When love means no bound no worries just PURE LOVE

Love one awesome word but even better and amazing feeling, Lord why this hasn't happened before. People search for true love, they say love is something that happens, its something one has to compromise with ask yourself whether it is true enough what people say. Look deep with your heart did you ever respect the feeling of the opposite person? Did you ever feel what the person feels for you?

EYELID DANCER........

Eyelid Dancer

© Mark Sudan

Me on the left and you on the right
the way we laid our bodies the start of the night.

My head on two pillows as yours lay on one
tired from the day and all we had done.

One arm under pillow, the other kept you warm
I'd pull you in close during thunder and storm.

I still remember the sweet scent of your hair
As we closed our eyes and I held you for prayer.

The rise and fall of breath from your chest
would remind me of that day that God had blessed.

Your face would go soft and lips would yawn
You'd fall asleep with the television still on.

Middle of the night your house stayed warm
The fan on high was always the norm.

I'd stolen the blanket and kicked down the sheet
The only pillow you had now lay at your feet.

Sometimes I'd wake while there you still lay
I'd creep to your bedside and kneel as to pray.

I would lean in close as if to steal a kiss
These moments of affection are the ones that I miss.

I’d sit and watch while you lay there and snore
I’d sometimes fall asleep with my head on the floor.

You always thought you slept without peep
Instead of counting them you baa’d like a sheep.

Your body lay still ‘cept for the rise and fall 
Of your beautiful body that lay there in sprawl.

But the most memorable part of those sleepless nights
Wasn’t the snoring, the prayer or absence of lights-

It was the way in which your eyes would flicker
Beneath lid and lash I would try not to snicker.

To me it was funny to just watch them move
As if they were dancers stepping to groove.

I could only guess what your mind would dream
Maybe thoughts of our future and how it would seem.

Would it be an uphill battle, a test for all time?, 
Or simply steps in a stairwell that together we’d climb.

Most of the mornings you’d wake with a smile
And some you slept in for at least a little while.

But now these memories are just written in line
And filed in a cabinet in the back of my mind.

Memory of you sleeping, snoring, eyes wide shut
Now my heart beating, bleeding, crimson and cut. 

Your eyelids would flutter as your eyes would dance
And I’d pray to God to just give me the chance-

To fix what I'd done and to right the wrong 
Of the poor choices that I'd hidden for oh so long.

These are the thoughts I now remember the most
the memories in my heart I still hold so close.

Times I sat by your side as night was still grey
All through the morning before dark turned to day.

I’d ask Him to bless this love I’d forsaken
Taken for granted and stole for the taking.

Unfortunately I received a different kind of answer
but you will always remain my eyelid dancer.

You think you are done......... Life enters :)

Things look bleak and dont work the way it should, everyday I come to office with a mind set to work and make progress. The mornings seems to good and starts with bang but as the day proceed the phone rings and that is when all the shit happens, wish the phone never rings in the morning then what a pleasant day  it would be but strange the mind thinks the other way if the phone does not ring what must have happened him/her, she /he did not call or message. What a funny life to lead though we know there shit all the way we still prefer to choose this way rather than taking the way which does look hard but satisfying.

Feel like this a examination of life without any reference material nothing other than experience counts and if you pass you are jacked for more and if you fail you are grilled for one more funny, school test were a hundred times better.........

Running away from problems seems to be no end, cos they form circle and run with you, you take a turn and you see another waiting. funny nah.......................

When you feel like giving up, then pops up a option only to take you in to deeper shit, same continues and continues for ever. Unable to take charge of problem and shove it up its ass and say those beautiful 2 words.......................


"LEAVE ME"

Lost Friendship

                 I see your smile
                 I know your mind
                 No words need be said
                 I understand.

                 Focused on each other
                 We listen and we care
                 Laughter ripples like water
                 Together, we are.

                 Others are here, yes,
                 And we value them, yes,
                 But a special bond remains,
                 A line between us two.

                 Each friendship is special
                 Each is unique
                 And so is ours
                 We know.

                 And then time begins to roll
                 and rear it’s ugly head
                 Change begins
                 Now a little less than before.

                 Slowly, surely,
                 Not knowing why
                 Faster, stronger, without care
                 Our world shifts and shimmers and splits.

                 Shattered shards cascade down
                 Spurred by angry, lashing words
                 Contorted faces, stone deaf ears
                 Outside the whirlwind,
                 We die inside. 

                 The scars run deep
                 Jagged clefts in our souls
                 We have succeeded in hurting
                 And hurt ourselves.

                 So you move on
                 And I remain
                 We keep on living
                 Turn our faces apart.
                 
                 Now I glance across
                 At you from outside
                 Shaded eyes dry with tears
                 New friends, new life.
 
                 Laughter, smiling (clenched teeth)
                 The flippant toss of the head
                 The enclosure surrounds you
                 I cannot come near.
                 
                 From behind my glass window
                 I know more than those within
                 I see the hurt in your eyes
                 I know the pain in your smile
                 I have been there before - I love you
                     Why do you pretend?

                 I hate to see your pain
                 And I cry inside
                 Tears deep within my soul
                 I cannot help you anymore.

                 What we had once
                 We can never have again.
                 

                 The scars run deep,
                 But I still care.


                 You were my friend.

What I Could Not Do

By the precious blood of Jesus
Like a lamb without blemish or spot
He redeemed us from our futile ways
That the world and our sinfulness taught.

Though our sins be as scarlet and crimson
By His blood we are washed white as wool
His presence to cleanse and to heal us
His peace to restore and make whole.

Our pardon was purchased on Calvary
A new covenant sealed by His blood
What we could not do, He did for us
When He washed away sin like a flood.

Fear not said our Great God and Savior
To approach the great Father above
It’s His pleasure to give you the kingdom
Tender mercies and unfailing love.

We are beckoned - approach the throne boldly
Our entrance secured through the cross
No matter how small, or great the request
Not one word is forgotten or lost.

Who Knows???????????????

Nobody knows the trials I've faced
Nor faced the trials I've known,
Except for the One who died for my sin
And shed precious blood to atone.


Nobody knows the weight I have borne
Nor borne the weight I have known,
Except for the One who suffered the cross
Forsaken by friends and alone.

Nobody knows the tears I have cried
Nor cried the tears I have known,
Except for the One who has dried every tear
By the comfort and grace He has shown.

Nobody knows the battles I've fought
Nor fought the battles I've known,
Except for the King who conquered death
And into whose arms I have flown.

Nobody knows the victories I've won
Nor won the victories I've known,
Except for the King who calls me His child
Whom He loves and will never disown.

I'M TRYING, BUT...................

I’m trying, but…
what I want to do,
I don’t do enough of,
and what I don’t want to do,
I do too much of.
I know the rules for a Christian life,
according to the Bible,
and I’m trying; I really am, but…
heaven and eternity seem so far away,
and the rampantly materialistic world
presses in so close
from every direction, every side,
that I get distracted.
Focus, focus, focus!
I need to focus, laser-like
on a simple, God-centered life.
Do I really need
to make that frivolous purchase,
instead of giving the money
to someone who needs it
so much more than I do?
Can I watch that TV show,
read that book, listen to that song
that contains (and promotes!)
even a little bit
of what the Bible forbids,
without being corrupted?
Do I do enough
to love and help and encourage others?
Pride always hovers,
eagerly waiting
to subdue and conquer humility,
so I think too much of myself.
I know the rules;
the Bible makes everything clear.
Forgive me, Lord;
I’m trying, but…
Romans 7:15
Matthew 6:19
Matthew 22:39
Philippians 4:8

By Joanna Fuchs

haaaaaa...............

a Sigh of relief pooooooooooofff....................                      seems to be far away in the woods. analyzing things to go my way but shit happens on my way. Waiting in anxiety for the DAY to come and get me by the blink of the eye lid and take me to the place i belong 

Squirrel

 

It was when Squirrel Nutkin appeared at the October Board meeting that Mr Ramsay began to acquire his reputation for eccentricity. And that's putting it mildly. A mild mannered man like him, too. Never said a word, usually. Kept his contributions to meetings to shaking his head in disapproval. Let everybody walk all over him. Especially Mr Giles.
    
To be fair, there were people who said at the time that there was nothing wrong in wearing a glove puppet to a board meeting as such, but there were more who disagreed, and several who thought that Mr Ramsay was off his chump. The matter was hotly disputed in every one of the company's offices, on the shopfloor, in the canteen. Mr Ramsay was well-liked, even if everyone thought him ineffectual, so a lot of people stuck up for him, even if they thought the squirrel a bit odd. The one thing at which everybody drew the line, though, was his according the squirrel executive powers.
    
It happened during Mr Giles's monthly overlong summary of the company's financial position. Two factors, he was saying, were making the prospects for Ramsay & Co look bleak. These were:
    
1. the downturn in the ladies' hosiery market. Sales had, like the inferior products of the company's competitors, been slipping for years, and
    
2. the inefficiency of Ramsay & Co compared to its competitors.
    
The first of these factors spoke for itself, he said. There were simply fewer items of hosiery being sold, whether this was due to a new fashion for bare-leggedness due to the long hot summer combined with the undoubted increase in the uptake of feminine trouserings, or was a sign of continued recession was not for him to say. Ramsay & Co simply had to face the facts, whether they liked them or not, and accept what the market was telling them. Reality didn't always turn out the way people wanted it to.
    

    
The second factor, however, they could do something about. Ramsay & Co's costs were inordinately high compared to those of Ladylegs, for instance, who had been cutting back on staff over the last five years, reducing their workforce to one-fifth of its previous level. They were now
    
1. running a smooth, automated plant with high yield, minimum disruption and predictable throughput, and
    
2. (even if their reputation for quality was nowhere near that of Ramsay & Co) capitalising on the low overheads and were, in business terms, far healthier.
    
It was high time that Ramsay & Co got itself into a similar position, he said. The workforce had to be trimmed down, and modern plant had to be invested in. Mr Ramsay had to listen to what the market was telling him and continue modernising the business if it was to survive. Mr Giles had already implemented a number of changes that had had a beneficial effect, despite Mr Ramsay's reluctance to agree, but the firm had to go much, much further if it were to survive in today's increasingly competitive marketplace. Mr Giles was aware of Mr Ramsay's feelings on the matter of his staff, but he really felt that it was necessary to de-emphasise the idea of employer responsibility to staff in the company's ethos.
    
None of the Board members was surprised at what Mr Giles had to say. He had, after all, said it all before, many times, over the past several months. Mr Ramsay had, until now, always stubbornly resisted him - insisting that Ramsay & Co was a family business, was still the largest hosiery manufacturer in Scotland and the North of England, and had a duty of loyalty to its staff, some of whom had been with the company for thirty or forty years - until grudgingly allowing Mr Giles to make some of the changes he was arguing for.
    
This time, though, what happened was different from all the previous occasions similar things had taken place in two important respects:

1. Mr Giles was now demanding much more far-reaching action than he had ever done before. He was arguing for a major reduction in the workforce, knowing that Mr Ramsay had always forbidden this in the past.
    
2. Mr Ramsay had never before slowly produced a glove puppet from underneath the table. He had never had a squirrel sitting on his left hand during a presentation from any of the Board members, and he had never behaved as if nothing untoward was happening when it patently was. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and the other Board members sat shocked into rigid silence as Mr Giles droned on about overheads.
    
The only two pairs of eyes in the room focused in any way whatsoever on Mr Giles during his summation of the company's position were those of Mr Ramsay and the squirrel, both of whom were shaking their heads very slightly. Mr Ramsay was making the occasional tutting noise to indicate his lack of approval. Ms McCool, the Public Relations person, had her mouth wide open with surprise and was staring at the puppet.
    
The puppet noticed her attention, and turned his whole body - he couldn't move his head independently - to meet her gaze. His big black eyes seemed to be taking her in detail by detail, and she withered slightly under his scrutiny. He stared at her for more than a minute, then began a slow survey of the room and its occupants, turning slowly through 180 degrees. If something attracted his attention he would continue turning slowly past it then suddenly turn back, as if trying to take it by surprise, and stare at it intently for several seconds before resuming his slow arc.
    
Mr Giles didn't notice for six or seven minutes. He was quite used to there being a deathly hush when he was speaking at Board meetings. Not many people could readily understand his figures and projections, so they usually had to pay very close attention to what he was saying.
    

    
Not today, though. People were staring at the squirrel. It wasn't until Mr Giles paused in his disquisition to say 'if you could just bear with me a moment, I have a chart here which illustrates the extent to which we' that he looked up and noticed
    
1. that he was not the centre of attention, and
    
2. that there was a squirrel at the table.
    
He was speechless. He forgot all about the chart illustrating the extent to which we, and all about the bleak financial position he had been so concerned about milliseconds ago. He rocked back on his heels and said 'squirrel' before staggering back seven or eight paces until the backs of his knees connected with a grey plastic chair and he slumped down into it heavily.
    
'Thank you, John,' said Mr Ramsay. 'That was, as usual, very informative, and I'm sure that we all found it very interesting, if rather worrisome.'
    
There was a pause. Everything was very quiet, like people were under some sort of spell. The effect was disrupted by Mr Ramsay, who bent down to his left, towards the squirrel. The squirrel reached up to whisper into his ear.
    
'What's that, Squirrel Nutkin?' said Mr Ramsay.
    
The squirrel whispered again.
    
'Oh, I don't know if I agree' said Mr Ramsay. 'You may be quite right, but I think 'Sheer bloody incompetence' is overstating it somewhat. I do agree, though, that there are going to have to be some changes.'
    
There was another pause. It was, if anything, more intense than the previous one. There was what might have been called an 'air' about the room. Of expectancy.
    
After ninety seconds of eternity, Mr Ramsay spoke again. 'We think,' he said, 'that is, Squirrel Nutkin and I think, that it's time there was a new hand on the tiller. There won't be any more Board meetings for a while. Squirrel Nutkin and I are going to take over most aspects of the running of the company, though I do expect to be calling on you for advice. I'm appointing Squirrel Nutkin Managing Director, and I shall become a fully active chairman with executive powers and ultimate responsibility. I shall, however, be leaving the day-to-day decisions to my colleague.'

He looked down at the squirrel, smiled at it, and nodded. It nodded back, then turned to face the former Board members. Mr Ramsay continued.
    
'I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all for all the sterling work you have done on behalf of the company over the years, and would like to say that none of you should feel in any way threatened by the decisions that have been made here today. None of you will lose your position - I look upon you all as members of the Ramsay & Co family, very valuable members, sons and daughters.'
    
Mr Ramsay appeared to become almost tearful as he said this, but he regained his composure in a moment.
    
'Well,' he said, 'I don't think there will be any further business for this meeting today, or, indeed, for the foreseeable future, so why don't you all take the rest of the afternoon off.'
    
The others could sense that Mr Giles was definitely thinking of saying something, of questioning Mr Ramsay's actions, but they all knew it was futile, even Mr Giles. There was nothing anybody could do. Mr Ramsay owned the company. If he wanted to appoint a puppet managing director he was perfectly entitled to do so. The fact that he had in the past left the running of the company to the Board was neither here nor there. He had no shareholders to answer to - his family had built the company up and had kept it going, unusually, by re-investing their profits in the business instead of lining their own pockets. Mr Ramsay had sole control, even if he hadn't exercised it until now. The Board had just been one of his inventions, just a management tool, just there to save him from doing any actual work, to save him from having to make decisions. He was quite at liberty to dispense with it.
     
 Mr Giles was furious when the redundancy notice came in the post the next day. It talked of the many many months of valuable service he had put in since he had been taken on at the Board's recommendation. The Board, it said, had felt that it had needed an injection of business acumen, and had seen in Mr Giles an excellent source of these skills. However, it continued, circumstances had now changed, and it was now felt necessary to de-emphasise the importance of commercial nous. Mr Giles recognised this phrase, and bristled with resentment at the sarcasm. The letter concluded by saying that the company would be more than willing to provide him with excellent references, should he wish to apply for another position elsewhere. It was signed 'Yours sincerely, S Nutkin, Managing Director.'

He tore the letter into shreds, thought better of it and taped it back together. He took it into the office to confront Mr Ramsay with it.
    
When he got to the outer office, and spoke to Miss Paterson, he was told that Mr Ramsay wasn't there.
    
'How can he not be here,' Mr Giles said. 'He's supposed to be running the company.'
    
'Mr Nutkin is here,' said Miss Paterson.
    
'What?' Mr Giles realised he was shouting and made a conscious effort to calm himself.
    
'I have been told to tell you that Mr Nutkin is here,' said Miss Paterson, though she said it in a soothing manner, as if she had a degree of sympathy for him.
    
'This is ridiculous,' he said, and stormed into the office. It was darkened. Under the only lamp in the room sat the squirrel, writing a memo. It seemed larger than it had done at the board meeting, and slightly more animated. More alive.
    
Strange.
    
It looked up.
    
'Ah, come in, John,' it said. 'I've been expecting you. This will be about the letter, I expect. Have a seat.' Its voice was strangely disembodied. Echoing. Ethereal, like the Voice of God emanating from on high.
    
Mr Giles was taken aback to be addressed by the squirrel, but quickly overcame his shock. He swallowed hard and said, more, shouted, 'I will not bloody have a seat. I'm going to come round there, I'm going to wrench that puppet off your hand and I'm going to kick your arse, Ramsay, you sorry bastard.'
    
'Language,' said the squirrel, turning round to follow Mr Giles's progress round the desk. 'I think you're in for a bit of a surprise.'

Mr Giles was, indeed, surprised on reaching the other side of the desk. He had expected to find Mr Ramsay crouched behind the desk with his hand working the squirrel, his hind quarters protruding. What he actually found was just a chair, with some sort of tray resting between its arms. The squirrel was sitting on this, on its own, unsupported. It had its back legs crossed, left over right.
    
For the second time in two days, Mr Giles staggered back, speechless.
    
'Sit down,' the squirrel said.
    
Mr Giles did, staggering back and sinking heavily into the simulation leather chair behind him. It made a soft pththth noise.
    
'I'm not a glove puppet,' the squirrel said. 'I'm a sort of industrial hit man. I've been hired to do someone else's dirty work. Between you and me, Ramsay could never stand you, but was too frightened to say anything. He hired me to get rid of you. It was either that or have you killed, and that's not really his style.'
    
There was a silence as Mr Giles took this in. 'I don't understand,' he said. 'A squirrel. A puppet. I thought I was doing a good job. For the firm,' he said, hesitantly, shaking his head and rubbing the bridge of his nose.
    
'That's as maybe,' said the squirrel, 'but Ramsay's a sentimental old fool. He wasn't going to let you lay off most of the staff. It may not make any sense, commercially, but he thinks he's got responsibilities to them. You see now why you had to go.'
    
'I never thought he'd have the guts,' said Mr Giles. 'I can't believe I'm talking to a squirrel.'
    
'Indeed,' said the squirrel. 'But you are talking to a squirrel. You can see me, I'm talking to you. You've got to face facts, John.'

'But why?' said Mr Giles.
    
'Why what?' said the squirrel.
    
'All this,' Mr Giles said. He made an expansive sweep with his arm. 'You, my job. You're a squirrel, for God's sake.'
    
'Granted,' said the squirrel. 'I am a squirrel, but I have certain qualities. Qualities that Mr Ramsay found he was in need of. You were quite right about him. He hasn't got guts, certainly not the guts to get rid of you, that's why he needed me.' The squirrel's eye seemed to glint, malevolently. There was, Mr Giles thought, more than a hint of menace about it. It continued speaking. 'Still,' it said, 'you won't have too much trouble finding another position, I imagine. There are plenty of opportunities out there for a man with your aggressive marketing skills.'
    
'It's not going to be easy,' said Mr Giles.
    
'Indeed,' said the squirrel. 'But you have to face facts, John. See this as a challenge, an opportunity, not as a problem. Well, good luck, and close the door behind you on the way out. Thanks.'
    
The squirrel resumed its memo-writing.
    
Mr Giles got up and headed for the door, befuddled, defeated, turning back to peer into the gloom surrounding the squirrel. Odd. Obviously. Fired by a talking squirrel. Very odd. Still, there was nothing he could do about it. He shrugged his shoulders and was about to step through the door, but the squirrel had one more thing to say.
    
'There's more than one kind of puppet, John,' it called out after him.
    
He didn't look back.
    

A Dieter's Despair

Oh my soul, be thou quiet
This is not 'another diet'
Just a program of exchange
Though some things do seem strange

Raw vegetables and 'brock-o-lee'
Does not sound too good to me
Lots of tofu and bean sprouts
While my empty stomach shouts

The meaning here is quite plain;
This program is designed for pain
Someone with anorexia planned
A program that tastes like sand

My hands are sweating, my soul is dreading
I must keep this thing from spreading
My only hope, the paper shredder
It finally made this diet better

A Perfect recipe for a Perfect Family

You will need:
1 large house
3-6 people, depending on how long you want to wait for it to be done
3 cups of pets
2 cups of patience
3 ounces of anger/frustration
3 quarts of laughter
4 teaspoons of trust
And last but definitely not least,
Lots and lots of love

First, open the house, and make sure that it will be the right size for your family. Mix the desired amount of people with the pets, carefully so you don’t damage them. In a separate bowl, stir the love and laughter together. Set aside. Taking each person separately, evenly distribute the patience and trust, making sure that each one gets an equal amount (Failure to distribute evenly may lead to different recipe! See recipe for “My impatient family” for details…). Carefully open the bottle of anger/frustration. Using a Q-tip, dab small portions of the anger/frustration onto each person. Lastly, take the love and laughter and sprinkle it all over the house, pets, and people. Let sit until all parts of the recipe are thoroughly combined, and voila! Your Perfect Family is complete.

My life in a few Funny Words

Every day I am bombarded
In each direction that I turn
By those who claim that EXERCISE
Causes flab to crash and burn

I did jumping jacks and sit ups
Went out and bought that dam machine
The one that guarantees in 30 days
I'd be trim and fit and lean...

I put it in the extra room
That we affectionately call the "gym"
With all the other paraphenalia
That will one day make me slim!

Ab mats for doing crunches
A small tramp to run in place
That awful, go-nowhere pedaling bike
That only leaves me red of face!

I have workout clothes and sweat bands
Even a "get-fit" coffee cup!
But that scale hasn't budged an inch
So, I'm on the verge of giving up!

I've just about convinced myself
That it's true what some folks say...
You have heard it too......Eat Right!
Get Fit? Die anyway!!

So for those who are devoted
To trying to make me over, PLEASE!
If God wanted me to touch my toes
He would have put them on my knees!

I believe He loves us as we are
That includes both big AND small
So when I reach the gates of Heaven
It will be with flab and all!

My Life My Words

Let me introduce you to myself, my name is Terence Leo Dawson. trying figure out why did my parents or family keep that name. I like my name but still keep thinking why such a different name. currently tied with my elder brothers to be precise u could say family business, working in our office seems to be a different exposure to life. done my schooling from St.Paul's High School Hyderguda, Hyderabad (the best days of life), then moved onto plus 2 or inter or what so ever u call it from Little Flower Junior College Uppal (better days of life), and then graduation from Bhavan's New Science Degree College Narayanaguda, Hyderabad(never ever been to college), and then finally post graduation from annamalai university, Annamalai Nagar, Chennai(unforgettable experiences). Hello don't think its over there is still more in between tried to attempt Chartered Accountancy thrice but still high hopes to clear it and become a certified CA for two reasons, will tell u gradually, tried my hand various software courses in the field of accounts but yielded no results. common lets get ahead tryin to regain the lost memory of the by gone years.

Born on September 27th 1984 into the Dawson's family(the best I could get), don't remember much about ma early childhood but wat elder say that I was child who was roguish, by nature still feel the same. Remember the day first day at school, I was surrounded by so many children crying never knew what to do so I started crying out of emotion my nursery teacher's name as far I remember is Mrs. Rita slowing started to love the school, my watchman so friendly how I could forget him Shaik Ali one person who I will never forget such a lovely person. Mom used come daily to school with a big bag filled with lots of hot hot food for my elder brothers and of course me, my brothers study in the same school as I did. I had half a day school mom used to wait at the gate near a tamrind tree sitting on the pavement. Then pick me up and go to my elder brothers school which was a walking distance(we had different buildings for primary section and higher section) and stay in the underground cellar of the high school building near Khan Saab he was our school cycle stand care taker such lovely person he was, there we used wait for both my brothers to arrive and then have food. Once the lunch bell rang mom and I were to leave the school campus and head towards home, here I had loads of friends, me being the meanest of the bunch.



man tired of writing will be updating it soon very soon