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Rat race, a poem
Everybody wants to be happy. To be happy is to be joyous, excited, filled with a sense of well-being and often with new hope for the future. It is a good feeling. But it is a feeling only, so we find ways to experience this feeling. Sex, drugs and rock and roll gets us through…
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Self, a poem
There is always a conversation in my head. Sometimes more than one. Often I hear my mother’s voice, other times that of my father. Mostly it is just me. I am always ready to call myself names, to diminish my achievements, to call myself fat and ugly, and even dumb. Deep down I know I…
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Life, a poem
Life is for the living. Who knows for sure, but it appears we get one shot at it. There might not be any do overs, or any reward once it is over. I saw a comic once where a doctor examines a very old and frail man and says ‘You remember how clean living added…