The Cruelty Of Peace

FinsburyParkCarrots
FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
edited January 2007 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
The more bereavement and loss you suffer, it's in those rare moments when you manage to return to yourself, such as in the first waking sense of day before your heart's remembrance of all griefs gone before, that you feel, in your life, the most quiet, indomitable calm.
Post edited by Unknown User on
«1

Comments

  • Jamal
    Jamal Posts: 2,115
    wow
    this is rather deep & heavy

    *re-reads*

    did you come up with this yourself?

    bravo man, bravo
    Surf little waves big... Charge big waves hard

    - Antwerp '06, Nijmegen '07, Werchter '07
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    Jamal wrote:
    wow
    this is rather deep & heavy

    *re-reads*

    did you come up with this yourself?

    bravo man, bravo

    Of course I did. I'm sparing with my little gems. They shine brighter, that way.
  • Jamal
    Jamal Posts: 2,115
    Of course I did. I'm sparing with my little gems. They shine brighter, that way.
    that they certainly do :D
    Surf little waves big... Charge big waves hard

    - Antwerp '06, Nijmegen '07, Werchter '07
  • Buru
    Buru Posts: 8,473
    that's beautiful finsy
    y la banda de Guille... cuando toca?
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    It all just fucking sucks. One of my sisters has a nineteen year old ovarian cyst, and other lumps that have twisted her bowel. Non-one can operate on her until her infections go, and while in hospital, she picked up another bug. So, the hospital is saying, we might have to send her home until she's cool, so we can use her bed for someone else.

    That's the National Health Service of Great Britain for you, in the year of 2007.
  • justam
    justam Posts: 21,415
    It all just fucking sucks. One of my sisters has a nineteen year old ovarian cyst, and other lumps that have twisted her bowel. Non-one can operate on her until her infections go, and while in hospital, she picked up another bug. So, the hospital is saying, we might have to send her home until she's cool, so we can use her bed for someone else.

    That's the National Health Service of Great Britain for you, in the year of 2007.

    :( :(

    Sorry to hear this.
    &&&&&&&&&&&&&&
  • So sorry to hear your sister is suffering. Sending love to you and your family.

    "May the longtime sun shine upon you and all love surround you. May the Divine light within guide you way on"
    "If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to eachother." Mother Theresa
  • reeferchief
    reeferchief Posts: 3,569
    Beautiful Fins, and my best wishes for you're sister hope everything turns out ok.
    Can not be arsed with life no more.
  • catefrances
    catefrances Posts: 29,003
    The more bereavement and loss you suffer, it's in those rare moments when you manage to return to yourself, such as in the first waking sense of day before your heart's remembrance of all griefs gone before, that you feel, in your life, the most quiet, indomitable calm.

    my nanna just died(she was almost 94) and though my reaction(or lack there of) somewhat perplexes me, i do feel a calmness. i think it's in knowing that my life will also end one day. and that is a day i hold no grudge against. though i'm not exactly holding my arms wide beckoning it closer either.
    hear my name
    take a good look
    this could be the day
    hold my hand
    lie beside me
    i just need to say
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    You know, she's at my folks' house and driving them bloody crackers, talking all the time from the couch. That woman has more life in her, half-dead, than the rest of us, put together. I'm half tempted to ask a doctor to go around there, and stitch her mouth up, until she goes back for the operation. ;)
  • quiet, indomitable calm...

    that's it. and, it's delicious.

    nice piece, finsbury!
  • Jamal
    Jamal Posts: 2,115
    You know, she's at my folks' house and driving them bloody crackers, talking all the time from the couch. That woman has more life in her, half-dead, than the rest of us, put together. I'm half tempted to ask a doctor to go around there, and stitch her mouth up, until she goes back for the operation. ;)
    that's not so nice :s

    just stick her in an old folk's home, ... they love to talk anyways :D

    But anyways, is there still a chance of her getting better soon?
    Surf little waves big... Charge big waves hard

    - Antwerp '06, Nijmegen '07, Werchter '07
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    Dunno. She has to take 35 tablets a day. We'll see.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    The piece wasn't about her, though. Sorry for colouring interpretations. I was just venting. ;)
  • catefrances
    catefrances Posts: 29,003
    venting is good.
    the negative balances the positive and makes us whole. :)
    hear my name
    take a good look
    this could be the day
    hold my hand
    lie beside me
    i just need to say
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    venting is good.
    the negative balances the positive and makes us whole. :)

    Yeah, but my negative causes fucking meltdown.
  • catefrances
    catefrances Posts: 29,003
    Yeah, but my negative causes fucking meltdown.

    i could probably think of a trite aphorism, but i won't. i like my 'negative' side.
    hear my name
    take a good look
    this could be the day
    hold my hand
    lie beside me
    i just need to say
  • Jamal
    Jamal Posts: 2,115
    i could probably think of a trite aphorism, but i won't. i like my 'negative' side.
    We all do
    Don't ever change :D:p
    Surf little waves big... Charge big waves hard

    - Antwerp '06, Nijmegen '07, Werchter '07
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    Let your froth corrupted lungs cry out
    rattlings of a cliched death, then rise up
    like Eva Braun in paraffin, without
    a fascist daddy lover boy to cup
    you in the flames of eagle-circled bone embracings.
    My half-Jew eyes, crow-eaten, know the tracings
    of your lipgloss bunker mouthy pouts
    and Axis fantasies of classic doom.
    Wagnerian, drenched in the splashing gouts
    of bluey blood, so masterful. This room,
    this skull, this temple of my memory
    is rooted like the long forgotten tree
    near ashen pond flush, where my family
    was drowned to make your deathly fantasy.