Global City, Global Pity

The recent wave of terrorist attacks in Paris has clearly become a global issue as have attacks in any part of the world with the advent of global news and social media. It shows however that Paris as a major tourist destination and a global city is getting the lion’s share of support. Could there be this much support for victims and survivors of bombings in Baghdad or Lebanon? Maybe not.

It goes to show then that the aspect of globalization and the amount of sway a city has globally is a factor. London, New York, Boston, Paris, have all received great amounts of support. The point here is not to criticize anybody for their support but to encourage all who give their support to spread it evenly.

In summary, regional growth pole aspects come into play with attacks on regional centers attracting global support. Maybe we should look at the little people too and show some love.



Where do the mature go to vent?
Can a man write his poetry without the world fashioning intent..
Much ado about nothing
No person as a subject
No malice intended, just a matter of discussion
With one’s own soul, mind versus heart, in the chamber of one’s intellect
Logic and reason, philosophy accusing the heart of contempt

If you could walk by a stranger who sought your attention, a beggar even, ignored..
Would it be any less painful to them as the feeling of a loved one ignored?
If I wrote about pain, do I have to be in pain?
If I wrote about love, does that mean I am in it?

Will you allow me random thoughts about the state of the world?
Do I need permission? Do you, when you read what another wrote?

Some things are deeply personal
To the grave will they go
Trust no one with a secret, let it burn a hole if it dares through your very soul
For the moment you reveal it, it is a secret no more
To the wind it may have been blown

“Take nothing personal.” You’re joking. Are you serious? Really, are you?
Ignoring acts that are perpetrated in ignorance is a gift we all require
Ignoring acts, acts intended to harm is a sign of an in-dwelling Messiah

You will learn from life, that some humans can be inhumane
Some persons can be impersonal
And worse still impersonate, others to whom they look..
Seeking to achieve the reality of others while hurting others yet still

So you will understand that like the secrets hidden from the hearts and minds of men
Some things must be hidden from men
Some things, I tell you; are too deeply personal

Part deux

If indeed a secret, one chose to reveal
Treat it with the patience and responsibility akin to a craftsman’s skill
Some seek only to be heard from the silence of their pain
But can’t trust a human, for the sake of their name
For if their shame were public, a death of character would they die
So that the latter state of mind is ruined, as if threading a pipe with no dye

Protect that which personal to you and to others
Because truly I tell you, some things are deeply personal

Of Girls Like You and Guys Like Me

Becoming The Muse

I wrote you a very long  letter on a midnight-blue themed writing pad sprinkled with stars using a scented gel ink pen I wrote my heart out and sealed it with a loving kiss….

2015-03-01 09.28.jpg It’s still in my dresser drawer I never posted it, because girls like you don’t do stuff like that you laugh and call it corny.

When girls like you laugh, everyone laughs, it’s so natural and cute how you are always in the center of the room regardless of where exactly you are standing and you don’t seem to notice the attention you draw, just like a butterfly unaware of its own beauty.

Girls like you date guys who are alpha males, who drive fancy cars who are always flush with cash to blow on you, your friends and your friends’s friends because you always roll as a clique. You say you like guys who are…

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The 20 saddest photos of all time

All That I Love

What is the exact measure of what makes us human? What is the primary feeling that separates us from irrational beings? It is our unique ability of solidarity and indignation in the face of misery and pain of others? The pictures below were taken from research through compilation of reports and lists published by newspapers, magazines, websites specializing in photography, photojournalism and history.

The research aimed to identify what were the saddest photos of all time. Participated in the survey the publications: Life, The Guardian, Der Spiegel, Telegraph, El Universal, The Pulitzer Prizes, Day Life, World’s Famous Photos, Digital History, Listverse, Newspapers Option, Al Fotto, National Geographic and World Press Photo. Obviously lists are always incomplete. It is known that, like the perception, the subjective – that was the basis of the research – is an individual thing.

However, the pictures selected, if not unanimity among journalists and photographers (and…

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#poetry *snapping*


I have a thing for broken toys,
The forgotten ones,
Sitting lonesome on that top shelf.
Broken toys with the broken joints,
the creaky joints,
The bursting seams,
Unsure of themselves.

I have a thing for the broken toys,
The unhinged wheel,
The legless soldier,
The hairless pageant queen,
the chewed up teddy bear,
childhoods forgotten dreams.

I have a thing for the broken toys,
The broken souls,
Their forgotten goals,
Their inhinged hearts,
Their mending lives.

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Mona on Memoir

For the book people


This post comes from our bookseller Mona.

blogpic2Last fall, I reported on seeing Mary Karr at our store when she came to talk to us about her latest book, The Art of Memoir. Karr’s book had me thinking deeply about the memoir form, particularly those books written by women.

In 2014, I audited a course on women’s autobiographical writing at UT. That experience set the foundation for a lifetime of thoughtful examination of women’s voices, both classic and contemporary. (If you have an opportunity to, I highly recommend you seek out a similar classroom course or reading group.)

What distinguishes a great memoir for me is a book that provides a powerful emotional experience. Adversity is at the forefront of an author’s story. There are usually strands in the author’s story that match my own. There is always a searching for things that have been lost — for absent…

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