Archive for September 28, 2011


Your Stars – according to Ralphie!


Libra:

Lib(e)rating stuff without people´s consent, is not a done thing! If you want to win the lottery, you should buy a ticket(it helps!).

Scorpio:

Don´t forget to put on sun cream, when you´re in the desert! Sting made some nice music, but stop waving that thing at me or I´ll call the Police!

Sagittarius:

If unemployed, try Cupid. He needs a hand! Where were you, when General Custer needed you?

Capricorn:

I´m tired of being the butt of your jokes! They eat it ´on the cob´ in that isle!

Aquarius:

Stop hogging the bathroom! Are you homeless? Get an aquarium!

Pisces:

Clean out your bowl. It´s a mess! Doesn´t it feel like your swimming around in circles?
Alright. you are exempt from eating fish on Good Friday!

Aries:

Get off that mountaintop and socialise! Temper, temper! Love is good, love is nice!

Taurus:

Red does not become you! And don´t think that the grass is always greener on the other side!

Gemini:

I sense a duality about you! But you´re both jewels(mini ones but nice!).

Cancer:

You do grow on people. Leave it out! The Little Mermaid needs help!

Leo:

You may call yourself King of the Jungle, but you’re a teddy bear! Ever heard of equal rights? Stop letting the females do all the work!

Virgo:

Look up Aries, convince him to stop making war and…???! ´Those´ crisps are really yummy! No love in your tummy yet?

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Present from Lieven 27.


Children in Jerusalem.

Image via Wikipedia

Lieven Grillaert

  • Come to me, O ye children!
    For I hear you at your play,
    And the questions that perplexed me
    Have vanished quite away.

    Ye open the eastern windows,
    That look towards the sun,
    Where thoughts are singing swallows
    And the brooks of morning run.

    In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine,
    In your thoughts the brooklet’s flow,
    But in mine is the wind of Autumn
    And the first fall of the snow.

    Ah! what would the world be to us
    If the children were no more?
    We should dread the desert behind us
    Worse than the dark before.

    What the leaves are to the forest,
    With light and air for food,
    Ere their sweet and tender juices
    Have been hardened into wood, –

    That to the world are children;
    Through them it feels the glow
    Of a brighter and sunnier climate
    Than reaches the trunks below.

    Come to me, O ye children!
    And whisper in my ear
    What the birds and the winds are singing
    In your sunny atmosphere.

    For what are all our contrivings,
    And the wisdom of our books,
    When compared with your caresses,
    And the gladness of your looks?

    Ye are better than all the ballads
    That ever were sung or said;
    For ye are living poems,
    And all the rest are dead.

Present from Lieven 26.


Manière de battre le bled parmiles Hottentots,...

Image via Wikipedia

Lieven Grillaert

May I join you in the doghouse, Rover?
I wish to retire till the party’s over.
Since three o’clock I’ve done my best
To entertain each tiny guest. My conscience now I’ve left behind me,
And if they want me, let them find me.
I blew their bubbles, I sailed their boats,
I kept them from eachother’s throats. I told them tales of magic lands,
I took them out to wash their hands.
I sorted their rubbers and tied their laces,
I wiped their noses and dried their faces. Of similarities there’s lots
Twixt tiny tots and Hottentots.
I’ve earned repose to heal the ravages
Of these angelic-looking savages. Oh, progeny playing by itself
Is a lonely little elf,
But progeny in roistering batches
Would drive St. Francis from here to Natchez. Shunned are the games a parent proposes,
They prefer to squirt each other with hoses,
Their playmates are their natural foemen
And they like to poke each other’s abdomen. Their joy needs another woe’s to cushion it,
Say a puddle, and someone littler to push in it.
They observe with glee the ballistic results
Of ice cream with spoons for catapults, And inform the assembly with tears and glares
That everyone’s presents are better than theirs.
Oh, little women and little men,
Someday I hope to love you again, But not till after the party’s over,
So give me the key to the doghouse, Rover

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