buhi
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Oct 4, 2017 20:41:35 GMT 7
Post by buhi on Oct 4, 2017 20:41:35 GMT 7
She set off at four this morning with our son. Once before she tried, but time ran out. Set off too late. Today achieved her desire. What? Religion, perhaps? Culture , perhaps? Identity, perhaps. Achieved it.
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smokie36
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Oct 5, 2017 0:54:51 GMT 7
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oldie likes this
Post by smokie36 on Oct 5, 2017 0:54:51 GMT 7
Is this one of your poems or a real life event?
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Deleted
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Oct 5, 2017 7:24:24 GMT 7
oldie likes this
Post by Deleted on Oct 5, 2017 7:24:24 GMT 7
Was she carrying a suitcase when she left?
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siampolee
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Alive alive O
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Oct 5, 2017 7:46:16 GMT 7
Post by siampolee on Oct 5, 2017 7:46:16 GMT 7
Probably a imaginative away day fuelled by high proof fuel
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buhi
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Post by buhi on Oct 5, 2017 12:42:34 GMT 7
Is this one of your poems or a real life event? To say farewell to the late King. Hours of queuing in the rain. I did not go out of respect. It would have been a false gesture, yet strangely long ago i was very much in contact with the late King and he educational programme. Was meant to meet him, but floods blocked the road to Hua Hin. I know he watched my television broadcasts as i was given feed back. Positive and asked to attend a merit making ceremony of teachers of the year. That was televised too.
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smokie36
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Oct 5, 2017 14:03:54 GMT 7
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Post by smokie36 on Oct 5, 2017 14:03:54 GMT 7
Is this one of your poems or a real life event? To say farewell to the late King. Hours of queuing in the rain. I did not go out of respect. It would have been a false gesture, yet strangely long ago i was very much in contact with the late King and he educational programme. Was meant to meet him, but floods blocked the road to Hua Hin. I know he watched my television broadcasts as i was given feed back. Positive and asked to attend a merit making ceremony of teachers of the year. That was televised too. Left field as always buhi....love it.
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rubl
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The wondering type
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Oct 6, 2017 20:52:30 GMT 7
Post by rubl on Oct 6, 2017 20:52:30 GMT 7
I noticed that at the BTS stations they play some clarinet music
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buhi
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Oct 6, 2017 21:19:55 GMT 7
Post by buhi on Oct 6, 2017 21:19:55 GMT 7
I noticed that at the BTS stations they play some clarinet music Indeed, everywhere. I was in Seacon today and all the compositions were from the late King. I happen to like many of them, particularly "Falling Rain". Now as a non Thai it can be difficult to understand the emotions. I do not try. Pointless, as i was not born here , raised here. I do understand why my wife needed to make her pilgrimage. I could of pooh poohed it. But that would have been logic over emotion. Not my way or Buddhist. Many question my Buddhism, but put simply, so do i and that is true Buddhism. No god, no eternity, no certainty. An acceptance of the way it is and not making it worse by thoughtless deeds. Back to William Blake: William Blake, 1757 - 1827 Little fly, Thy summer’s play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me? For I dance And drink and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing. If thought is life And strength and breath, And the want Of thought is death, Then am I A happy fly, If I live, Or if I die.
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bowie
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Oct 6, 2017 21:32:54 GMT 7
Post by bowie on Oct 6, 2017 21:32:54 GMT 7
"Visions Of Johanna"
Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet ? We sit here stranded, though we're all doing our best to deny it And Louise holds a handful of rain, tempting you to defy it Lights flicker from the opposite loft In this room the heat pipes just cough The country music station plays soft But there's nothing really nothing to turn off Just Louise and her lover so entwined And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind.
In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman's bluff with the key chain And the all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the D-train We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight Ask himself if it's him or them that's really insane Louise she's all right she's just near She's delicate and seems like the mirror But she just makes it all too concise and too clear That Johanna's not here The ghost of electricity howls in the bones of her face Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place.
Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously And when bringing her name up He speaks of a farewell kiss to me He's sure got a lotta gall to be so useless and all Muttering small talk at the wall while I'm in the hall Oh, how can I explain ? It's so hard to get on And these visions of Johanna they kept me up past the dawn.
Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues You can tell by the way she smiles See the primitive wallflower frieze When the jelly-faced women all sneeze Hear the one with the mustache say, "Jeeze I can't find my knees." Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel.
The peddler now speaks to the countess who's pretending to care for him Saying, "Name me someone that's not a parasite and I'll go out and say a prayer for him." But like Louise always says "Ya can't look at much, can ya man."
As she, herself prepares for him And Madonna, she still has not showed We see this empty cage now corrode Where her cape of the stage once had flowed The fiddler, he now steps to the road He writes everything's been returned which was owed On the back of the fish truck that loads While my conscience explodes The har<Bunny boiler>s play the skeleton keys and the rain And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain.
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Oct 6, 2017 21:41:54 GMT 7
Post by bunny boiler on Oct 6, 2017 21:41:54 GMT 7
Angie, Angie When will those dark clouds all disappear Angie, Angie Where will it lead us from here With no lovin' in our souls And no money in our coats You can't say we're satisfied Angie, Angie You can't say we never tried Angie, you're beautiful But ain't it time we say goodbye Angie, I still love you Remember all those nights we cried All the dreams were held so close Seemed to all go up in smoke Let me whisper in your ear Angie, Angie Where will it lead us from here Oh, Angie, don't you wish Oh your kisses still taste sweet I hate that sadness in your eyes But Angie Angie Ain't it time we said goodbye
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buhi
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Post by buhi on Oct 6, 2017 21:46:38 GMT 7
Better version. Word perfect. Ignore the other concise version. My error.
"Visions Of Johanna"
Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet ?
We sit here stranded, though we're all doing our best to deny it
And Louise holds a handful of rain, tempting you to defy it
Lights flicker from the opposite loft
In this room the heat pipes just cough
The country music station plays soft
But there's nothing really nothing to turn off
Just Louise and her lover so entwined
And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind.
In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman's bluff with the key chain
And the all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the D-train
We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight
Ask himself if it's him or them that's really insane
Louise she's all right she's just near
She's delicate and seems like the mirror
But she just makes it all too concise and too clear
That Johanna's not here
The ghost of electricity howls in the bones of her face
Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place.
Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously
He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously
And when bringing her name up
He speaks of a farewell kiss to me
He's sure got a lotta gall to be so useless and all
Muttering small talk at the wall while I'm in the hall
Oh, how can I explain ?
It's so hard to get on
And these visions of Johanna they kept me up past the dawn.
Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial
Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
You can tell by the way she smiles
See the primitive wallflower frieze
When the jelly-faced women all sneeze
Hear the one with the mustache say, "Jeeze
I can't find my knees."
Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule
But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel.
The peddler now speaks to the countess who's pretending to care for him
Saying, "Name me someone that's not a parasite and I'll go out and say a prayer for him."
But like Louise always says
"Ya can't look at much, can ya man."
As she, herself prepares for him
And Madonna, she still has not showed
We see this empty cage now corrode
Where her cape of the stage once had flowed
The fiddler, he now steps to the road
He writes everything's been returned which was owed
On the back of the fish truck that loads
While my conscience explodes
The har<Bunny boiler>s play the skeleton keys and the rain
And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain.
And a mouth harp is not a rabbit!
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bowie
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Oct 8, 2017 22:16:09 GMT 7
Post by bowie on Oct 8, 2017 22:16:09 GMT 7
Robert ‘Rabbie’ Burns was so struck by the village’s character that in 1787, while on the pretty bridge over the river, he composed a poem extolling the area’s virtues.
He later wrote the poem in pencil on the chimney breast of the fireplace in what the Kenmore Hotel now calls its Poet’s Bar. It can still be read there today, and here’s part of it:
Th’ outstretching lake, imbosomed ‘mong the hills, The eye with wonder and amazement fills; The Tay meand’ring sweet in infant pride, The palace rising on his verdant side, The lawns wood-fring’d in Nature’s native taste, The hillocks dropt in Nature’s careless haste, The arches striding o’er the new-born stream, The village glittering in the noontide beam
Of hotels and pretension.
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buhi
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Oct 8, 2017 22:47:44 GMT 7
Post by buhi on Oct 8, 2017 22:47:44 GMT 7
Stayed there. Ex father in law's 50 year marriage bash. Booked the whole hotel. Not new to me, such pretension. Kept mum. Read the Burn's poem. Did my thing. Got p**sed. Walked and saw the beauty. Free. The great feast. Well, not a foody. "Any fish and chips?". Just p**sing everyone off. As usual. Baby in our suite. Monitor supposedly on. He was always troublesome. Went to check. Kid crying. No staff had noticed. End of happy hospitality. Saw an osprey early next morning. Still laughing.
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bowie
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Oct 8, 2017 23:09:58 GMT 7
Post by bowie on Oct 8, 2017 23:09:58 GMT 7
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buhi
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Oct 10, 2017 20:12:13 GMT 7
Post by buhi on Oct 10, 2017 20:12:13 GMT 7
Speaking my "truth". Of past, "Don't mess with me,". As a teen, Butch got it. Words. Not fists or chairs. I could of responded; old as i am now. Never. She knew that. So my tune of the day:
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