IGNORE (it)
There's a troublesome cry in the dead of night
Yet, helplessly, I wait despite it all - despite it all.
In my dreams I hear the awful sound,
But other noises help to drown it out so I can sleep.
To think that I could not wake up at all
To ever see what isn't in my way.
Ignorance is ludicrous, yet wonderful;
'Cause I don't have to know.
(I don't want to know.)
The other day I saw a girl with a cardboard sign beside the road:
"Anything helps"
Do I look or do I turn away?
Do I hand her change and wish her on her way?
What do I say?
I don't want to know what's going on outside my comfort zone.
Oh no, don't tell me, 'cause I don't want to feel that I should help
Someone but myself.
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A paperless journey
Cacoethes Scribendi
"the insatiable urge to write"
About Me
- Kimber London
- I aspire to engage in the eternal process of the written word and by so doing join in the ranks of those who wrote before me.
CACOETHES SCRIBENDI
If all the trees in all the woods were men;
And each and every blade of grass a pen;
If every leaf on every shrub and tree
Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea
Were changed to ink, and all earth's living tribes
Had nothing else to do but act as scribes,
And for ten thousand ages, day and night,
The human race should write, and write, and write,
Till all the pens and paper were used up,
And the huge inkstand was an empty cup,
Still would the scribblers clustered round its brink
Call for more pens, more paper, and more ink.
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES
And each and every blade of grass a pen;
If every leaf on every shrub and tree
Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea
Were changed to ink, and all earth's living tribes
Had nothing else to do but act as scribes,
And for ten thousand ages, day and night,
The human race should write, and write, and write,
Till all the pens and paper were used up,
And the huge inkstand was an empty cup,
Still would the scribblers clustered round its brink
Call for more pens, more paper, and more ink.
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES
I have a friend who hears awful sounds...voices. Not just troublesome crys in the dead of night either, during the day, too. An honest question he asks, "Will their be voices in heaven?"
ReplyDeleteI reply, "Oh yes my friend, there will be Voices"