Farming Season

The slow day by day grind will produce the most delicious fruits in time.

Gabriel Janas

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Greed Machine

A growing boy with a tortured soul, As he gets older the nights get cold, What made no sense as a child rings as truth as man, Human greed is responsible for suffering, Crack, heroine, ecstasy and alcohol has the people rolling in the gutter, Greed and the endless struggle for means has the people born to die. Barley living, from 2-10, a life of innocence,  Everything that comes after, all the suffering as the child grows, is the man's means to an end.  Welfare, dead end jobs, long days of labour as you grow sap the life from your soul,  watch your petals drop from the flower you were, stunting your growth and stealing your soul. Humanity withers under the glare of the corporate sun. Compassion for a fellow human being dies with the endless money dreams, addicted to your Benz, trips, fueling on artificial gasoline. A product of the machine,  a cycle of endless schemes to acquire monetary means,  chasing the cash and wealth,  never realizing you're chasing the wrong green. ...
Read more

Assignement 1-Sketch- A LightHouse in the Sea of Sludge

An assignment for my writing class. Write a short sketch of 400-500 words about an unusual place from your imagination or real life.                  In every city around the world, there is always one place amidst the grunge and decay of societies more immoral tendencies that stands like a lighthouse, whose illumination for all who witness it, is seen in the place's potential for the resurrection of decency and fellowship of the human spirit.  In the city of Edmonton, the place that I call home, I have found my own lighthouse in the sea of sludge.  The place that I am referring to is called Habesha Cuisine.  Located on an avenue made infamous for being a daily haunt of prostitutes looking to scratch a living off the services of their worn out bodies, a place where drugs are exchanged openly in various bars and alley ways as if they were food, bought and bartered for in a local bazaar of old...
Read more

Perhaps we'll never understand each other.....

Perhaps we'll never understand each other. Loving doesn't mean that we agree. If that were so, then I would say, why bother? But there are things I know I'll never see. I'm sure your heart knows what I don't yet know: The pain of loving a reluctant son; The anger, coming fast and building slow, Of being helpless to control someone. You want only that I grow up right, But you know what right is, and I still don't. I have to learn to wield my inner light, And if I follow yours, well, then I won't. I'm sorry for the anger in the air; Though we fight, my love is always there.
Read more