JD.com Averts a Crisis as Billionaire CEO Cleared in Rape Probe https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2018-12-23/jd-com-averts-a-crisis-as-billionaire-ceo-cleared-in-rape-probe
“THE REAL SANTA’S FACE IS KIND OF INTERESTING TO LOOK AT ACTUALLY; THAT’S WHY HE WEARS THAT BIG HAT AND A LOT OF WHISKERS! a poem a.k.a.: “The Best Kept Secret At The North Pole (And Some Of You Might Just Hear It HERE First!” Sunday, December 23, 2018 ~ 2200 hours in the series: “The Lost Love Letters Of Santa To His Wife!” [kinda]
Mrs. Claus married Santa, without checking-on-his-(REAL)-FACE!
She “jumped right in,” married-and moved-in-to His Place!
And she figured-it’d-work – ’cause he-made-her-laugh – and-brought-(her) meals-in-bed;
Well, sometimes, you-better-peel-off-the-outer-layer – &-check-to-see-the-real-head!
SO (I’m-tellin’-ya!) You better beware! of the one who makes you laugh!
For that’s the one – who-can-(also)-make-you-cry – Laughin’-cuts-the-time-in-half!!
‘Cause – IF – Mr. or Mrs. “Right!” is there,
They got your emotions – in a-sort-of-a-snare!?
AND YOU BETTER H O P E – THAT THEY WON’T BE TOO MEAN,
YET! a-heart-“on-the-sleeve” can-be really keen,
IF – you’ve TRULY got the lover – who really, really cares,
About-your-precious-feelings – and-protects-The-Heart-from-tears –
It’s-always-up-to-you, my Honey – You can-CHOOSE to take the chance,
Or stay locked-up – in-your-room – in-your “Down-a-Under” Pants!
But* [for all you big boys out there!]
You don’t need to be a Superman, like ME*** – or – Mr.-Deadpool,
‘Cause the right girl will make you – SUPER – and-COOL!
And, my dear, dear Gladys – after a brief adjustment time,
(And-a-whole-lotta-alcohol) I think you’ll “get” this rhyme,
And you’ll admit – although it may-take – some time-a-getting used-to,
My face will be just fine-for-application – of your-purrecious-woo-hoo! 🙂 – Woo! Hoo!
* – credit given to the motion picture “Deadpool,” for some very memorable quotes!**
** – such as: “After a brief adjustment period – and a bunch of alcohol – It’s a face – . . . . . . . . – I’d be happy – – – to sit on!”
*** – i.e., Santa, of course!
Beauty catches the attention
But the character catches the heart
The sign of a beautiful person
Is that they always
See the beauty in others
A beautiful thing is never perfect
You don’t have to be beautiful
The difference between a weed and a flower
Weeds are the Jugement
Did you know that?
My story when I was a small 11-year-old girl
A raging Tomboy at that
My idol mate (teenager), second best footballer ( I of course was the best) 😁
Well Girls started to hang out at the grounds fawning all over him ( Pretty girls, in short knickers)
Oh my, I was so miffed 😔
This day we were riding our bikes home from school and I asked did he think I was pretty like them, hanging out chasing my best mate.
Next, he stopped and yelled out at this little hanger on, “Me” ( I could kick, I could run faster than him)
My Mate grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me down on the gutter, skin off my shins
Normally I would belt those boys until they ran away
With my head in my hands from shock I sat there dazed.
This is the first day of growing up!
” You are beautiful inside and out” said he
As I looked up to the sky flashing those blue eyes, nothing like that had ever I heard come from any mouth🙈
We sat in the gutter of a dirt road trying to scratch our heads, what did that sentence mean 🙊
Eternity passed and we saw my Mum looking for me ( we scattered different ways)
Later locked in my room, out came the HD pencils ( thought I was a Famous Author) looked at that phrase over and over.
Didn’t make any sense😞
You remember when you worship someone in your young life you either are wounded or deliriously happy with what they said.😟
It was to be another year and we never talked about the day again
He was a famous footballer, 7 years older than me when we meet again
The eighteen-year-old girl was nearly grown up
He said take me for a ride in your car
So impressive riding round town with my mate again, on two wheels of course🙃
Gone again he reached over and grabbed the keys off me
Here we go again, oh no🙊
He was my Hero
I ended up in the middle of the road having a colossal hissy fit
And left the car in the on the road
The car followed me until I stopped and stood there with tears running down my face
” You are beautiful inside and out.”
Those words stunned me. All those years ago I had often wondered what he meant.
There we were sitting on the side of the gutter hugging, laughing and everything made sense 🙄
Being so young is probably the hardest part of our lives journey we live through.
Learning about compassion, kindness, truth, loyalty and wise words is a treasure trove of gifts only given to those that listen, learn and respect your Elders.
Listening is an acquired skill as is silence.
Listen to the wise, read and keep your mind active.
” Beauty is not in the eye of the Beholder, ”
BEAUTIFUL INSIDE AND OUT IS HONESTY ( the appreciation of beauties sacred meaning)
To be complimented from your hero ” you are beautiful inside and out”
Today my Husband is the only male or female to say those exact sacred words to me.
That day I grew up🕊
My husband loves me just the way I am. “How did I get so lucky”
Footnote * my mate died 5 years later with Cancer RIP. Never forgotten 🕊 Amen
Peace on Earth Good will to all.
A peace loving Humanist I extend a hand to those of my cultural roots the Xians. I love the identity part of the culture.
Xmas means family reunion & Carols. I love to sing Carols.
Join with me.🕊🕊
These scribbles are dedicated to today’s young warriors and their junior leaders of the Space Age.
Like generations of soldiers before them, they bear the brunt and are always ready to risk all in service
of their beloved country. GM
Special Values that Drive Them
Growing shadows on a scarred battlefield meet
Darkness arrives as terrible fear slowly creeps
Faint foreign noises and a young sentry’s pulse gathers speed
Thoughts whirling with desperate need
Searching, seeking for sound and praying for light
In the smothering black shroud of night
Hunger and thirst no longer the pain
As danger cloaked with blackness signals again
A rustling branch or snapping twig rears surging fright
The eyes are blind; listening is the key, in the long, long night
Noisy rasping breathing close by, where can it be?
Pounding heart and “Oh God, it’s me”
The comforting barks of friendly guns from far away
Then a welcome, whispering sound as flares turn night into day
Hissing, swinging above, creating light, spluttering and slowly dying
Harmless dancing shadows; sounds of relief from a sentry softly sighing
The soldier has conquered fear of the unknown and stood fast
More confident now and duty bound for any task
Soon after, sentry duty done, and time to sleep
Dirty, weary, hungry and thirsty in a muddy trench so deep
To dream of love, laughter and sweet, sweet home
Snug, safe in a peaceful place and no danger wherever to roam
A rough nudge destroys dreams; orders whispered to a team, wide awake
A new task to face the unknown, all together as true blue mates
As they prepare, soldiers quietly joke; their wit so wry
Sharing tins of food and drink sparingly to wet throats very dry
All for one and one for all is the battle cry of the team
Be they black, white, brindle and no matter what their past has been
By night fall, some could be dead and others in physical or mental pain
Yet mateship, unit pride and love of country stir them, again and again
George Mansford ©December 2018
“WHOA!” a poem in the series: “The Lost Love Letters of Santa To His Wife!” 12/23/18 (Sunday)
There’s A LOTTA JOY – and-also – A LOTTA PAIN,
In this life – (pause) please (Gladys) – Lemme explain:
That we gotta just TRY – every day,
To-tell all our loved ones – that they’re loved in every way!
So! When (I)(you) “GOOF-UP” – or things are misunderstood,
You-gotta just keep on-a-LOVING – and YOU’RE ALL I COULD,
EVER-a-HOPED FOR – and I don’t deserve you,
But – you-know? Gladys! Gee, what can I do?
Except – just keep lovin’-you – I’ve nowhere to go,
WHEN I’M ALREADY HOME, ‘midst “joyfulness” and “woe!”
And – WHOA! Y-know – joy’n’woe’s all-about-the-same!
“Here C-mSanta Claus x infinity!”
“I’M JUST A LOONY ROBOT, LOVIN’ [Y]OU!” a poem a.k.a.: “A Poem For Loving Mechanics Or For Loving Mechanics!” Sunday: December 23, 2018 in the series of: “The Lost Love Letters of Santa To His Wife!”
ANGELS K N O W : THEY’VE N O FREE WILL;
HUMANS! question-that-notion! at-least-I-THINK-they-do-still!!
So, who knows if there’s free will, or-if-we’re-programmed-ro-bots?!
We-got-that-HUMAN-EMOTION! Sometimes we got LOTS-&-LOTS!
‘Cause our faith is real weak – and The Flesh is Weak too!?
KISS-KISS-ME-LONG! Is there really much else we can do?
Kiss me, ROBOT – ’cause it feels SO GOOD,
When it’s from YOU – and y’know – I-never-could,
Feel well for long, without some human touching –
I’ll be YOUR-ROBOT-CAR-LOON!-I-might-need-some-“double-clutching!”
Well, when my clutch is in, things are a different speed –
WHEN YOU “RELEASE-IT,” SIMULTANEOUS IS JUST WHAT WE NEED!
And, if this be confusing – well, don’t worry, My Friend,
‘Cause my Honey, Sweet Gladys* – is-a-mechanic-who-can-send,
ME (Santa!) Free-will-or-not – Up-up-and-away! right: “OVER THE MOON!”
The polar-North wind blows-and-My-Heart-floats!
I’m-her ROBOTIC [L]OON! 🙂 – “S” stands for Sheela!
*Santa’s wife Gladys is: (1) GLAD! ’cause she is GLADys; (2) A Lady, ’cause she’s gLADYs; and (3) Kinda mysterious! ’cause “GLADYS” may be a secret code for some other name of some special girl who might be reading this!! If you break apart that name, you will have six letters! Each one of them stands for something! For instance, in GLADYS, “A” stands for Australia(n)! Can you figure out what the other five letters stand for? Good luck! 🙂 – Well, you have “S” supra!
Some great hidden truth’s there. Great poem….
MOVE OVER DOROTHEA MACKELLAR
When the shearing sheds are silent and the stock camps fallen quiet
When the gidgee coals no longer glow across the outback night
And the bush is forced to hang a sign, ‘gone broke and won’t be back’
And spirits fear to find a way beyond the beaten track
When harvesters stand derelict upon the wind swept plains
And brave hearts pin their hopes no more on chance of loving rains
When a hundred outback settlements are ghost towns overnight
When we’ve lost the drive and heart we had to once more see us right
When ‘Pioneer’ means a stereo and ‘Digger’ some backhoe
And the ‘Outback’ is behind the house, there’s nowhere else to go
And ‘Anzac’ is a biscuit brand and probably foreign owned
And education really means brainwashed and neatly cloned
When you have to bake a loaf of bread to make a decent crust
And our heritage once enshrined in gold is crumbling to dust
And old folk pay their camping fees on land for which they fought
And fishing is a great escape; this is until you’re caught
When you see our kids with yankee caps and resentment in their eyes
And the soaring crime and hopeless hearts is no longer a surprise
When the name of RM Williams is a yuppie clothing brand
Not a product of our heritage that grew off the land
When offering a hand makes people think you’ll amputate
And two dogs meeting in the street is what you call a ‘Mate’
When ‘Political Correctness’ has replaced all common sense
When you’re forced to see it their way, there’s no sitting on the fence
Yes one day you might find yourself an outcast in this land
Perhaps your heart will tell you then, ‘I should have made a stand’
Just go and ask the farmers that should remove all doubt
Then join the swelling ranks who say, ‘don’t sell Australia out’