I was so mad today. I just wanted to put my thoughts to words:- My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,—
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Aught, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;
And mid-May’s eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
To thy high requiem become a sod.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now ‘tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?
Is anyone truly better off in @realDonaldTrump ‘s America?
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Hello Friends, Wishing everyone a wonderful day!!
I sincerely hope that everyone is having a great day. I know that life can be very difficult at times and if you are going through something right now I am sending YOU some positive vibes and energy. I hope that your day goes better. Remember that whatever you are going through will pass. Stay strong!
Sending everyone Positive Vibes and Love!!
Peace and Love, Kindness
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Alexander Malichenko Up this green woodland-ride let’s softly rove,
And list the nightingale— she dwells just here.
Hush ! let the wood-gate softly clap, for fear
The noise might drive her from her home of love ;
For here I’ve heard her many a merry year—
At morn, at eve, nay, all the live-long day,
As though she lived on song. This very spot,
Just where that old-man’s-beard all wildly trails
Rude arbours o’er the road, and stops the way—
And where that child its blue-bell flowers hath got,
Laughing and creeping through the mossy rails—
There have I hunted like a very boy,
Creeping on hands and knees through matted thorn
To find her nest, and see her feed her young.
And vainly did I many hours employ :
All seemed as hidden as a thought unborn.
And where those crimping fern-leaves ramp among
The hazel’s under boughs, I’ve nestled down,
And watched her while she sung ; and her renown
Hath made me marvel that so famed a bird
Should have no better dress than russet brown.
Her wings would tremble in her ecstasy,
And feathers stand on end, as ’twere with joy,
And mouth wide open to release her heart
Of its out-sobbing songs. The happiest part
Of summer’s fame she shared, for so to me
Did happy fancies shapen her employ ;
But if I touched a bush, or scarcely stirred,
All in a moment stopt. I watched in vain :
The timid bird had left the hazel bush,
And at a distance hid to sing again.
Lost in a wilderness of listening leaves,
Rich Ecstasy would pour its luscious strain,
Till envy spurred the emulating thrush
To start less wild and scarce inferior songs ;
For while of half the year Care him bereaves,
To damp the ardour of his speckled breast ;
The nightingale to summer’s life belongs,
And naked trees, and winter’s nipping wrongs,
Are strangers to her music and her rest.
Her joys are evergreen, her world is wide—
Hark! there she is as usual— let’s be hush—
For in this black-thorn clump, if rightly guest,
Her curious house is hidden. Part aside
These hazel branches in a gentle way,
And stoop right cautious ‘neath the rustling boughs,
For we will have another search to day,
And hunt this fern-strewn thorn-clump round and round ;
And where this reeded wood-grass idly bows,
We’ll wade right through, it is a likely nook :
In such like spots, and often on the ground,
They’ll build, where rude boys never think to look—
Aye, as I live ! her secret nest is here,
Upon this white-thorn stump ! I’ve searched about
For hours in vain. There! put that bramble by—
Nay, trample on its branches and get near.
How subtle is the bird ! she started out,
And raised a plaintive note of danger nigh,
Ere we were past the brambles ; and now, near
Her nest, she sudden stops— as choking fear,
That might betray her home. So even now
We’ll leave it as we found it : safety’s guard
Of pathless solitudes shall keep it still.
See there! she’s sitting on the old oak bough,
Mute in her fears ; our presence doth retard
Her joys, and doubt turns every rapture chill.
Sing on, sweet bird! may no worse hap befall
Thy visions, than the fear that now deceives.
We will not plunder music of its dower,
Nor turn this spot of happiness to thrall ;
For melody seems hid in every flower,
That blossoms near thy home. These harebells all
Seem bowing with the beautiful in song ;
And gaping cuckoo-flower, with spotted leaves,
Seems blushing of the singing it has heard.
How curious is the nest ; no other bird
Uses such loose materials, or weaves
Its dwelling in such spots : dead oaken leaves
Are placed without, and velvet moss within,
And little scraps of grass, and, scant and spare,
What scarcely seem materials, down and hair ;
For from men’s haunts she nothing seems to win.
Yet Nature is the builder, and contrives
Homes for her children’s comfort, even here ;
Where Solitude’s disciples spend their lives
Unseen, save when a wanderer passes near
That loves such pleasant places. Deep adown,
The nest is made a hermit’s mossy cell.
Snug lie her curious eggs in number five,
Of deadened green, or rather olive brown ;
And the old prickly thorn-bush guards them well.
So here we’ll leave them, still unknown to wrong,
As the old woodland’s legacy of song.
Today I am sitting here thinking of the past, thinking of who I used to be, the mistakes I have made and person I thought I had to be.
See, for the past 40 years I have been living a lie. Only a handful of people truly know the real Jason.
I have been confused as to who I needed to be in life and let my insecurities and the opinions of others pave the path for me, which has lead me to live an unhappy life on the inside while trying to live a happy life in the eyes of others on the outside.
There have been many times where I have been in a deep dark hole of helplessness not knowing how or where to go. I have never felt that I have belonged. I have hidden the fact that I am a caring, sensitive, gental and emotional man. I have been ashamed of these attributes because I thought I had to be the typical stereotype male who is strong and doesnt show emotion. Thats not me
I have always felt that I was different, that I was the person standing in the corner of the room. This is something that I could never understand and had a huge impact on my life. I was never happy within and constantly felt that something was wrong with me.
All I ever wanted was to be happy and accepted…
Four weeks ago I started taking a functional beverage thats designed to help release the happy hormones in the brain. I was sceptical!!!! Seriously sceptical!!!! But i thought to myself, what if, what if this is what I have been hoping for all these years, what if this drink has the ability to bring me HAPPINESS. So i gave it a go and four weeks on my life has completely changed.
That world that I lived in where I felt trapped is lifting. I can see hope in the horizon. I am HAPPY, energised, focused and I can finally think clear thoughts.
For the first time ever I have the confidence to show the world who I truly am without feeling ashamed. I have the confidence to stand tall and be proud of myself.
I am beginning to love the person who I am becoming, the true ME is shinning
To think that a natural functional beverage called Coffee has given me the ability to do this is just outrageous.
But it does.
Four weeks ago I would have never written this post, I would never opened up because I was scare to become vulnerable because someone might hate upon me
Well let me tell you that I dont care what anyone thinks of me anymore….
Its been hard to write this post and express my feelings, but i did this in the hope that somone reading this can relate.
What I have to say to that person is that there is hope. There is something that can pull you from that dark place, something that can create happiness within.
I know because its happened to me
COFFEE AND COCKTAILS: THE TALE OF THE OLD GRINGO.” a poem September 21, 2019 (Sunday) a.k.a.: “Ole Nuestro Alpine.”
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If you see a Van Gogh landscape
And go into raptures about it
You rise to the same level of dear Vincent
For he painted it, not for himself
But, for you and only for you
If you read Ode on a Grecian Urn
Tinged with excitement of the moment
And run in circles, overcome by the feeling
You have become another Keats, in spirit
In appreciation, and romance.
For dear John rose to the heights of poesy
Not for his sake, but for you and only you.
The same is true of all great creative endeavors.
- Thank you GodGive thanks to God for what you are now, and keep praying and fighting for what you want to be tomorrow.
- BeautifulI am thankful for the difficult people in my life.they have shown me exactly who I don’t want to be.
- Thought of the day
- Thought of the dayAdvertisements
- Kindness Advertisements
If you love
Ever let it be
Love for love’s sake
And for nothing else.
All over the world
For true love
Pining for the lover
A warm hug
Tender kiss on the lips
And charged with meaning
True love is rare,
Hard to come by
And if you ever love
Let it always be
The truest love
Or not love at all.