George

“A poem to Raymond, whom everybody loves, originally composed on a waterproof smartphone in a sea of love, which was hidden under the pile of garbage that my bum-pals that have no pen names, or pen-pals, or names, for that matter, brought to me as an offering on the 1st of April 1877, exactly 111 years and 7 months before I was brought forth to this world, because some anonymous prophet told them this would bring luck, joy, happiness, food, and, of course – shelter from evil (he was lying):

If it's fantasy you seek,
to E. Feist then, you must speak.
All he writes is all there is,
for his words, they move the seas.
.
I would write, but I know naught.
In my heart there is a draught.
Hidden desert - golden sands.
Few my love can ever stand.

And so far I've talked to many,
a reply - will there be any?
I know - not, yet I know naught,
all to question, I was taught...

So I learn, I borrow wisdom,
from the great, the ones with vision.
They can teach, the few that grasp,
concepts from a long forgotten past.”
― Will Advise, Nothing is here...

“Sometimes we must try to view the actions of those around us with forgiveness. We must realize that they are going on the only road they can see. Sometimes we cannot raise our chins and see eye to eye, so we must bow our heads and have faith in one another.”
― Lisa Wingate

“Father is Everyone's First Preceptor.
Happy Father's Day!”
― Mohith Agadi

“My kids are starting to notice I'm a little different from the other dads. "Why don't you have a straight job like everyone else?" they asked me the other day.

I told them this story:
In the forest, there was a crooked tree and a straight tree. Every day, the straight tree would say to the crooked tree, "Look at me...I'm tall, and I'm straight, and I'm handsome. Look at you...you're all crooked and bent over. No one wants to look at you." And they grew up in that forest together. And then one day the loggers came, and they saw the crooked tree and the straight tree, and they said, "Just cut the straight trees and leave the rest." So the loggers turned all the straight trees into lumber and toothpicks and paper. And the crooked tree is still there, growing stronger and stranger every day.”
― Tom Waits