Musings and Prose of Greg Gough

An opportunity to experience my world

Archive for August, 2008

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall

Posted by ggough56 on August 28, 2008

It was a dialog that began and has now found itself in frozen-ground-swell…..

i know that u treted me the best u culd

I’m not so sure that you’re understanding what I’m saying

i know thengs r difecult, but i want to try

What I’ve been saying is that putting yourself into try is key

it dusent seem fare that it hapend agen

Don’t take what you see and make your own context, see what context it is found within

i no that it is difrent and hard to cumunikate

It seems as though we talk different dialects of the same language, I agree

i dont no why they wont apolgy to me

We can’t always know why things happen the way we don’t want them to

she ters me apart inside and i cant stop her duing it

If you’d only awake to see what you have and not what you’ve lost, please?

it wont, u wont and i only ned to be by myself

Why do you let her continue to trash you?  Why have you taken the job on yourself now?

if ur going 2 b twisten things so that u can feel good then im not intristed

Why do you create your illusion of manipulation?  Even when she’s not with you, you’re with her.

i dont fel that its evun safe animore, not 4 me, not 4 her, there is no room 4 u

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Speaking of loaded language

Posted by ggough56 on August 17, 2008

I have come to loathe being the scapegoat for what others are unwilling to deal with in their own emotional world.  It’s endless banter about being right or saving face when neither is being done.  I suppose I’m reminded of this because of the conversations I often entertain.  The level is often astute to me when I’m talking about one thing and that conversation is interrupted for another immediate, emotional conversation.

I have come to learn that those who appreciate literature can live in two camps, one in which they desire to empower and one in which they desire to squash.  We must know what is being said in our way of understanding.  It comes from one and is delivered to another, in a package, prewrapped, possibly unassembled.

The problem with emotional banter is that it’s uniquely unproductive.  It doesn’t communicate effectively or with prowess.  It only dictates that one’s emotional state is such that they ought be treated to suit their fancies.  I find that many individuals do not seek beyond banter and offense, but seek to coddle banter and offense.

All of what I shared can’t be understood within the context of literacy, but must be understood in a realm where you stand between meaning and understanding.  It’s fluid, not slapping against the rocks in the same fashion each time.  You shout, “It’s unpredictable and incontinent”.  I shout, “It’s beautiful and mysterious”.  Some of us cannot live in the mystery of life.

My life takes accusation after accusation, befuddling any context of health for my future.  Befuddling the “I am” of “me”.

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