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So let's get on with it. We must put the case for Brexit anew. We must take nothing for granted. It doesn't matter what we do with the money. We can put it in the NHS or buy pink elephants with it. The point is it's hard working British peoples' money and it should be spent on them. The EU is not democratic. The people who run it are oligarchical despots - and not benevolent ones either. Paying all this money for "free trade" - what a contradiction in terms! And who benefits? Not the ordinary people who stump up the cash! And why, for this "free trade" do we have to let Brussels/ Strasbourg (EU have two Parliaments) make 59% of our laws? How does that work? Well, it doesn't. We only rubber stamp their commands in our Parliament. We are vassals and our Parliament is a puppet EU...
Friendship It is a treasure Hard to find, Friendship is life That embraces us. Friendship is sunshine On the sky Friendship is peace Serenity around us- Friendship is being kind. Friendship is music from the heart. A friend is like a sun and the starry sky at night. Friend is indeed very special to us. I do treasure yours...FOREVER. © 2008 Zuzanna
He was living far away, thinking of her every day, however, the distance was separating them-they were not able to see each other every day. His heart longing for the love she was always in his thoughts only letters that he wrote saying...I love you Put a smile on her face. She was a queen in his eyes and in his dreams too. Someone very special, He loved her dearly they...
The dandelions live on, in spite of their reputation. They thrive unaware of their human categorization as "weeds." They exist, as flowers, ignorant to the judgment of the world. These, the untamed daisy, overcome the turbulent natural society with a blazing resilience, like a king in battle. They never learned to equate beauty with the fragile order of the...
The world sits near me in the mind of Jen. Through songs and stories she carries nations. Trains of this wisdom use my ears as stations; Passing voice, mouth, mind, to ultimate pen. Yet, futile to transcribe her globes to men; This writing becomes my lamentation. Conveying her wit creates frustrations: What I write forms not her nations again. Therefore, look not to me for planets...
Something is wrong. I look out this window at the black-shrouded grid-work blinking below. Oh, God, I am so small. No, now too big! I exist too much. No, not at all. Fatalistic, nihilistic, pessimistic, masochistic, sadistic. There is no end to my knotted self. But the beginning is even less defined. Dotted line. Untraceable. No comforts now in fuzzy thoughts holding...
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