Good Tidings: Presented by Me, Myself, and I

Present-day you meets 10-years-ago you for coffee. Share with your younger self the most challenging thing, the most rewarding thing, and the most fun thing they have to look forward to.

Present me: Thanks for meeting me for coffee.

10-years ago me: I don’t drink coffee.

Present me: Oh yeah…well here try some.

10-years ago me: Sure why not, it’s not like you’re some stranger I’m meeting from the internet. *Sip* *Gag* Gross…why do people drink this?

Present me: Here add a little sugar and cream. Actually, let’s add some more sugar on top of that. What the hell, you’re gunna be fat soon enough anyway.

10-years ago me: What?

Present me: Nothing, nothing…

10-years ago me: Okay this tastes better.

Present me: Yes, yes. The sooner you fall prey the better…

10-years ago me: You’re kinda creepy you know.

Present me: Yeah, well, things happen.

10-years ago me: What kind of things?

Present me: What kind of things do you think?

10-years ago me: Isn’t it rude to answer a question with a question?

Present me: Isn’t that answering a question with a question?

10-years ago me: Touché.

Present me: Exactly, I’m older than you, which means I’m wittier, and thus better at being a smart-ass.

10-years ago me: *Rolls eyes*

Present me: *Rolls eyes back*

10-years ago me: *Groans* WTF.

Present me: Annoying huh?

10-years ago me: Yeah, yeah whatever…

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Sing me a Song of a Lad that is Gone

Sing me a Song of a Lad that is Gone
BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
Say, could that lad be I?
Merry of soul he sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye.

Mull was astern, Rum on the port,
Eigg on the starboard bow;
Glory of youth glowed in his soul;
Where is that glory now?

Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
Say, could that lad be I?
Merry of soul he sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye.

Give me again all that was there,
Give me the sun that shone!
Give me the eyes, give me the soul,
Give me the lad that’s gone!

Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
Say, could that lad be I?
Merry of soul he sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye.

Billow and breeze, islands and seas,
Mountains of rain and sun,
All that was good, all that was fair,
All that was me is gone.

Lash & Sword

Lash & Sword
By emschierbeek

Blood drawn by lash
Blood drawn by sword

Creation of a culture
History of a people
Founding of a nation

Blood drawn by bullet
Blood drawn by drone

Extermination of a culture
Desolation of a people
Crumbling of a nation

Blood drawn by madness
Blood drawn by man

Destiny of a culture
Shame of a people
Fate of a nation

Blood drawn by lash
Blood drawn by sword

View of Depression

View of Depression
By emschierbeek

framed by window
dead cold lost dark winter chill
grey outside life gone

Indifference

Indifference
By emschierbeek

I look into your eyes
But all I see is black
And you
What do you see
When you look into mine
Blue
Blue from the sorrow I feel for you
But you
With your black hating eyes
I will never allow you to belittle my soul by making me hate you
I know what you want
Because your hatred has turned your anger into fury and that into rage
But I am not like you
Soulless and dark
I know my boundaries
I know my place

Chai Is For Winter

Chai Is For Winter
By emschierbeek

Chai is for winter
Spice up the cold
Spice up the dark

Green is for spring
Welcome the bud
Welcome the renewal

White is for summer
Refresh the heat
Refresh the withered

Oolong is for autumn
Savor the color
Savor the contrast

Chai is for winter
Spice up the cold
Spice up the dark

Rain

BY EDWARD THOMAS

Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying tonight or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy
Helpless among the living and the dead,
Like a cold water among broken reeds,
Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,
Like me who have no love which this wild rain
Has not dissolved except the love of death,
If love it be towards what is perfect and
Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.