this planet is not our paradise lost, it is our paradise trampled upon, then discarded.
when man realized he had recklessly thrown away his own home, he struggled to find a way to extricate it from its own end, by looking inward to repair the outward.
man is as man does, and hopefully soon
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
.jpg)
Posts
Followers
Blog Archive
-
▼
2009
(184)
-
▼
January
(27)
- underdogs
- life is not a dream, but a furtive, ever changing...
- this planet is not our paradise lost, it is our pa...
- a banned done dog on the road
- antitoxin
- i do not write in the profundity of pretense my fe...
- i would like to find a place where i could be myse...
- she stands
- bathing in the rush of history
- torn
- stuck-o
- sometimes
- push
- she found herself plunged into a morass, the inten...
- i have walked the world through different eyes nev...
- you manity
- the tentacles of distortion stretch far and suffoc...
- though sometimes under cover old prejudices still ...
- poeme perdue
- judge mental
- inside, her quiet demeanor churned. this had been ...
- No title
- to naysa(an abused mare in louisiana)
- life is box of empty/full surreal
- i will not play cupid for the epidemic of stupid
- will this
- ice o layshun
-
▼
January
(27)
About Me
- karen lyons kalmenson
- greetings! i have managed to incorporate my eternal woodstock nation spirit with the high tech 21st century world. i am an artist/writer, who dabbles in rhyme, and, sometimes, reason. my passions are my husband, who is truly the wind that ruffles my sails, animals rights, yoga...waking up in the morning. i find inspiration in too many things to list, and far too many more to remember. sketching, watercolor painting,poetry and photography are my ways of expressing joy and gratitude. from living with a chronic illness, i have learned the beauty of each day, and treat each as another sun salutation, and another chance.
No comments:
Post a Comment