The Fury of a Patient Man by wurdsalad, literature
Literature
The Fury of a Patient Man
When ink is no longer accessible
and papers are unwritten by hand
Beware the fury
Beware the fury
Of a patient man
When banks no longer produce currency
and trades are made by sand
Beware the fury
Beware the fury
Of a patient man
When children play on shrapnel
in war torn and famined land
Beware the fury
Beware the fury
Of a patient man
If I use the flag
as a rag
to stop the bleeding
of my platoon mate,
would you deem it
disrespectful
or as much respectful
as the flowers set on
his grave fighting
for it?
That Elusive Art-Work-Life Balance by SinistrosePhosphate, journal
That Elusive Art-Work-Life Balance
Art in the Professions
"Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance, order, rhythm and harmony." - Thomas MertonLet me tell you about the story of a kid who liked to draw on the walls...
"Balance is not something you find, it's something you create." - Jana Kingsford, UNJUGGLED: Lessons From a Decade of Blending Business, Babies, Balance and Big Dreams.
When he was five - he was caught drawing doodles on the walls. His parents got mad at him and made him erase everything off with a snub of an eraser. They said nothing good will come out of doodling and he should stop marking up the walls. He should go do something else, anything
Have you ever wondered
just how Giants have their fun?
Do they bathe in the Great Lakes,
or grill their hamburgers on the sun?
Some say they catch helicopters
with enormous butterfly nets,
straddle the tops of speeding planes
and jump on jumbo jets
Use cars as roller skates,
battle ships as bath time toy-as
and monster truck tires
for swings on great Sequoias
How I'd love to meet a giant--
OH LOOKY, WHAT IS THAT?!
COULD IT BE, REALLY BE?!
HOLD ON, WAIT... *SPLAT*
With the trombone sounding muffled
The tuba rather bland
They quickly realized
When they couldn't stand
It's much harder done than said
To be a marching band
In quicksand
We live within the breath, we conquer air,
And never fear the unforgiving earth;
We go and say and do, and always dare.
When passing brazenly the shadow where
A white carnation gilds the suit of death;
We live within the breath, we conquer air.
Now holding life in Time’s firm rocking chair,
We cradle her, for each gold sun’s a birth;
We go and say and do, and always dare.
Though burning tribulations we must bear,
We do not wash our hands like cursed Macbeth;
We live within the breath, we conquer air.
While some may sleep like smooth-faced stone-hearts there,
Beneath the merciless waters, without mirth;
We go and say and do, an
feeling this way again
when i can finally pick up a pen,
and the paper seems to care what i think-
but when it's like this it seems
that my mind is
always out of ink.