The rain beats down on the rusty tin roof torrential pellets pinging then running in floods down to the ground, forming pools of dark shadows soaking up the light of your world, the evidence of the dark sky’s love - In this quiet moment the feelings wash away and here; the physical resides over the emotional, this wetness hits my skin and I discover a link between my soul and my body, captured in a rain drop.
An elderly man in West Virginia had owned a farm for several years, that had a large pond in the back. It was properly shaped for swimming, so he fixed it up rather nicely with picnic tables, horseshoe pits, and surrounded it with apple trees and peach trees.
One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the pond since he hadn’t been there for a while, and look things over. On his way out of the house, he grabbed a five-gallon bucket to pick some fruit while he was there.
As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee. When he was close enough, he saw that it was a group of lovely young women skinny-dipping in his pond.
After he made the women aware of his presence, they all shrieked and swam to the deep end. One of the women shouted to him, “We’re not coming out until you leave!”
The old man frowned, “I didn’t come down here to watch you ladies swim naked, nor to oggle at you as you get out of the pond naked,” Holding the bucket up he said, “I’m here to feed the alligator.”
make your apologies truthful and tell me what karma taught you illustrate the depths of the pit in your stomach when you realized you threw us away color in the red on your cheeks the sweat on your face and the tears in your eyes from trying to turn back time to take it all back next reenact your stammered breath once you grasped that you couldn’t then make your apologies useful and write them on toilet paper
Like iron claws in the heart, acid in the mind, white fire in the soul.
I was on a plane once and there was some dude and his girlfriend talking about his diet and some other dude pretending pretty hard to be interested.
“Yeah- I pretty much go on nothing but fruits and vegetables.” and I’m like- that’s cool. But then he added- “it’s pretty intense.”
I almost flipped the fuck out- come on man, I mean- I can tell by your Jesus sandals and the beads in your girlfriend’s hair that you’re fucking hippies, but if living off bananas and broccoli is intensity, what’s the word for climbing Everest or getting in a car chase?
And the thing is- I know the answer; he would say “epic.”
And them I’d punch him right on his hippie fucking face.