11 Monday Jun 2012
Posted in Random
Tags
affection, emotion, expectation, heart, individuality, love, soul
What are these preordained notions of affection? And where do the expectations of particular expressions originate? @
Truly, it is fundamental humanness, this love thing, it is always there, and as individual as the individual. @
I say, who are you to say, or who are they? I am my soul, I am my interpreter. @
11 Friday May 2012
Tags
choice, control, denial, heart, identity, liberty, nanny, politics, prayer, proof, revolution, scheme, success, triumph, turds
If you are so inclined, please pray… He will know why. Thanks.
I can control a thousand random outcomes in each of the daily lives of 300 million individuals. Who am I? (hint: I’m expensive) @
Ours is not a revolution… but a quelling of one. @
Liberty is never having to say you are free. @
I think it’s becoming Popular again to be fundamentally American. So Go and be COOL! @
Every once in a while, we are forced to identify ourselves, to define our hearts, and align. Now is good. @
Politics, it’s basically turd sales, varying lump sizes, & we always get more than we bought, & it costs us more than we thought… flush @
If you hate your country, and see progress as undoing Her founding principles, then maybe you should move. Progressives, Occupy movement: We’re not listening! @
We know that our founding principles work… because they already have. Sell your scheme somewhere else. @
Note: The preceding random musings are mine. ~tdv (@subconch) The @ symbols take you to the specific quotes on twitter if you care to RT, Favorite, or Reply.
19 Monday Mar 2012
Posted in Random
Sacrifice, born of will, is beauty marked on the heart of men, where it abide, and she be derived from the soul, our beautiful founder. Beauty in sacrifice, driven by love, bears its own recompense, and without seeking, bounty resides.
Will, heart, and soul, are the character of sacrifice, and name her true deed beautiful, and set her apart from the coercive, who’s name in bondage.
~tdv
26 Sunday Feb 2012
Posted in Abstract
Thing in heart, flushing, rushing, hiding its frightening abstract of dynamic timelessness, it shall and will be brought on. Words, words, oh shut them without, cannot be under words, have it now the fore, so there is a bit left in till.
Mynd the focality, drag up the more, if it, if it, have not tyme to fair it out. The heart, wound not by sinew, bound so by endless reachings, available forethoughts, giving abouts the tymeless even.
Drag it up the more, man, for contagion, tis glorious the instant, the flowings between spirit and the solitude, ought the ought fro.
Thy visual taste its presence, draw it forth the bit, and recognize the somethings of naught.
~tdv
