it is not an attack. Your actions are
reactions, based on history. Without
said history, this situation would not
be, therefore your actions are conditional.
Unfortunately, this power -microscopic in scale- feeds me,
nourishing more base aspects of my psyche.
Being "clever", yet I still reconcile my on-
going waste. Yes I can see it as such
now, my own potential, wasted, squandered
on the most petty things, daily.
And yet, I know I hate material waste.
Was this a God given poetry.
Sunday 18 January 2015
Tuesday 24 April 2012
Knoweth not the hour.
The reason, the reason for my obesity is Jesus. It’s very simple. My parents were good, God fearing christians, and as such, at every dinner time, without fail, an extra seat would be layed at the table. “We knoweth not the hour that he may come, but we shall always endeavour to be prepared.”
The preparation went beyond just the extra plate, but that enough food should be cooked, that any additional unexpected guest would be able to have a full dinner.
And so we would always dine with that excess of dinner on the table, yet it would not stay there indefinitely. My father made the declaration, “Thirty minutes, not a minute more. Any guest later than that, whether or not they be the Messiah, should know that half an hour late for dinner is too late.”
And so the food would sit there. And then thirty minutes passed. I used to time it. I was the time keeper at dinner time. So finally the long hand would move through the hundred-and-eightieth degree. And it was open season on the food on the table. Only I had no peers. My parents in some ways took some pride in me eating the food on the table, that the good, their charity, was somehow being redirected, channelled toward me. I was the host for their piety.
As you could imagine, regardless of a normal breakfast and lunch, two dinners every day took their toll on me. But as I said at the start, Jesus, he could’ve stopped it at any time. All he needed to do was make it to our dinner table in time.
The preparation went beyond just the extra plate, but that enough food should be cooked, that any additional unexpected guest would be able to have a full dinner.
And so we would always dine with that excess of dinner on the table, yet it would not stay there indefinitely. My father made the declaration, “Thirty minutes, not a minute more. Any guest later than that, whether or not they be the Messiah, should know that half an hour late for dinner is too late.”
And so the food would sit there. And then thirty minutes passed. I used to time it. I was the time keeper at dinner time. So finally the long hand would move through the hundred-and-eightieth degree. And it was open season on the food on the table. Only I had no peers. My parents in some ways took some pride in me eating the food on the table, that the good, their charity, was somehow being redirected, channelled toward me. I was the host for their piety.
As you could imagine, regardless of a normal breakfast and lunch, two dinners every day took their toll on me. But as I said at the start, Jesus, he could’ve stopped it at any time. All he needed to do was make it to our dinner table in time.
Tuesday 27 March 2012
An Excerpt
letting go, enjoying life, world views.
X
Ignorance is bliss.
?
But it's their ignorance, their indifference, that is preventing a true bliss,
truer bliss, a better world than what we have now.
X
From another point of view, you want them to know, so they can't enjoy themselves anymore.
?
A problem shared is a problem halved.
X
Sounds more like you just want to share the pain.
X
Ignorance is bliss.
?
But it's their ignorance, their indifference, that is preventing a true bliss,
truer bliss, a better world than what we have now.
X
From another point of view, you want them to know, so they can't enjoy themselves anymore.
?
A problem shared is a problem halved.
X
Sounds more like you just want to share the pain.
Friday 29 April 2011
A tourist In My own country
I was definitely creeped out by a coincidence of words in a time that were impossible to be known.
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