CONTACTS 09.01.2017 A


More contacts.

Harsh Reality wrote that like my comment on “Life.” And, I did and do like it. Harsh Reality is also known as Opinion Man. He is someone who really puts a lot of thought into what he is writing and has a huge following.

Life

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MakeItUltra is another site worth visiting. The author speaks on therapy, narcissism, and narcissistic abuse. That can be found at https://makeitultrapsychology.wordpress.com/2017/08/10/5-signs-you-havent-fully-healed-from-narcissistic-abuse/

There he  offers 5 signs about narcissistic abuse. Very interesting.

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Man of Many Thoughts is another that I have commented on and is well worth a journey to his blog to see what he is writing about. Guaranteed he can set up a scenario  that will generate a lot conversations. https://keithgarrettpoetry.com/2017/08/18/dismantling-of-america/

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Then there is this delightful blog BlueFishh. The author welcomes you warmly and explains what she is all about in a few simple paragraphs. The blog used to be call Economix.

https://bluefishh.wordpress.com/about/?blogsub=confirming#blog_subscription-3

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If I could… (Friday Night Poetry Corner #142)

You have to visit this location. Seriously. The art work is interesting in itself, a bit confusing at first, but draws the artist/poet/searchers/etc (etc is a pretty big area) right in. So go, read.

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Lakshmi Padmanaban is an Indian girl who …. well, you can read about her at

https://thethoughtfulrants.wordpress.com/about/

if I tell you anything it will spoil the adventure of going and reading her blog. So, go, now. Just do it.

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jade0207  ah, this one is an area for ladies.

https://being1nsane.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/why-we-desperately-need-girl-friendships-in-todays-times/

164 bloggers like that page!!!!!!

Personally I have always had more girl relationships than male relationships. I guess I just like women more than men and, as far as my mom and dad were concerned, that was and is a good thing.  Women are just so incredible, love everyone I ever met.

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Later more on Delmer Smith and the victims whose blood he shed.

 

 

 

 

a simple poem and random remarks 2033/08/11/17


I Am On Fire

Gordon Kuhn Copyright 8.11.2017

Within the skull born of female pain
He lashed out at the days but could not steal the stain
That in treasured measure laid its curling tone
Upon the printer’s inked plate during winter’s dying moan
He never thought the deeds quite through each day
While death visited his youth upon its way
Ripping out the contour of his life
Leaving behind the refuse of his strife.
His guilt real or imagined lay deep about his feet
No peace shall he ever through conscience release ever greet
While in the lonely closing of his days
Boxed in, surrounded by a killing maze.

A Sunday Night Poem: Passages along with random thoughts about nothing important 2248/080617


The Peppermint Lounge, Montego Bay, 1962
By Gordon Kuhn copyright 08.06.2017
all rights reserved.

There once was a whore house in Montego Bay
Where $2 bought a pitcher of beer and 5 got you a lay
There bronze skinned ladies with loose dresses would sway
with the music until the break of day
Never letting the customers stray too far away
Ah, the booze was cheap and the ladies kept their smiles
And we never once shared our private trials
But laughed and danced and drank the night away
Until dawns’ light broke the fragile spell
When we went back to the ships with memories to tell
Our youthful hunger for rowdy times and cheap romance sated
To the ships where our rifles and ammo near our packs silently waited.

Clouds in your Eyes & Random Thoughts 0821/8.5.17


Clouds in Your Eyes

by Gordon Kuhn Copyright 8.5.17 all rights reserved

I see clouds in your eyes, clouds in your eyes
Clouds where none should ever be
Like murky cream in your cold cup of coffee there
I see clouds in your eyes, clouds in your eyes
Clouds that should never be there
And I think there is even a tear, a small tear hiding there
There where none should also never be.

It was just a chance thing meeting up with you
Years back at a truck stop late one rainy night
No reason for that to ever happen, never
Unplanned event and unplanned conversation
Unless fate was there with me and you
For truly you showed up out of the blue
And sat and told me lies while you drank coffee with me
Just like we used to do, like we used to do
And sat and told me lies while we drank cold coffee together
Just like we used to do when we smiled at each other
And nowhere did I think I’d ever again see that smile
That smile that was also so quick and free.

But I see clouds in your eyes, clouds there in your eyes
The same as when a friend once set you free
But that was a long time back to then
When life had set us all in a tragic spin
And you fell from a relationship that brought tears to your eyes
And I hoped that none would ever again be there for anyone to see

I know you are with another
A friend who was once like a brother
But no where in the world did I ever expect
to have our friendship end in pure neglect

But I see the clouds in your eyes
Where none should ever be
I see clouds in your eyes
And I think I see a tear
Where none should also never be
In a truck stop so very long ago

And I would have stood and hugged you long and hard
But the distance between us more that I could reach past
And so I just let it be with a handshake and a “I gotta go.”
So I will go and let the past be the past and hope the feeling inside will last
But there were clouds in your eyes, clouds in you eyes
And a very tiny tear.

Beer Cans on the Counter and Random Thoughts at 0436 08.03.17


Just woke and fixed a salad made up of cucumber, sweet onion, tomato, and Caesar dressing. Love it. Thinking of writing a play. Wish I had the talent. Don’t think that I do. In the meantime I look at my family history and think of all the rich material there and believe it is sad to let the story not be told. I look at life and see mistakes, countless mistakes, and a tragedy that should never have occurred and wonder just how to handle it. I wonder if it should be told and does it really matter. I don’t know. Really. I don’t know. I just see this pile of shit (can I say that?) and wonder about it all. I wonder who would it matter to except for myself?

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Once
a poem by Gordon Kuhn Copyright 08.03.17

I was young once and lived all alone.
Each night I sat drunk in the dark
And listened to the neighbors fighting down the street
He said, she said, oh who gives a royal fuck.

My nightly dinner a plate of fresh boiled spaghetti,
The sauce a greasy mix of fried bacon with sweet onion
My drink a tepid six pack of cheap bought beer
The couch before the tv was my throne
And drunk I had not a drop of respectability
As I staggered about in my individuality
Inside the one bedroom apartment
Lost in a world without companionship
Lost without counsel, without guidance
And faced life confused and all alone.

Beer cans setting on the counter
One rolled up under the recliner rocker
Neighbors fighting down the street
He said, she said, oh who gives a fuck
Simply leave me alone, all alone
Its how I want to live, all alone
Being young once and eating a dinner of spaghetti
Its sauce fried bacon and onion on top a greasy mix
Washed down by a six pack of Old Milwaukee
I could not afford a better fare.

Beer cans setting on the counter
My body asleep on the floor
Alcoholism was the bed time Teddy Bear
Beside the bed near the door
Where I could see the beer can under the rocker
The neighbors screaming, fighting down the street
He said, she said, oh who gives a fuck.

Beer cans setting on the counter
The neighbors fighting down the street
He said, she said, oh who really gives a fuck.

Poem Dismantled by Love & Random Thoughts 8.2.17


Dismantled by Love

By Gordon Kuhn Copyright 1/9/2017

She came softly
Easily to his bed was led
And he found himself—suddenly dismantled
Unexpected the world spinning about his head
As if enjoying a first time cup of rich Turkish Coffee
Followed by a sip of mint liqueur that was fed
From the tip of his lover’s tongue warm red
That sought his mouth out amid a smile of rapture deep
To share as did they while the world disappeared forgotten
While within tousled sheets the pair gamboled
And he surrendered to her charms thus, so gently wed.              1/9/2017

The agony of love touches one and all in our lives here. Perhaps that is what God was thinking at the separation of man from the eternal flame and that is what we most seek in a variety of ways. We were once united in a whole framework but chose to be separate and distinct and now we are facing the dissimilarities brought upon by that determination to experience emotions as one single voice. It makes me think of the concept of the Borg. All thoughts together, linked as one, and now  we are separate. Like with the Borg, perhaps in the end resistance is futile, but right now what I want is a cheeseburger and fries. Fries! I cannot find any good fries anymore unless I go to McDonalds. And that is a fact. GK 1327/08.02.17