Ultimatentertainer's Paradise

当所有如果, 都没有如果

ultimatentertainer — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 11:11:04 +0000

也许我们当时年纪真的太小
从那懵懵懂懂走进各自天空
该怎么说让彼此选择
但思念还转动

不能握的手
从此匿名的朋友
其实我的执着依然执着
与你无关泪自行吸收

不能握的手
却比亲人更亲厚
但所有如果
都没有如果
只有失去的温柔
最温柔

ultimatentertainer — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 12:08:04 +0000

Someone to have and hold
With all my heart and soul
I need to know, before I fall in love
Someone who’ll stay around
Through all my ups and downs
Please tell me now, before I fall in love

Protected: letters by his bed, dated 1962

ultimatentertainer — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 14:16:34 +0000

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Leave the memories alone

ultimatentertainer — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 14:45:27 +0000

The way it is, as to how it used to be
Leave the memories alone, don’t change a thing
And I’ll hold you here in my memory

So I find me in your garden now
A sad smile for the scene
And all the flowers that we planted now
Taken by the weeds
But in my minds eye, you know they still bloom for me
They stand tall there, in that summer breeze

motivation!

ultimatentertainer — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 22:26:59 +0000

Everyone is motivated a little or a lot to do something or nothing. Motivation is the internalized drive toward the dominant thought of the moment. By definition, motivation is “motive in action.” -DenisWaitley

Attitude

THE MAN WHO THINKS HE CAN: If you think you are beaten, you are, If you think that you dare not, you don’t, If you’d like to win, but you think you can’t, It’s almost certain you won’t. If you think you’ll lose, you’ve lost, For out in the world you’ll find, Success begins with a fellow’s will, It’s all in the state of mind. If you think you are outclassed, you are, You’ve got to think high to rise, You’ve got to be sure of yourself before You can ever win a prize. Life’s battles don’t always go To the stronger or faster man, But soon or late the man who wins Is the man who thinks he can. -Arnold Palmer

ultimatentertainer — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 06:15:14 +0000

I said hello but you just stared at me with dead eyes, shook my hand with what seemed like severe reluctance, muffled a response and walked on.

ultimatentertainer — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 01:05:22 +0000

my daddy said, stay away from Juliet

Getting Real About the High Price of Cheap Food

ultimatentertainer — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 13:59:50 +0000

Somewhere in Iowa, a pig is being raised in a confined pen, packed in so tightly with other swine that their curly tails have been chopped off so they won’t bite one another. To prevent him from getting sick in such close quarters, he is dosed with antibiotics. The waste produced by the pig and his thousands of pen mates on the factory farm where they live goes into manure lagoons that blanket neighboring communities with air pollution and a stomach-churning stench. He’s fed on American corn that was grown with the help of government subsidies and millions of tons of chemical fertilizer. When the pig is slaughtered, at about 5 months of age, he’ll become sausage or bacon that will sell cheap, feeding an American addiction to meat that has contributed to an obesity epidemic currently afflicting more than two-thirds of the population. And when the rains come, the excess fertilizer that coaxed so much corn from the ground will be washed into the Mississippi River and down into the Gulf of Mexico, where it will help kill fish for miles and miles around. That’s the state of your bacon — circa 2009.

Source: http://www.time.com/time/health/article/0,8599,1917458,00.html

Protected: lalala

ultimatentertainer — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 16:12:54 +0000

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Seek Not My Heart

ultimatentertainer — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 12:04:57 +0000

Seek Not My Heart by Kit McCallum

Oh gentle winds ‘neath moonlit skies,
Do not you hear my heartfelt cries?

Below the branches, here about,
Do not you sense my fear and doubt?
Side glistening rivers, sparkling streams,
Do not you hear my woeful screams?

Upon the meadows, touched with dew,
Do not you see my hearts a’skew?
Beneath the thousand twinkling stars,
Do not you feel my jagged scars?

Seek not my mournful heart kind breeze,
For you’ll not find it ‘mongst these trees.

It’s scattered ‘cross the moonlit skies,
Accompanied by heartfelt sighs.
It’s drifting o’re the gentle rain,
A symbol of my silent pain.

It’s buried ‘neath the meadow fair,
Conjoined with all the sorrow there.
It’s lost among the stars this night,
Too far to ease my quiet fright.

No gentle winds, seek not my heart,
For simply … it has torn apart.