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B: How Wonderous is your poem here Peter. A true statement of that

ephemeral something in nothing that tears at our heartstrings and

plunders them unto death and song.OLO...LOL...OLO!! See! The blubird

of eternal happy-happy sings nice-nice to the mockingbird. Sitting

higher and lower and actually not sitting at all, he bellows a most

sweeter tuner than all other scavengers. Above and Below and even

inbetween'em times: Love lOve loVe lovE LOVE......you said it not I.

You...You...You..You sweet little girl!!!!!!!

 

P.S. Save The Last Dance For Me @ promenade.And sweetie..I don't

care if it's a square dance, we'll make it a circle of FIRE and WIND

and rain and snow and sleet and unbearable sticky humid heat.

 

P.P.S. About the kid you carry in your lugubrious loins: I always

used safe sex so you know it's not mine. Good luck with your little

bastard though.

xxxxxxxx

 

P: Sorry, Bobby, my poem wasn't

about you. You're not loving, Bob.

You're too insecure to love, too

quick to take offense, too slow to

let grudges go. You go ballistic at

the push of a button. A tougher skin

you need, balloon Bob, so you don't

go pop with every little prick.

 

 

 

 

 

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Nisargadatta , Pete S <pedsie5 wrote:

>

> B: How Wonderous is your poem here Peter. A true statement of that

> ephemeral something in nothing that tears at our heartstrings and

> plunders them unto death and song.OLO...LOL...OLO!! See! The blubird

> of eternal happy-happy sings nice-nice to the mockingbird. Sitting

> higher and lower and actually not sitting at all, he bellows a most

> sweeter tuner than all other scavengers. Above and Below and even

> inbetween'em times: Love lOve loVe lovE LOVE......you said it not I.

> You...You...You..You sweet little girl!!!!!!!

>

> P.S. Save The Last Dance For Me @ promenade.And sweetie..I don't

> care if it's a square dance, we'll make it a circle of FIRE and WIND

> and rain and snow and sleet and unbearable sticky humid heat.

>

> P.P.S. About the kid you carry in your lugubrious loins: I always

> used safe sex so you know it's not mine. Good luck with your little

> bastard though.

> xxxxxxxx

>

> P: Sorry, Bobby, my poem wasn't

> about you. You're not loving, Bob.

> You're too insecure to love, too

> quick to take offense, too slow to

> let grudges go. You go ballistic at

> the push of a button. A tougher skin

> you need, balloon Bob, so you don't

> go pop with every little prick.

 

 

Gee Whilikers Pete! There you go again with that sarcastic comeback

to some perceived threat to your personal space. I know that your

poem wasn't about me kiddo. I wasn't taking offense at all. Seems

that you have though. And that's too bad because I was just trying to

have a laugh WITH you, not AT you. I'm well aware what you were

refering to in your posted poem. I understood your veiled reference.

When first replying, I was going to just say, " I like your poem

Pete " , but I thought.let's go for a few more laughs..so the post went

as it went. " Turn away from me Satan " ...JC's words to Peter..maybe

fitting here. I know you can take it with your skin of leather. So

have a chuckle pal. Relax. Enjoy the game and cut the crap.You like

talking about peoples projections of their own shortcomings on

others. Have a close, close look at your patterns of behaviour

friend. You are the projectionist here and you are the one who seems

to carry some sort of grudge. I don't. Hell, I enjoy the sparring

until it falls to the levels you sometimes reach for. How's YOUR

mother Pete. I'm beginning to think she has a lot to answer for in

bringing you here. hehehehehe :-)))

.......bob

P.S. Try not to pop your top this time prick...whoops..I mean WITH a

prick. Love you boy even if I'm unloving and unlovable in your eyes.

I believe that's just a problem you have with seeing more than one

thing, or anything, beyond youself, at any one time. Larry gives

consultations for clients so you may get some help there too. Just

trying to be helpful Pete..be nice nice now.

(bn)

 

 

>

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Nisargadatta , Pete S <pedsie5 wrote:

>

> B: How Wonderous is your poem here Peter. A true statement of that

> ephemeral something in nothing that tears at our heartstrings and

> plunders them unto death and song.OLO...LOL...OLO!! See! The blubird

> of eternal happy-happy sings nice-nice to the mockingbird. Sitting

> higher and lower and actually not sitting at all, he bellows a most

> sweeter tuner than all other scavengers. Above and Below and even

> inbetween'em times: Love lOve loVe lovE LOVE......you said it not I.

> You...You...You..You sweet little girl!!!!!!!

>

> P.S. Save The Last Dance For Me @ promenade.And sweetie..I don't

> care if it's a square dance, we'll make it a circle of FIRE and WIND

> and rain and snow and sleet and unbearable sticky humid heat.

>

> P.P.S. About the kid you carry in your lugubrious loins: I always

> used safe sex so you know it's not mine. Good luck with your little

> bastard though.

> xxxxxxxx

>

> P: Sorry, Bobby, my poem wasn't

> about you. You're not loving, Bob.

> You're too insecure to love, too

> quick to take offense, too slow to

> let grudges go. You go ballistic at

> the push of a button. A tougher skin

> you need, balloon Bob, so you don't

> go pop with every little prick.

 

 

You´re projecting.

Your self knowledge seems pretty accurate, now just realize that when

you talk about Bob you in fact talk about yourself.

You don´t need tougher sking though, just let the air out ;-)

 

Len

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