A word to burglars: Don't break into a building full of police officers undergoing training.
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The Ocean is large and I'm still finding my way (even though I don't know where I'm going)
Move over TS Eliot
Down on your hands and knees
Underneath the poplar trees
Down in the sticks and stones
Looking for store bought bones
Baby I'm the rising sun
Clutching at your holstered gun
Baby I'm a shooting star
I'm looking wherever you are
Looking through a telescope
Maybe there's a sign of hope
Leaving everything behind
Discovering your store bought mind
Sending everything to the sea
Wishing you were here by me
Shifting through the mountain of bricks
Searching for a store bought fix
You can't buy what you can't find what you can't buy
What you find what you can't buy what you can't
What you can't buy what you can't find what you can't
You can't buy what you can't find what you can't buy
What you find what you can't buy what you can't
What you can't buy what you can't find what you can't
What you can't buy what you can't find what you can't
Blog Archive
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2007
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September
(39)
- Another reason for the low number of posts...
- This and that
- Projection is how fortune telling and poetry work...
- Caught in the whitewash
- Crime doesn't pay
- We are here to help each other
- Everything is beautiful
- Ode to a boy (he's so sweet!)
- The entrepreneurial spirit
- So many boots, not enough feet...
- Behavioral research
- I think I'm in love with Cary Tennis (sorry, husba...
- I hope this lasts...
- A little space of their own finally!
- More arts and crafts
- On a lighter note (whew, you're saying!)
- Remembering to ride the wave, or size really does ...
- What Australians keep in their pockets and more
- My little Martha Stewarts
- Mute
- Manolo says, do not be the Shannon Doherty
- Poem of the day
- Figleaves update
- Pop culture intrusion...
- Sigh...
- They're taking over...
- Aruba, Bahamas, come on pretty Mama...
- First day of school
- Latest knitting project
- Morning thoughts
- I must have boots with flames!
- Those older, innocent times
- Cabo
- Maybe I really am crazy
- My figleaves addiction
- Who knew household appliances could be so much fun?
- Why do I love Prufrock so?
- Quote of the day
- My life as a cog
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September
(39)
About Me
I grow old...I grow old...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers and walk along the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
TS Eliot
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers and walk along the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
TS Eliot
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