h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

How to describe a hole in one self, black hole it is not
This one is empty ness ,a space big enough to contains
All the spaces between the gorges in death canyon ,
Not forgetting those between the sands shifting about
In its bowels , that feeling inside that’s out of phase
With the rest of the world, its jut not part of it any more.
Part of it is just not the part that interested ,so where has
The emptiness come from, somewhere else another hole
Or empty feeling has just been filled, must be ,
But who has got that Longing ,that lingering feeling ,
haunting in its ethereal presence of This present absence
makes no sense at all, is it .The space being cleared
So that all hell can come rushing in , then we carry on like nothing happened

The last days ,having wandered wondering how marked the path remarked I
Have many times been guided ,led by flickering shadows ,going gone. vanished
Vanquished To long thinking , in escapable …
is far more capable of freeing thoughts unkind. We find we can always see in
Others what we need to see in ourselves ,

The kind that longed for remembrance, unseen glances , lances , nerves optic,
Enthused we resume the journey , swan songs belong , alone to , the familiar few
Who knew from their first steps, enthralled to crawl ,investigate ,communicate
Open gate to mystery would ,tantalise , realize this remission is not permission
From the past , or even this future stars ,caste past , is foretold yet to come to fruition

Expectations like that can be achievable, believable as they happen , perchance
Chances are predictable , detectable attachments , unattached detachment acting

oi Logicus,
I realize these are your musings, I hope you don't mind I read them.

I hope you don't mind I read them
its partly what they are here for, plus easier than saveing to file.
also nice in six or so months rediscovering some

Well my dear Logicus
it seems that your thoughts are on a crookedy parallel with mine; crookedy because they go on for a long way without meeting and then sometimes bump! Your musings have inspired me to write; but I don't want to be like a heron that flies over the still pond of your thoughts and carries away hapless frogs to another land!
It feels sometimes to me (even though you didn't ask) that emptiness is at the very center of my breath, and that the little bellows will keep on respiring in despite my inattention...
but then from whence desire, someone on the side?
At any rate, you are a fount of inspiration (among other things)
and I hope my sips don't disturb you. Here have some tea.

We count our blessings rarely ,Countenances tempted ,we count instead ,hurt feelings,
Revealing far more than The kind longed for remembrance, perchance
Faces ,from places unseen by eyes yet memories from those lines ,
we read, Between the stanzas, unseen glimpses , lances , nerves optic,
Feelings more disturbed ,than disparate there portrayed ,in these words


Enthused we resume the journey, swan songs belong ,alone to the familiar few Who knew from their first steps, enthralled to crawl investigate, then communicate . A mission life long to be long to open gates to mystery, would tantalise , or as you say fantasise ,escape a task like this rarely lasts ,long

Realize this remission is not permission From the past , or even this future stars ,caste past , is foretold yet to come to pass ,

Expectations like that can be achievable, believable as they happen , perchance
Chances are predictable , detectable attachments , unattached detachment acting

Believable like this
like jazz
late at night when we're all alone
deft a pathway struck
yeah not iambic nor pentameter
no metres running, just the cruise
wary is chary
how like a thrice frightened cat
learns with the whiskers
like a ninja
yeah like that
just more sensitive, not magic
(well maybe yeah, just in case)
fondly do lack
and wander cross the keys in our pockets
where does this go to, I cannae remember.
Just jazz for you, to linger in
throw the bargain in, the bin
the apple bin, or the coal skuttle,
the wheelbarrow full, dim Simon the Pieman, go ahed and crawl in,
mate,
it's a cheery state, we're in
(sung to Miles Davis for you)

Very poinant. A good assessment as well I hava a hole of simular size and depth. With about the same emptyness. Almost impossible to fathom.

Kid,
I thought I left a post here
go mark twain.
Who is feeling empty
someone full of it
don't ponder, you can sink a plumb bob in
and you won't measure the depth,
only maybe learn to swim eh?
Respectully,
Andmymare

Oookay