My son, whose brief but popular career as a nightclub comic, once told me that his formula for creating standup jokes was one he learned from others of his ilk. His method: make a ridiculous statement; then prove it. Hmmm;
I am not thinking of a white rhinoceros. I know this because I am saddled to an elephant hippety- hopping hither and yon. (If this isn’t funny perhaps it ‘s because I am not standing up. Try hippety hopping astride an elephant some time…or atop a white rhinoceros.)
Wet Crumbs
Photography
Sandra Schou
WORRY NOT ABOUT CRUMBS
Worry not about crumbs; they’ll become something new.
Fret not about loss. Nothing ever will be.
Worry not about Forever. You are living it.
Employ the vision of the inner eye.
What shall you change?
What must be altered?
Behold….
The Artist.
When opinions reek of danger and
Outlooks collide,
When bias hisses,
When judgment derides,
When prejudice misses
The mark,
It is the absence of “Hark”,
The dark temptation to seekers of Truth.
Alle heil der abend
As last light fails
And discourse galls
The light of Reason.
And feeds on
The mindless nod of
A thousand, million heads.
Shall we do this cries the headman
Sure; whatever.
And then arrives
An alternate view
To an optimistic few.
And a rosier future
Prevails.
As autumn brings a withering reminder
Of thoughtless, irretrievable syllables
This new Ship sails
To sites and sounds unknown.
A few have grown
And risen above the moan
Of grieving masses.
Life as must, moves on.
by Lee Broom
Worry not about crumbs; they’ll become something new.
Fret not about loss. Nothing ever will be.
Worry not about Forever. You are living it.
Employ the vision of the inner eye.
What shall you change?
What must be altered?
Behold….
The Artist.
Worry not about crumbs; they’ll become something new.
Fret not about loss. Nothing ever will be.
Worry not about Forever. You are living it.
Employ the vision of the inner eye.
What shall you change?
What must be altered?
Behold….
The Artist.
When opinions reek of danger and
Outlooks collide,
When bias hisses,
When judgment derides,
When prejudice misses
The mark,
It is the absence of “Hark”,
The dark temptation to seekers of Truth.
Alle heil der abend
As last light fails
And discourse galls
The light of Reason.
And feeds on
The mindless nod of
A thousand, million heads.
Shall we do this cries the headman
Sure; whatever.
And then arrives
An alternate view
To an optimistic few.
And a rosier future
Prevails.
As autumn brings a withering reminder
Of thoughtless, irretrievable syllables
This new Ship sails
To sites and sounds unknown.
A few have grown
And risen above the moan
Of grieving masses.
Life as must, moves on.
by Lee Broom
Crumbs 