Why?This word is significant in Every Way! Let me put up some why's. After you answer it once... question the answer until you reach road block. Road block aren't dangerous. I will explain what road blocks really are after these sets of questions:More Like This
Why is there poverty?
Why is there greed?
Why are there war and conflicts?
Why is love difficult to understand?
Why are relationships stressful?
Why do we pay to live on this planet?
Why do can't our governments can't fix problems without making them worse?
Why do we have religions even though they create more conflicts than peace?
Why do we believe in things we created in minds?
Why do we experience hurt and want to hurt others?
Why don't we use our intuition and feelings?
Why do we become slaves to our governments and establishments?
Roadblocks are signs that you are heading into the right direction. It is not easy climbing Everest. Once you reach the top is the climax. This Climatic roadblock is the
dare you reject me?my name is help.More Like This
everyone wants me at the wrong time,
my name constantly being torn from parched throats and shrieked with hoarse voices.
unless you're happy.
then you don't want or
many can't accept me, even when i masquerade myself as 'assistance' or 'aid'.
pride is no friend of mine and
i make a lover out of every furious emotion a human can comprehend;
anguish on mondays, fright on tuesdays,
resentment on wednesdays,
fear on thursdays,
hopelessness on fridays, anger on saturdays,
reluctance on sundays.
i flirt with disaster and shun predictability like a bad habit.
there's a rumor going around that i taste bitter on young lips and familiar on the old,
but validity is equal to and less than hearsay so we'll pretend that's correct.
my name is help.
you won't forget me.
An Gorta - The HungerThe glassy, pungency of the bayMore Like This
Wept between the rushes
And the scrag of upturned sod.
Gulls and the jackdaw bordered,
And shrieked to his chipping
Of that weary, begotten dirt.
A tongue would wrench
And writhe just to choke out
The stench and that image.
The tawny flecks of skin,
The rolled, innocent crowns,
The bones, so distinct
He dug to spare them.
The reeds and rushes
Shushed along the curve of the strand.
The sea heaved back and forth.
Splash and dollop
Chimed from the foam
From the golden flick of a tail
And the happy sprint of red rubber soles.
Up! Up, to the rock pools!
No, make a castle with the sand!
Thwack! Pat it, and turn it. Quick!
Dig some more!
The heaving, wash of the sea.
The reeds and rushes wept.
He dug to spare them.
The bay will always bare them.
What's Best for the FamilyWhat's Best for the FamilyMore Like This
The yellow sunrise light soaring over the bleached bones of the Coliseum and the arched churches of Rome (many of the latter built with marble stripped from the former) illuminated recently-washed piazzas and opening trattorias across the city, dancing on the surface of the Tiber and not yet obscured by the smog of early morning traffic. The light reached even the cramped bedroom that Mirela shared with her younger brother Nicu, and for one brief moment the peeling ochre wallpaper shone like cathedral gold. But the glow faded as Mirela's eyes adjusted to the light. Nicu, exhausted from last night's expedition, groaned and rolled over on his pallet, pulling a worn blanket over his head. Mirela smiled at him as she swung out of bed, but her smile vanished when she stepped onto the stone floor--it must have been a damp night, because her knee buckled under her weight when she tried to stand. Biting her tongue so as not to