Phillipe

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  2. A Test Of Love

    in Creative Expression & Cultural Arts

    Posted

    A Test of Love

    ~Author Unknown

    John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station.

    He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind.

    In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II.

    During the next year and one-month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A Romance was budding.

    Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like.

    When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 PM at the Grand Central Station in New York.

    "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel."

    So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen.

    I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:

    A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive.

    I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.

    "Going my way, sailor?" she murmured.

    Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.

    I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own.

    And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her.

    This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful. I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment.

    "I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?"

    The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile.

    "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"

  5. More Amerika

    in Creative Expression & Cultural Arts

    Posted

    You're right.

    I'm sorry, Mods. Sorry, Admins. Sorry, everyone.

    But please don't bring up the "pay for" thing, OK? I own several sites - it isn't that expensive, even figuring in the amount of bandwidth this place probably needs. I'm not saying it's a moot point, but it isn't a strong negotiation tool either. If they were truly concerned with finances and needed to fund the site, they could have Google ads on every page. That would more than pay for hosting and maintenance. Hell, if they're THAT bad off, I'LL pay for the bloody thing.

    And keeping it a "nice" sandbox is relative. A hard-core occultist might wish to see all the Christian members banned, as most Christians probably wish I'd just go away. In catering to everyone, as I think you realize, you create headaches for yourself and please no one. My nasty comment was pointed at a general "you all" - in my POV, when a post that contains only gentle poking is treated like TNT, with no explanation, then that's equivalent to sending spam - unsigned, unacknowledged and definitely NOT honorable. When there's no explanation, imaginations (and the rumor mill) run amok. I felt I was chastised because I mentioned Kevin's name, and felt that if he couldn't "take" some ribbing, then something is wrong somewhere in the system.

    I understand how the management here works - I was simply venting my anger at the system. I have no ax to grind with anyone here.

    Except maybe Camelflogged, but he already knows that and hides from me a lot. -_-

  18. Amerika *sigh*

    in Creative Expression & Cultural Arts

    Posted

    Amerika? *sigh*

    (Sung to the tune of "American Pie" by Don McLean)

    A long, long time ago...

    I can still remember

    How my writing used to make me smile.

    And I knew if I put humor in

    That I could make some people grin

    And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.

    But mind police, they made me shiver

    With every poem I’d deliver.

    Bad news on the forum;

    I couldn’t make one more post.

    I can’t remember if I cried

    When I saw my works were all denied,

    But something touched me deep inside

    The day that free speech died.

    So bye-bye, is the rallying cry.

    No more topics that are heavy,

    My stuff's all cut and dried.

    And them good mind cops were sinkin’ all that I tried

    Singin’, "this’ll be the day free speech dies.

    "this’ll be the day free speech dies."

    Did you write a post on love,

    And did you make fun of God above,

    Everybody says it's so

    Do you listen to rock ’n roll,

    Can stories save your mortal soul,

    Watch us teach you how to heel, real slow

    Well, I know you’re gonna' moderate

    Every post I've made on here to date.

    You'll guzzle down your beer

    And decide what others hear

    Oh, I was a lonely rhyming Taoist monk

    But it seems I'm seen as just a punk

    And I knew that I was out of luck

    The day that free speech died.

    I started writin’,

    "Bye-bye, why should I even try?"

    All the cops here speak of freedom

    But the cops here all lie.

    Them ol' mind police are sinkin’ all that I try

    And singin’, "This’ll be a thread we'll deny.

    "This’ll be a thread we'll deny."

    Now for five years all my stuff's condoned

    But hey, wait - is he getting stoned?

    Well that’s not how it's allowed to be.

    What the Sifu wrote in a parody

    It was judged unworthy for all to see

    In a voice that came from you to me.

    Oh, and while the Mods were looking down,

    They stuck on Phil a thorny crown.

    The forum was adjourned;

    No verdict was returned.

    And while Admins read a book of Marx,

    The OTDs smoked in the park,

    And sang dirty lyrics in the dark

    The day that free speech died.

    I was writing,

    "Bye-bye, is my rallying cry"

    No more topics that are heavy

    Now my stuff's cut and dried

    Them good mind cops were sinkin’ all that I tried

    And singin’, "This’ll be a thread we'll deny.

    "This’ll be a thread we'll deny."

    Helter skelter, I wrote how I felt her.

    The Mods flew off seeking moral shelter,

    I was high and climbing fast.

    I landed foul mentioning grass

    The Admins cried for a ban, en masse,

    With the Sifu on the outside, on his ass.

    Now the big crime here, as I assume,

    Was posting words that weren't groomed.

    That's why they looked askance

    Oh, but I never got a chance!

    `cause the members seem to need a shield;

    That's why the Mods keep their eyes peeled.

    Do you recall what was revealed

    The day that free speech died?

    I started writing,

    "Bye-bye, is my rallying cry"

    No more topics that are heavy

    Now my stuff's cut and dried

    Them good mind cops were sinkin’ all that I tried

    And singin’, "This’ll be a thread we'll deny.

    "This’ll be a thread we'll deny."

    Oh, and there they were all in one place,

    A ministerial Master Race

    With nothing left but pure disdain.

    So come on: Mod, be nimble, Mod, be quick!

    Hey, Mod - sit on a candlestick!

    Cause fire is the Censor’s only friend.

    Oh, and as I'm watched in this small cage

    I really start to feel my age

    No angel born in hell

    Could help these people spell.

    And as the flamewars climbed into the night

    No ones quite sure who's wrong or right,

    I saw Kevin laughing with delight

    The day that free speech died

    He was singing,

    "Bye-bye, Mr. Poetry Guy

    No more mentioning such evil

    Or your ass we will fry.

    My good old boys are dyin’ for you to try

    And singin’, "This’ll be the day free speech dies.

    "This’ll be the day free speech dies.""

    I met a girl who drank some booze

    And I asked to see her cool tatoos,

    But she just frowned and turned away.

    I went down to the sacred site

    Where I’d heard that tolerance was right

    But the Admins said my stories wouldn’t play.

    "Live without meats", ol' Clueless screamed,

    The Admins cried, ol' Git got creamed

    But not a word was spoken;

    The members' wills were broken.

    And the three things I admire most:

    Honor, truth and a decent host

    They got thrown from pillar to post

    The day that free speech died.

    And I was singing,

    "Bye-bye, is my rallying cry"

    No more topics that are heavy

    Now my stuff's cut and dried

    Them good mind cops were sinkin’ all that I tried

    And singin’, "This’ll be a thread we'll deny.

    "This’ll be a thread we'll deny."

    We were singing,

    "Bye-bye, is our rallying cry"

    No more topics that are heavy

    Now our stuff's cut and dried

    Them good mind cops were sinkin’ all that we tried

    And singin’, "This’ll be a thread we'll deny.

    "This’ll be a thread we'll deny."