Pat Gunn (dachte) wrote,
Pat Gunn


Flowers are only open for so longLoving the wind won't make it last in your armsIt is better to see the summer to it's endThan to enter Gaia's arms before her welcome

You imagine a smile on her face,Lachesis with her spindle greyInstead her eyes are tightly shutLeft hand guiding Cupid's arrows there

Arrow strikes although it's not for youSatyr's dance and flute for someone elseAnd although you watch them go insaneDesired gift of sweet Ambrosia juice

Turned their back, and then did build a worldChildren come and go, gold bronze and earthGrowth and patterns from their split-off crestYou wait in the sky, path overgrown

You have a bride, although she's turned awayOrganic life is what betrays the mostBut without it there is naught but deathChaos wraps itself and goes to sleep

Like a clogged pipe, sometimes an orthoganal nudge can give usnew insight into things. I'm loaning my computer bag to a coworkerfor a conference trip.. I was anticipating it to be a slightinconvenience using a bookbag to stash it, but when I made it home,I found that an O'Reilly tasche I got from one of the conferences isexactly the right size to snugly fit my (large and oddly shaped) laptop,with the power adapter fitting nicely into the front pouch, and thatas it's an over-the-shoulder thing, I can still wear a backpack with it.Having them seperate is actually a good thing -- I no longer need to havethe computer and its adapter compete with all the science journals and otherthings I carry around to fill empty time, and that means I can whip out mycomputer quicker. Also, yesterday I was made an offer for something Ithought I wanted, and found, while considering it, that I don't reallycare about it all that much. I thought, when deciding that it'd be a goodthing, that I was turning over a new leaf, and being more honest with myselfor something.. but no, that's just another thing she was wrongabout. Just another area where I allowed her sickness to project onto me,and didn't question it until too late. When you make your own demons,pretty soon you make your own hell.. Heck, I might give it a shot anyhow --one only lives once, but it's not as important as something else I know I want.

Here's a better link for the Jackson grumbling I did in my lastentry, talking more about where he is(n't) and the frustration of thepolice who are aiming to get him.

Back to work..

Tags: poetry

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