     
Steve
Enough/male/NYC
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Last Login: | 3946 d | |
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Journals: | 11 | |
Writings: | 39 | |
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 Untitled Entry
Mood: The Usual
Posted on 2011-10-10 11:59:05
I'm Back! But where is everyone else? Most of my old writing buddies are gone only a few remain. I myself have not been here since about '06. In '05 I suddenly got the writing bug and experimented with poetry. Then as suddenly as she came, my muse left. I'm not sure she is back - she may have just sent a brief text. We'll see.
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Untitled Entry
Mood: The Usual
Posted on 2006-01-30 21:05:27
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WORST VIRUS EV
Mood: The Usual
Posted on 2006-01-16 08:04:50
PLEASE SEND THIS TO EVERYONE ON YOUR CONTACT LIST !!
A new virus has just been discovered that has been classified by Microsoft as the most destructive ever. This virus was discovered yesterday afternoon by McAfee and no vaccine has yet been developed. This virus simply destroys Sector Zero from the hard disk, where vital information for its functioning are stored.
This virus acts in the following manner:
It sends itself automatically to all contacts on your list with the title:
"A Card for You".
As soon as the supposed virtual card is opened the computer freezes that the user has to reboot. When the ctrl+alt+delkeys or the reset button are pressed, the virus destroys Sector Zero, thus permanently destroying
the hard disk. Yesterday in just a few hours this virus caused panic in New York, according to news broadcast by CNN. This alert was received by an employee of Microsoft itself. So don't open any mails with subject: "A Virtual Card for You." As soon as you get the mail, delete it!! Even if you know the sender !!!
Please! Pass this mail to all of your friends.
Forward this to everyone in your address book. I'm sure most people, like myself, would rather receive this notice 25 times than not at All!! 
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Untitled Entry
Mood: Relaxing
Posted on 2006-01-10 23:12:42
Happy New Year!!!
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One Solitary L
Mood: The Usual
Posted on 2005-12-21 18:03:49
Merry Christmas Everyone!!!
One Solitary Life
He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman.
He was raised in another obscure village, where he worked in a carpenter shop until He was thirty.
Then for three years, He was an itinerant preacher.
He never wrote a book,
He never held an office.
He never had a family or owned a home.
He never visited a big city.
He never traveled two hundred miles from the place where he was born.
He did none of the things that accompany greatness.
While still a young man, the tide of public opinion turned against Him.
His friends deserted him.
He was turned over to His enemies
And went through the mockery of a trial.
He was nailed to a cross between two thieves.
While He was dying, his executioners gambled for the only property He owned,
His robe.
When He was dead, he was taken down and laid in a borrowed grave through the pity of a friend.
Twenty centuries have come and gone,
And today He is the central figure for much of the human race.
And all the armies that have ever marched,
All the navies that have ever sailed,
All the parliaments that have ever sat,
All the kings that have ever reigned put together,
Have not affected the life of man on this Earth as much as this.....
One Solitary Life.
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Christmas
Mood: The Usual
Posted on 2005-12-16 17:44:19
This is the time of year that many of us reflect on our lives and our world. It can often be quite disturbing, more so, when so much of the conflict, deaths and devastation is carried out in the name of God.
In this country there is a great threat from the religious right who under the Bush Administration have created a silent or defacto Theocracy! Science is under attack through "creationism" and "Intelligent Design".
The major religions in the world keep the letter but have lost their spirituallity.
I therefore, offer this poem, which for me is what God, Budda, Allah and of course Jesus is all about!!
ABOU Ben Adhem
Leigh Hunt
Abou Ben Adhem (May his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich like a Lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said’
“What writest thou?” The vision raised its head,
And, with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, “The names of those who love the lord.”
“And is mine one?” said Abou. “Nay, not so,”
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
Bur cheerily still; and said “I pray thee, then
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.”
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again, with a great wakening light.
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,-
And, Lo! Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest!
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Untitled Entry
Mood: Stressed
Posted on 2005-10-14 19:16:59
I've been a bit out of it lately. Working on a professional presentation that's got me stressed out. Hate public speaking! So haven't had time to be on the site.
So to those who know me and who I visit and who are kind enough to visit me, my apologies for my absence. I'll hopefully be back soon!
Love,
Steve
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Untitled Entry
Mood: The Usual
Posted on 2005-09-18 21:26:48
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New Orleans
Mood: Sad
Posted on 2005-09-04 15:42:02
Recent events brought this song to mind Sung by Arlo Gutherie. I wanted to place a link here to the song so anyone interested could hear it. Don't know how!
Everytime I sing along with this song, I can' help but sing " Good morning America I love you!"
Riding On the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central Monday morning rail
Fifteen Cars and fifteen restless riders
Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail
All along the south bound odyssey
The train pulls out its’ cacophony
Rolls along past homes, farms and fields
Passing trains that have no name,
Frieghtyards full of old black men
And graveyards of the rusted automobile
Good morning America, how are ya?
Don’t you know me; I’m your native son
I’m the train they call The City of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when day is done
Dealing cards games with the old men in the club car
Penny a point ain’t no one keeping score
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumbling ‘neath the floor
And the sons of Pullman porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their fathers’ magic carpets made of steel
Mothers with their babes asleep
Rocking to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they hear
Good morning America, how are ya?
Don’t you know me; I’m your native son
I’m the train they call The City of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when day is done
Nighttime on The City of New Orleans
Changing cars in Memphis Tennessee
Half way home, we’ll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness
Rolling down to the sea
But all the Towns and people seem
To fade into a bad dream
And the steel rail still ain’t heard the news
The conductor sings his songs again
“The passengers will please refrain
This trains got the disappearing railroad blues”
Goodnight America, how are ya
Don’t you know me I’m your native son
I’m the train they call The City of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when day is done
Let us all pray that New Orleans doesn’t have the disappearing city blues!!
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Newe Orleans
Mood: Sad
Posted on 2005-09-04 08:29:25
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