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Odes for this life

Odes for this life. Thursday, November 25, 2010. Throwing and being thrown. To my martial arts teacher. You never loved me back. At least, not the way I loved you. You were in control of it; I was not. But, I have no regrets. None! The first time I fell in love with you. It was February or March. We were training as usual. You were laughing, happy. That was several years ago. I have watched your hair turning grey. I watch your smiles change. I have aged too. I don’t seek your attention anymore. It must h...

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Odes for this life | odes4thislife.blogspot.com Reviews
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Odes for this life. Thursday, November 25, 2010. Throwing and being thrown. To my martial arts teacher. You never loved me back. At least, not the way I loved you. You were in control of it; I was not. But, I have no regrets. None! The first time I fell in love with you. It was February or March. We were training as usual. You were laughing, happy. That was several years ago. I have watched your hair turning grey. I watch your smiles change. I have aged too. I don’t seek your attention anymore. It must h...
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1 as you age
2 of balance
3 and minds for
4 you showed me
5 bodies minds
6 0 comments
7 to protect myself
8 my coal darkness shattering
9 into darkness
10 like daytime fire flies
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as you age,of balance,and minds for,you showed me,bodies minds,0 comments,to protect myself,my coal darkness shattering,into darkness,like daytime fire flies,three poems,cleanliness,scrub,with paper,polish the glass,passion,unlocks itself,in my teamug
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Odes for this life | odes4thislife.blogspot.com Reviews

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Odes for this life. Thursday, November 25, 2010. Throwing and being thrown. To my martial arts teacher. You never loved me back. At least, not the way I loved you. You were in control of it; I was not. But, I have no regrets. None! The first time I fell in love with you. It was February or March. We were training as usual. You were laughing, happy. That was several years ago. I have watched your hair turning grey. I watch your smiles change. I have aged too. I don’t seek your attention anymore. It must h...

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Odes for this life: October 2006

http://www.odes4thislife.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_archive.html

Odes for this life. Wednesday, October 18, 2006. Ode to my sweet Belgian Boy. Ode to my sweet Belgian boy. I was sittin out there in the shadows, baby. Jus' waitin for night to come. Sittin there in the shadows baby. Wishin for day to be done. But that sweet Belgian boy, yeah. He showed me how to have some fun. He saw me sit there with my burdens, baby. Saw my whole soul black and blue. Yeah he saw me sittin neath my burdens, baby. I think he knew just what to do. An' I told him true then:. An Ode to MRI.

2

Odes for this life: August 2007

http://www.odes4thislife.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html

Odes for this life. Tuesday, August 14, 2007. I would like to wipe myself clean,. Like the way one cleans the screen. Of a mobile phone. Until the greasy fingerprints. I would like to unwind in your wet heat. The way this dry leaf. I would like to be Big Brother. And have a panoramic view. Of your movements in your bed. There are great distances of silence, inside. I would like to float along them, and come back to this body. Only to sing myself sadnesses. All in hollow vowels. Oh, Aah, Aaw.

3

Odes for this life: Radioactive Girl is surprised by love

http://www.odes4thislife.blogspot.com/2007/09/radioactive-girl-falls-is-surprised-by.html

Odes for this life. Monday, September 03, 2007. Radioactive Girl is surprised by love. Radioactive Girl is surprised by love. What must you have thought? When I closed my eyes, it was. It must have been the impact of you. For my heart suddenly reached critical mass. And I felt like I was going go nuclear, immediately. The blooming burst of it, the ravaged atoms going haywire,. Leaving radioactive waste all over your bed. Repercussions lasting for ages. Timid skulk out in the morning. Did you even notice?

4

Odes for this life: November 2010

http://www.odes4thislife.blogspot.com/2010_11_01_archive.html

Odes for this life. Thursday, November 25, 2010. Throwing and being thrown. You never loved me back. At least, not the way I loved you. You were in control of it. I was not. I learned to love the teaching. As much as you. More. I almost learned to not mind. That I don’t know you, can’t know you. But I have almost known you. When I throw you, when you throw me, there is a moment. Of complete focus, of harmony. You taught me that. It is an amazing feeling - One we train our human bodies. What fish are you?

5

Odes for this life: Your skin isn't smooth

http://www.odes4thislife.blogspot.com/2006/12/your-skin-isnt-smooth.html

Odes for this life. Saturday, December 30, 2006. Your skin isn't smooth. Your skin isn’t smooth. It’s white sky and peppered birds. The trees in it hung with black gloves and red talismans,. Your carried luck, your sharper guide. We are not lovers. But you have drawn on my face with your fingers these past mornings, so. I try to press yours with my darker autumn colours:. I am not your paperpaste wings, and you are not my sparrowhawk. Seated next to me. You say (you look down) you might fly, and I,.

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Grist to the Mill: May 2004

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Grist to the Mill. 13 May, 2004. Like the old jazz standard, I find myself 'in a sentimental mood'. In a mood such as this, it's random acts of kindness that break your heart - more so than cruelty or spitefulness. Here's an anecdote that evoked feelings of full-on pathos for the other woman involved: my mum was walking me in my pram along a canal bank, near the tannery that was quite close to our street in northern England. Is it hanging down? I haven't got time to go back and tack it up! The tremendous...

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Grist to the Mill: August 2004

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Grist to the Mill. 25 August, 2004. A pointless post because I don't feel like writing anything else. Late August not mid June. Bucket and spade not 'sand sculptures'. Valiant effort not not running for buses. Geoffrey Boycott not Ian Botham. Brown sauce not ketchup. Old Labour not New Labour. Tony Benn not Tony Blair. Breakfast radio not breakfast TV. John Coltrane not Miles Davis. Dressing down not dressing up. Leonard Rossiter not Ricky Gervais. Forward thinking not 'getting where I am today'. We are ...

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Grist to the Mill: September 2004

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Grist to the Mill. 28 September, 2004. Following on from the Narcisstic Personality post, the "flatmate" and I sat last night perusing similar websites on the Internet, laughingly deciding which personality disorder we each had. Which reminded me of the following. Taken from. Three Men in a Boat. Which I couldn't get along with on the grounds that it was waaay too twee and silly) you have to admit that the opening pages are kind of funny:. Why this invidious reservation? I had walked into that reading-ro...

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Grist to the Mill: June 2004

http://fragmentsoffear.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html

Grist to the Mill. 30 June, 2004. A blind woman spoke on a radio programme this afternoon. The programme (unlike the woman's point that caught my attention) was concerned with making preparations for death. But it wasn't a morbid programme. The woman's voice was full of pleasure when she said, "I don't dream often, but when I do I can see what I'm looking at. It's lovely! Supermarkets are probably more sanitised than the average hospital, and food is supposed to taste. Posted by plymouth rock at 10:44 pm.

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Grist to the Mill: April 2004

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Grist to the Mill. 29 April, 2004. John Fante is one of the great unheralded voices in American fiction" (The Face). Too true, so I'll do a bit of heralding here. I read the "Bandini" books (. Wait Until Spring, Bandini. The Road to Los Angeles. 1933 Was a Bad Year. I've just finished it) is his most. Story Here's a passage about the uselessness of prayer (Catholicism is another strong theme):. Don't', I said, squirming away. Wear the stocking. And keep praying.'. Try her for a month. If she can make...

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Grist to the Mill: March 2004

http://fragmentsoffear.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html

Grist to the Mill. 29 March, 2004. SEX ON THE BRAIN. There's a statistic informing us that men think about sex every few minutes during their waking hours. Honestly, I. Think about sex every few minutes (or even every few hours), but when I happened upon the following scene, 'impure thoughts' sprang to mind. I was in a coffee shop and. Or is it just me? Posted by plymouth rock at 11:52 pm. 27 March, 2004. Over the multi-storey car park, while camera crews and journalists from local and national newsrooms...

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Grist to the Mill: November 2004

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Grist to the Mill. 02 November, 2004. Election day in the US today, but, to be truthful, I'm far more interested in the following:. Could the good-man and the good-wife deny to the spirits of their dead the welcome which they gave to the herds? Posted by plymouth rock at 7:35 pm. Stuff that crosses my mind. View my complete profile.

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Grist to the Mill: December 2004

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Grist to the Mill. 21 December, 2004. Walks into his doctor's surgery and says "Doctor, doctor, I've got a cricket ball stuck up my arse". The doctor says, "Howzat? Posted by plymouth rock at 3:26 pm. 19 December, 2004. Says the Economist, "The British are no longer prudish about sex, but we still hate a queue jumper", which seems to capture the matter quite succinctly. Did their principles and convictions desert them over coffee? Posted by plymouth rock at 1:20 pm. Posted by plymouth rock at 11:50 am.

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Grist to the Mill: July 2004

http://fragmentsoffear.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html

Grist to the Mill. 28 July, 2004. Wilson revisited the Smile theme and some of the album's significant stylistic devices on "Rio Grande", the closing 8-minute piece from his 1988 solo debut. Track listing (based on a handwritten note that Wilson gave to Capitol Records in 1967). Do You Like Worms. I'm In Great Shape. Child Is Father Of The Man. The Old Master Painter. Other tracks and fragments from the sessions include. Posted by plymouth rock at 2:27 pm. I can't wait for SMiLE to come out! 25 July, 2004.

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Odes for this life

Odes for this life. Thursday, November 25, 2010. Throwing and being thrown. To my martial arts teacher. You never loved me back. At least, not the way I loved you. You were in control of it; I was not. But, I have no regrets. None! The first time I fell in love with you. It was February or March. We were training as usual. You were laughing, happy. That was several years ago. I have watched your hair turning grey. I watch your smiles change. I have aged too. I don’t seek your attention anymore. It must h...

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