Gestalt Prayer

Fritz Perls

I do my thing and you do your thing
I am not in this world to
live up to your expectations,
and you are not in this world to
live up to mine.
You are you
and I am I
and if by chance we find each other,
it's beautiful.

Stolen off Facebook

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"nobody but you"
Charles Bukowski

nobody can save you but
yourself.
you will be put again and again
into nearly impossible
situations.
they will attempt again and again
through subterfuge, guise and
force
to make you submit, quit and/or die quietly
inside.

nobody can save you but
yourself
and it will be easy enough to fail
so very easily
but don't, don't, don't.
just watch them.
listen to them.
do you want to be like that?
a faceless, mindless, heartless
being?
do you want to experience
death before death?

nobody can save you but
yourself
and you're worth saving.
it's a war not easily won
but if anything is worth winning then
this is it.

think about it.
think about saving your self.

"Slowly"
Donna Masini

I watched a snake once, swallow a rabbit.
Fourth grade, the reptile zoo
the rabbit stiff, nose in, bits of litter stuck to its fur,

its head clenched in the wide
jaws of the snake, the snake
sucking it down its long throat.

All throat that snake—I couldn't tell
where the throat ended, the body
began. I remember the glass

case, the way that snake
took its time (all the girls, groaning, shrieking
but weren’t we amazed, fascinated,

saying we couldn’t look, but looking, weren’t we
held there, weren’t we
imagining—what were we imaging?)

Mrs. Paterson urged us to move on girls,
but we couldn’t move. It was like
watching a fern unfurl, a minute

hand move across a clock. I didn’t know why
that snake didn’t choke, the rabbit never
moved, how the jaws kept opening

wider, sucking it down, just so
I am taking this in, slowly,
taking it into my body:

this grief. How slow
the body is to realize.
You are never coming back

After The War lyrics

After the guns are silent
And after my wounds have healed
And after all these crosses
Have been planted in all these fields
And after that long boat ride
All the way across the sea
And after this train carries me
Chorus:
I will love you after the war
Love you for always and forever more
I will love you after the war
For always forever and more
After my boots dry
and my tobacco's all but gone
And after these postcards I been carrying
under my arm
And after I remember
all the words I couldn't say
And after this long night fades away
And after this blackbird
lifts up from off my chest
And after my soul takes its rest
My love, forgive me
I never planned to die
and love, put two pennies on my eyes

"What I Did"
Jim Daniels

What are you going to do
when your girlfriend's pregnant
neither of you have health
insurance or a decent job
and you've both been taking enough
drugs to kill a horse
or two?

What are you going to do
when she calls up from Wisconsin
three states away to tell you
she's pregnant, that she slipped
away the night before

she's telling you
and she's crying and she's telling you
she's going to the clinic
in the morning?

You know.
You know what you're going to do.
You're going to drive
your Plymouth Satellite all night
your head jangling
like the coins you use to call her
from rest stops to make sure
she'll wait
wait til you get there

drive all night to her sister's
in Madison and sit with her in the morning
wringing your hands and going over it
all again, slowly, and again

and you can't let yourself
think for more than a second
of the actual child
you might have together,
what you imagined while driving
when the cold air and darkness
when the lack of a radio
made all things possible

you kiss her and hold her
and wipe her nose
and wipe your nose
and you try to ignore
and not feel embarrassed by
the presence of her sister
silently circling the house.

What do you do? You drive her down
in the painful sun, the forced
squint, you pull out the wrinkled
wad of bills you conned
from friends half-gone in the bar,
you lick your fingers,
you count out your half.

I love this lmao

"the suicide kid"
Charles Bukowski

I went to the worst of bars
hoping to get
killed.
but all I could do was to
get drunk
again.
worse, the bar patrons even
ended up
liking me.
there I was trying to get
pushed over the dark
edge
and I ended up with
free drinks
while somewhere else
some poor
son-of-a-bitch was in a hospital
bed,
tubes sticking out all over
him
as he fought like hell
to live.
nobody would help me
die as
the drinks kept
coming,
as the next day
waited for me
with its steel clamps,
its stinking
anonymity,
its incogitant
attitude.
death doesn't always
come running
when you call
it,
not even if you
call it
from a shining
castle
or from an ocean liner
or from the best bar
on earth (or the
worst).
such impertinence
only makes the gods
hesitate and
delay.
ask me: I'm
72.



(I wonder if he's Ukrainian?)

This was on Oprah today, it's about a baby with trisomy 18. SO SAD.

Failing and Falling
Jack Gilbert

Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
It’s the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake, that everybody
said it would never work. That she was
old enough to know better. But anything
worth doing is worth doing badly.
Like being there by that summer ocean
on the other side of the island while
love was fading out of her, the stars
burning so extravagantly those nights that
anyone could tell you they would never last.
Every morning she was asleep in my bed
like a visitation, the gentleness in her
like antelope standing in the dawn mist.
Each afternoon I watched her coming back
through the hot stony field after swimming,
the sea light behind her and the huge sky
on the other side of that. Listened to her
while we ate lunch. How can they say
the marriage failed? Like the people who
came back from Provence (when it was Provence)
and said it was pretty but the food was greasy.
I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell,
but just coming to the end of his triumph.

Here's pics of our Jersey calf. Our cow calved yesterday, and she didn't try to kick when we milked her, like she usually does.



( More piccies )

She's a Jersey/Charolais cross. He's had a few roan calves this year. I love roans. She has Jersey coloring, it's kind of hard to see in the picure.

you are khaki #F0E68C

Your dominant hues are red and green, so you're definately not afraid to get in and stir things up. You have no time for most people's concerns, you'd rather analyze with your head than be held back by some random "gut feeling". Your saturation level is lower than average - You don't stress out over things and don't understand people who do. Finishing projects may sometimes be a challenge, but you schedule time as you see fit and the important things all happen in the end, even if not everyone sees your grand master plan. Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

I go with my gut feeling though. My subconscious mind is awesome and brilliant. Way smarter than me.

“curiosity”
Virginia Tamez

I sometimes wonder
if instinct kicked in
if your feet kicked,
or if you just hung there
and didn't fight it
(because you'd wanted it
for so long)

I sometimes wonder
if your neck broke
or if you suffocated
if you saw spots
or if your eyes were shut
what image played in
your mind those last few
moments
(and how many moments
did it take?)

I sometimes wonder
were you crying
and what were you thinking
(if you were thinking at all)
if you took your glasses off
if you were wearing green
how much air was between
your feet and the ground

if you hoped that someone
would save you in time
what kind of rope you used
if it burned your skin
and would it be so
fucking unreasonable
to burn every rope I find

I sometimes wonder
what I was dreaming about
why I wasn't with you
and if you were mad at me
and if you hate me
and if this will always hurt
so numbingly much.

This and the last one from exceptindreams