THOUGHTS ON THOUGHTS
JUST THINKING....
THINK TWICE by b. Malin
A child has a nightmare and cries out in his sleep, and everyone rushes forward to comfort him.
A man cries out in pain and despair of his life, and someone says, "Hush, Hush, you're making a Fool of yourself".
A child plays with his Toy Gun and everyone says how cute, BANG, BANG, he shouts.
A grown man aims his Real Gun and shoots another man Dead, and everyone is Horrified. How could it that happen they all wonder aloud.
A small child is given a powerful motor bike, because he's a boy, and boys love to ride fast. He sips a cold drink as he puts his foot to the pedal, and off he goes to the Cheers of his parents.
A young man has both his legs removed because the powerful, extra large cycle that he was riding went out of control as he went speeding down the highway, after a drink or two, that seemed like "No Big Deal" at the time.
A young child is told he Never does anything Right, and eventually as a grown man, he lives up to those Expectations.
One small boy grows up to be the President of the United States, while another small boy grows up to be an Assassin....Haven't you ever wondered why?
A young boy says, "let's play war until we get bored." A young man goes to war and later cries out, ENOUGH, ENOUGH!
A young child came and sat on my knee today and I hugged him to my breast until he slid down and ran across the room. He was back in a flash with a small blanket, his Comfort Blanket, that he wished to share with me.
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TO MY MORNING FRIENDS by b. Malin
Hey out there, please take pity. I'm not a morning person! It's a fact, so PLEASE make a note of that, and don't SING AND DANCE outside my window....especially over the weekend.
Did you know, I found this subject matter out, much to my HORROR, that the birds,well maybe I shouldn't blame all of them...Anyway, a FEW of our fine feathered friends actually start to SING AT FOUR-FIFTEEN IN THE MORNING, Sadistically at that, I might add.
I've tried in vain to understand why. Maybe they work in "Shifts." For I have a sneaking Suspicion that the Song Birds that sing at this UNGODLY HOUR, fly back to their nests by eight-fifteen, after grabbing a "quick worm" or two. Back in the nest once more, they probably wake up the SECOND SHIFT, so THEY can do their act, while the FIRST SHIFT goes back to bed, sleeping undisturbed till NOON!
I'll be honest with you, I can't take much more of THEIR ROUTINE....I'M EXHAUSTED! So tonight, I'm composing a LETTER TO THEM. It will read something like this.
Dear Birds, I love you all dearly, your "SINGINGS DEVINE", but could you do me a favor and don't SING before NINE...or better again, not before TEN. Then I'll sign it your neighbor and friend.
I'm a reasonable person. I'll give them a week to spread the word. But if this note fails to get the message across....Or their not willing to Negotiate, then I am going to put my Stereo SPEAKERS outside my window, turn up the Volume, and BLAST THEM OUT OF THIER DREAMS AND TREES! Sound a bit NASTY....GOOD! If this all fails, then I[m going to borrow my neighbors CAT, and let him go out to PLAY AT FOUR-FIFTEEN IN THE MORNING! I CAN BE A SADIST TOO.
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Week-ends go so fast....enjoy and leave the past behind for another time. b. Malin
