeh man, dump the jute
Hey man dump the jute on the burning ground
Dump the jute?
Yeh you know, dump the jute
Dump the jute!
On the burning ground
On the burning ground
And you make me think what its all about
Sometimes I know gonna work it out
And I watch you run in the crimson sun
Tear my shirt apart open up my heart
And I watch you run
Down on your bended knees
By the burnt out well
Can you tell me please
Between heaven and hell
Wont you take me down
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
And you fall and pray, when you hear that sound
As were walking back to the burial mound
And you shake your head and you turn it around
And you see the flames from the burning ground
[...] Read more
song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dump The Dude
Hey girl, I wanna give you some friendly advice
Hes got you cryin, oh hes done it again
Hes made a date and he didnt show
You know hes done this to you so many times
When you gonna let him go
He doesnt treat you little a lover should
He could be so downright cruel
Cant understand why youre hangin with him
Girl, dont you be a fool
Go on and dump the dude
You know hes got a rotten attitude
He always leaves you in a cryin mood
Take my advice, dont you think twice
Listen to what Im telling you
Go on and dump the dude
You know that weve been friends for so many years
And Ive never ever seen you this way
So torn apart, how he gets to your heart
With all the little games that he plays
Just give him up, get him out of your life
Promise me that once and for all
Youre gonna tell him that its over and done
The very next time he calls, aint you now
Dump the dude
You know hes got a rotten attitude
He always leaves you in a cryin mood
Take my advice, find somebody nice
Listen to what Im telling you
Go on and dump the dude
Girl, I know you may think this is none of my business
But the fact that were friends I believe that makes it my business
I care about you but I aint preachin
I think you should dump the dude
I dont know why youd want to settle for less
When you could have so much more
You know that you deserve only the best
So what are you waiting for?
Go on and dump the dude
You know hes got a rotten attitude
He always leaves you in a cryin mood
Take my advice, dont you think twice
Find yourself somebody nice
Go on and dump the dude
song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Options
Options, options, options,
ever too many choices.
Purple, Black, Blue or Green,
so many whispering voices;
Clint Eastwood, Kirk Douglas, Charly Sheen.
Options, options, options,
your thoughts bubbling away.
No time to choose but Delay:
'Sticks and stones can't break my bones,
but Options they can kill you still!
poem by Madrason writer
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When You Dump Dung
When you,
Dump dung.
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
I said,
...
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
When you dump dung,
With a stinging that stuns...
It only closes up eyes.
It doesn't open up a mind,
To empathize...
The reason or the why for the doing.
When you dump dung,
With a stinging that stuns...
It only closes up eyes.
It doesn't open up a mind,
To empathize...
The reason or the why for the doing.
When you,
Dump dung.
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
I said,
When you dump dung...
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
When a dummy does a dung dumped.
Nobody stays around but runs to hide.
To leave before the spreading of the stench comes.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Yinged and Yanged
If I never ever see you,
You'd be fine!
And I'd be too!
If you never see the 'me' I am,
I still will not deserve
To be kicked to the curb and slammed.
'Cause I believe I've yinged and yanged my needs.
Doing yoga to get over.
Making my life much more easier for me.
And I do it to get over the hump!
I do it to get over the hump.
Yes I do it to get over the hump.
Taking every lump and crushing it to dump!
I do it to get over the hump!
I do it to get over the hump.
Yes I do it to get over the hump.
Taking every lump and crushing it to dump!
If I never ever see you,
You'd be fine!
And I'd be too!
'Cause I believe I've yinged and yanged my needs.
Doing yoga to get over.
Making my life much more easier me.
And I do it to get over the hump!
I do it to get over the hump.
Yes I do it to get over the hump.
And taking every lump and crushing it to dump!
I do it to get over the hump!
I do it to get over the hump.
Yes I do it to get over the hump.
And taking every lump and crushing it to dump!
'Cause I do yoga.
And I ain't bi-polar.
I don't drink soda.
To stir my motor.
As I grow older,
I don't cry on shoulders.
I get right up!
And I strut my stuff,
With a strength that's tough.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Idea Track
Dear Hugh Miller
Ive thought it through for a while but it doesnt get any easier
And three months on in this bad design wont make it feel any easier
Your grave, its your grave
Dear Hugh Miller
Its four months now from when we started and nothing feels much easier.
I sit and stare in a cork tiled room and it doesnt get much easier.
Your grave, its your grave
Pretend it works a while, its transmitted live
Pretend it works a while (you dont try)
Pretend it works a while, its transmitted live
Pretend it works a while (dont try)
Dear Hugh Miller,
its four months now from when we started and nothing feels much easier.
I sit and stare in a cork tiled room and it doesnt get much easier.
Your grave, its your grave
Pretend it works a while, its transmitted live
Pretend it works a while (you dont try)
Pretend it works a while, its transmitted live
Pretend it works a while (dont try)
Your grave, its your grave
Pretend it works a while, its transmitted live
Pretend it works a while (you dont try)
Pretend it works a while, its transmitted live
Pretend it works a while (dont try)
I dont care if I dont have an idea track, its an idea track, its an idea
I dont care if I dont have an idea track, its an idea track, its an idea
Your grave, its your grave.
song performed by Idlewild
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sweetheart Like You
Well, the pressures down, the boss aint here,
He gone north, he aint around,
They say that vanity got the best of him
But he sure left here after sundown.
By the way, thats a cute hat,
And that smiles so hard to resist
But whats a sweetheart like you doin in a dump like this?
You know, I once knew a woman who looked like you,
She wanted a whole man, not just a half,
She used to call me sweet daddy when I was only a child,
You kind of remind me of her when you laugh.
In order to deal in this game, got to make the queen disappear,
Its done with a flick of the wrist.
Whats a sweetheart like you doin in a dump like this?
You know, a woman like you should be at home,
Thats where you belong,
Watching out for someone who loves you true
Who would never do you wrong.
Just how much abuse will you be able to take?
Well, theres no way to tell by that first kiss.
Whats a sweetheart like you doin in a dump like this?
You know you can make a name for yourself,
You can hear them tires squeal,
You can be known as the most beautiful woman
Who ever crawled across cut glass to make a deal.
You know, news of you has come down the line
Even before ya came in the door.
They say in your fathers house, theres many mansions
Each one of them got a fireproof floor.
Snap out of it, baby, people are jealous of you,
They smile to your face, but behind your back they hiss.
Whats a sweetheart like you doin in a dump like this?
Got to be an important person to be in here, honey,
Got to have done some evil deed,
Got to have your own harem when you come in the door,
Got to play your harp until your lips bleed.
They say that patriotism is the last refuge
To which a scoundrel clings.
Steal a little and they throw you in jail,
Steal a lot and they make you king.
Theres only one step down from here, baby,
Its called the land of permanent bliss.
Whats a sweetheart like you doin in a dump like this?
song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sweetheart Like You
Well the pressure's down,
the boss ain't here
he's gone North for a while
They said that vanity
Got the best of him
But he sure left here after sundown.
By the way, that's a cute hat that you're wearing
And that smile so hard to resist
What's a sweetheart like you doing in a dump like this?
You know I once knew a woman who looked like you
She wanted a whole man, not just a half
She used to call me Sweet Daddy, when I was a child
You kind of remind me of her when you laugh
To deal in this game, you must make the queen disappear
It's done with a flick of the wrist
What's a sweetheart like you doing in a dump like this?
You know a woman like you should be at home
It's where you truly belong
Watching out for someone who loves you true
Who would never never do you no wrong
Just how much abuse you can take? - Well,
There's no way to tell by that first lonely kiss
What's a sweetheart like you doing in a dump like this?
You know you could make a name of yourself
You can hear those tyres squeal
You can be known as the most beautiful woman
Whoever crawled across cut glass to make a deal ...
You know the news of you has come down the line
Even before you came in the door
They say in your father's house there's many mansions
Each one of them got a fire-proof floor
Snap out of it Baby, people are jealous of you
They smile in your face, but behind your back they hiss
What's a sweetheart like you doing in a dump like this?
Got to be an important person to come in here honey
Got to have done some evil deed
Got to have your own harm when you come in the door
Got to play your harp until your lips bleed ...
They say patriotism is the last refuge
To which a scoundrel claime
Steal a little, and they'll throw you in jail
Steal a lot, and they'll make you a king
There's only one step down from here Baby
It's the land of the permanent bliss -
So what's a sweetheart like you doing in a dump like this?
song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Man On The Dump
Day creeps down. The moon is creeping up.
The sun is a corbeil of flowers the moon Blanche
Places there, a bouquet. Ho-ho…The dump is full
Of images. Days pass like papers from a press.
The bouquets come here in the papers. So the sun,
And so the moon, both come, and the janitor's poems
Of every day, the wrapper on the can of pears,
The cat in the paper-bag, the corset, the box
From Esthonia: the tiger chest, for tea.
The freshness of night has been fresh a long time.
The freshness of morning, the blowing of day, one says
That it puffs as Cornelius Nepos reads, it puffs
More than, less than or it puffs like this or that.
The green smacks in the eye, the dew in the green
Smacks like fresh water in a can, like the sea
On a cocoanut—how many men have copied dew
For buttons, how many women have covered themselves
With dew, dew dresses, stones and chains of dew, heads
Of the floweriest flowers dewed with the dewiest dew.
One grows to hate these things except on the dump.
Now in the time of spring (azaleas, trilliums,
Myrtle, viburnums, daffodils, blue phlox) ,
Between that disgust and this, between the things
That are on the dump (azaleas and so on)
And those that will be (azaleas and so on) ,
One feels the purifying change. One rejects
The trash.
That's the moment when the moon creeps up
To the bubbling of bassoons. That's the time
One looks at the elephant-colorings of tires.
Everything is shed; and the moon comes up as the moon
(All its images are in the dump) and you see
As a man (not like an image of a man) ,
You see the moon rise in the empty sky.
One sits and beats an old tin can, lard pail.
One beats and beats for that which one believes.
That's what one wants to get near. Could it after all
Be merely oneself, as superior as the ear
To a crow's voice? Did the nightingale torture the ear,
Pack the heart and scratch the mind? And does the ear
Solace itself in peevish birds? Is it peace,
Is it a philosopher's honeymoon, one finds
On the dump? Is it to sit among mattresses of the dead,
Bottles, pots, shoes, and grass and murmur aptest eve:
Is it to hear the blatter of grackles and say
Invisible priest; is it to eject, to pull
[...] Read more
poem by Wallace Stevens
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Quick to Dump Their Junk
Some seem ready to jump into a garbage dump.
Quick to dump their junk,
And then start running.
Quicker to abuse their minds.
Quicker to find the time to whine.
And quick to say who's nuts...
And who ain't crazy.
It seems easier to walk away from people raging.
Easier to say who should be who they are.
Easier to start a fight.
Easier to say who's not living right.
And easier to be the one who sleeps at night.
Quick and easy it seems not to worry.
It appears some live lives free of mental strife.
Quick and easy it seems for them not to hurry.
When a life they choose to live,
Is not disguised by lies.
It seems some can take their lumps and not be moaning.
Or groan from Sunrise 'til that Sun goes down.
Whether they keep a faith.
Or pray every second of each day.
They don't walk around,
With a face to frown.
Why is it...
Some seem ready to jump into a garbage dump?
And why is it...
Some are quick to dump their junk,
And run?
Why are they...
Quicker to abuse their minds.
And why so quick are they to whine?
And quick they are to say who's nuts...
But they're not crazy.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Edisoned [1920 slang]
Just when I thought today
Was beginning to become a frog's eyebrows
Preceding the gansters episode
Surviving the Chicago lightning
And getting out of that dump
It bacame a Chinese angle
When hearing 'Grab a little air'
I get sapped with some nutcrackers
Then a couple of bean shooters
Are forced to my head
I then find myself in a pair of nippers
I've been pinched
I am sent over to the club house
I made [Kevin] a git-box player
With his mouthpiece
Aiding him to dust out
Must have been playing his git-box
At one of those beer flats
Places where he can play to make spinach to live
I also made this ladyleggar [Michelle]
With a couple of oyster fruit strands around her neck
Possibly paying off protection money
To keep the heat away from her establishment
It appears these flatties sure enjoy
Shaking down these joints
[...] Read more
poem by R.K. Cowles
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If It's Love!
It's important that unshown love,
Comes directly shown from you.
To say it...
Doesn't make,
That-love-be-true!
It's important that unshown love,
Is a thing one wants to do...
Just to prove what is said,
Is absolutely true.
A hug,
And maybe a kiss.
A touch,
That has been missed.
A show of thoughtfulness...
Can go a very long distance.
A call,
Every once in a while...
Will go further than a mile.
If love is there to be shared...
Show someone they are cared for!
And doubts will come no more.
It's important that unshown love,
Comes directly shown from you.
To say it...
Doesn't make,
That-love-be-true!
It's important it's directly shown,
If it's love.
Yes!
It's important it's directly shown,
If it's love.
Yes!
It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown,
If it's love!
It shoos a boo-hooin'...
Known.
It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown,
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Her
Baby, Ive been watching from a distance
And everything it rings familiarly, mmmm
But I cant imagine what you must be thinkin
Cuz she could never be what I can be
Oh, loneliness has really got you twisted
And theres so much your eyes dont even see, yeah
And then I laid my eyes upon your woman
And to my surprise I saw me lookin at me
But how could you be with her?
Her
You dont really love her, no
She
Cuz shes not me and i
I
I wont stand by and watch you pretend
So baby how could you?
Her
You dont really love her, no
She
Cuz shes not me and i
I
I cant stand by and watch you pretend
We parted so that we could make it better
Cuz boy, you said we needed time and space, mmm
We vowed that it was only temporary
But I never thought that I would be replaced
Now youre living all our dreams with another
And youre giving everything you promised me
Youre pretending were together when were nothing
But shes not me, she cant be, no
How could you be with her, oh baby
Her
You dont really love her, no, no
She
Cuz shes not me and i
I
I cant stand by and watch you pretend
So how could you play me?
Her
Cuz dont really love her, no
She
Cuz shes not me and i
I
I cant stand by and watch you pretend
I never thought that you would be hurting this way
And I never thought Id be without you, without you
You didnt have to run away to find me again
Cuz Ive always been here I am the real thing
So dont you pretend, oh
Her
[...] Read more
song performed by Kelly Price
Added by Lucian Velea
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Filippo Baldinucci on the Privilege of Burial
"No, boy, we must not"—so began
My Uncle (he's with God long since),
A-petting me, the good old man!
"We must not"—and he seemed to wince,
And lost that laugh whereto had grown
His chuckle at my piece of news,
How cleverly I aimed my stone—
"I fear we must not pelt the Jews!
"When I was young indeed,—ah, faith
Was young and strong in Florence too!
We Christians never dreamed of scathe
Because we cursed or kicked the crew.
But now, well, well! The olive-crops
Weighed double then, and Arno's pranks
Would always spare religious shops
Whenever he o'erflowed his banks!
"I'll tell you"—and his eye regained
Its twinkle—"tell you something choice!
Something may help you keep unstained
Your honest zeal to stop the voice
Of unbelief with stone-throw, spite
Of laws, which modern fools enact,
That we must suffer Jews in sight
Go wholly unmolested! Fact!
"There was, then, in my youth, and yet
Is, by our San Frediano, just
Below the Blessed Olivet,
A wayside ground wherein they thrust
Their dead,—these Jews,—the more our shame!
Except that, so they will but die,
Christians perchance incur no blame
In giving hogs a hoist to stye.
"There, anyhow, Jews stow away
Their dead; and,—such their insolence,—
Slink at odd times to sing and pray
As Christians do—all make-pretence!—
Which wickedness they perpetrate
Because they think no Christians see.
They reckoned here, at any rate,
Without their host: ha, ha, he, he!
"For, what should join their plot of ground
But a good Farmer's Christian field?
The Jews had hedged their corner round
With bramble-bush to keep concealed
Their doings: for the public road
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from Pacchiarotto (1876)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere
I can go anyway, way I choose
I can go anyway, way I choose
I can live anyhow, win or lose
I can live anyhow, win or lose
I can go anywhere, for something new
I can go anywhere, for something new
Anyway, anyhow, anywhere I choose
Anyway, anyhow, anywhere I choose
I can do anything, right or wrong
I can do anything, right or wrong
I can talk anyhow, and get along
I can talk anyhow, and get along
Dont care anyway, I never lose
Dont care anyway, I never lose
Anyway, anyhow, anywhere I choose
Anyway, anyhow, anywhere I choose
Nothing gets in my way
Nothing gets in my way
Not even locked doors
Not even locked doors
Dont follow the lines
Dont follow the lines
That been laid before
That been laid before
I get along anyway I dare
I get along anyway I dare
Anyway, anyhow, anywhere
Anyway, anyhow, anywhere
I can go anyway, way I choose
I can go anyway, way I choose
I can live anyhow, win or lose
I can live anyhow, win or lose
I can go anywhere, for something new
I can go anywhere, for something new
Anyway, anyhow, anywhere I choose
Anyway, anyhow, anywhere I choose
Anyway
Anyway
Anyway I choose, yeah
Anyway I choose, yeah
Anyway I wanna go, I wanna go n do it myself,
Anyway I wanna go, I wanna go n do it myself,
Do it myself
Do it myself
Do it myself, yeah
Do it myself, yeah
Anyway, way I choose
Anyway, way I choose
Anyway I choose
Anyway I choose
[...] Read more
song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Choose You
(r palmer)
I choose you
When love comes along you go with the flow
You should trust your feelings on it
When you get hit by the arrow youll know
Cupids aim is always on it
Its half past two now
Your face is lovely
Its only lit by candlelight
Just me and you here
Our room is quiet
Only our sighs and whispers
You dont choose who you fall in love with
You dont mess with the gods of love
You cant choose who you fall in love with
So I choose you
When love comes along you go with the flow
You should trust your feelings on it
When you get hit by the arrow youll know
Cupids aim is always on it
You mesmerise me
My head is spinning
This is much more than fantasy
Lost in your kisses
My senses tingle
We lose our inhibitions
You dont choose who you fall in love with
You dont mess with the gods of love
You cant choose who you fall in love with
So I choose you
Ohohohah
I choose
I choose you
I choose
I choose you
I choose
Oh babe I choose you
I choose
I choose you
Whooo
You dont choose who you fall in love with
You dont mess with the gods of love
You cant choose who you fall in love with
So I choose you
Whoo
You dont choose who you fall in love with
You dont mess with the gods of love
You cant choose who you fall in love with
So I choose you
song performed by Robert Palmer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Impoverished Like A Loser With A High IQ
Impoverished like a loser with a high IQ.
It’s a darker discipline than art
to learn to love what you must live.
The aristocratic penury of a poet
who keeps giving it all away
as if generosity were a form of protest
against the sock puppets of common sense
whose mouths move like empty wallets
when they speak of the lives they’re living.
We lived from rented dump to rented dump
and beautified the yards
with gardens we dug
and flowers we stole
from a better neighbourhood six blocks away
until it came time for the landlord to sell them
and we moved on to the next lunar landing
when I was a boy
and maybe that’s why
I’ve always seen things
as temporary ever since.
I give to people as if they knew
what I know
that everything we have
will be taken back soon enough
and you can’t keep what you won’t give away.
Life for example.
Or light. Flowers. Stars. Children. Poems.
More seeds in the autumn
than there are in the spring.
And because I’m so aware of time
I see so much eternity
in their tears and their smiles
everyone always seems to me
myself included
half ghost
and half mystic shadow
of the lucidity they could be for awhile.
I’m always urging brown stars like Jupiter
to shine a little harder
to open the other eye
of its three hundred year old methane hurricane
and greet the sun at midnight
like a peer of shining
that could set carbon and oxygen
on the spiritual path to us
like blind pilgrims on the way
to a shrine of eyes with liberating visions
that are released like doves
to look for land
by people who understand
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
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We Pretend We Play With Words
to soothe the choking effects of the day,
and those days that come to us like two walls
while we lay helpless in between, we pretend
we pretend to play with words, like we are simply
children scribbling words on the floor beyond
the ambit of paper
we pretend that this writing is nothing but little games.
we like to be just light feathers floating in the wind
looking at the petal of the flower
trying to choose which patch of grass to land,
we pretend this is just that
doodles, noodles, needles, neddles, doddles,
we pretend that this writing poetry has nothing to do
with what we are: feelings like words in a crossword puzzle
we tinker with meanings, we like to experiment with moods,
like handpainting on the walls and spraying paint
at the fences of our bad neighbors
trying to evade laws, of falling and flying and rising and dropping,
this is just a play of words, do not ask me again if i am in between the
lines if there are tears there, or that laughter and mockery is hidden
underneath the cover of heavy sheets of sentences
we pretend there is nothing to all these.
when we stop, when that right time comes
it will be dark, and we like children all stop playing and shouting
and running and kidding and calling each other names
when we stop it is always dark. The fear is lost. It is time to go.
Home. Where we are united with our loved ones. Where we begin to
speak the truth about us. Where we sleep. Where all the lights are
turned off.
We give way for the moon to shine above our silent roofs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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Ooddled Up
Total open bootle stroking.
Open toking...
To be broken,
Coping.
And ooddled up.
With the stuff.
Soaking near the ropes to toke.
And poking for some hope,
They cope and smoke...
Feeling dope!
To lube and idolize.
Too pooped to analyze,
The people.
Crunking with a blunt!
To lube and idolize.
Too pooped to analyze,
The people.
And peel we do,
With the tools.
Total open bootle stroking.
Open toking...
To be broken,
Coping.
And ooddled up.
With the stuff.
Crunked with their blunts...
And bumping.
Humping, dump and crumping.
Crunked with their blunts...
And bumping.
Humping, dump and crumping.
Soaking near the ropes to toke.
And poking for some hope,
They cope and smoke...
Feeling dope!
Crunked with their blunts...
And bumping.
Humping, dump and crumping.
Total open bootle stroking.
Open toking...
To be broken,
Coping.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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With A Fixed Commitment
It's hard to keep one's focus,
Kept centered on a map...
When a giving to distractors,
A snack who have a knack...
To,
Munch upon the ears of those,
With noses to impose...
Their way of throwing wrenches,
In the spoke of rolling wheels.
It's hard to keep one's focus,
Kept centered on a map...
When a giving to distractors,
A snack who have a knack...
To,
Dump their lumps on something smooth,
With a negativity they use.
And hoping that their attitudes,
Circumvents since this is meant.
It's hard to keep one's focus,
When...
Distractors dump their moods,
To...
Circumvent since this meant.
And with a fixed commitment.
It's hard to keep one's focus,
Kept centered on a map...
When a giving to distractors,
A snack who have a knack...
To,
Munch upon the ears of those,
With noses to impose...
Their way of throwing wrenches,
In the spoke of rolling wheels.
It's hard to keep one's focus,
When...
Distractors dump their moods,
To...
Circumvent since this meant.
And with a fixed commitment.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!