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PrintablePoorLittleBastard said: U yanks say day month & year the wrong fucking way round, U also drive on the wrong side...very dangerous
and y'all talk funny   behave will you!
ok they do have some strange habits | |
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In Memory Of A Short But Beautiful Life:
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PoorLittleBastard said:   I LOVE that movie!!! | |
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AndGodCreatedMe said:   | |
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PoorLittleBastard said: 'The Beautiful Thread'
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To me he is the ESSENCE of beauty inside and out... | |
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July said: PoorLittleBastard said: 'The Beautiful Thread'
 | |
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AndGodCreatedMe said: fag!! | |
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MartyMcFly said: AndGodCreatedMe said: fag!!  | |
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Christopher said:   | |
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Marty... 
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I find this pic beautiful..... | |
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i wrote this, obviously, in the fall:
Autumn Night I feel an aching, a longing, the change of seasons, the Fall. The time of my birth and nearing the time of my mother’s death. My little girl’s face. A need for comfort and promise unfulfilled. School back in session and crisp nights. An overwhelming buildup of emotion released only through a few tears and reflection. I love so much it hurts. I love and I feel to a state of hypersensitivity. I am a woman and within me life begins. Therefore, I must love, I must nurture, I must care. This curse is a blessing. This blessing is a curse. These tears can overwhelm a man, my man, who wants to “fix it”. There is nothing to fix. This is me, being. Existing. Caring, loving and feeling, the way I know how. I am a mother. I am a universal mother, give me a child and I can care for that child. This is a mother’s truth. Gone is the girl afraid to hold another’s infant, afraid this frail fragile creature would become injured in my hands. Give me a child, I can care for that child, I have been broken in. Make no mistake, babies train you. I have been trained, this is part of my DNA, my code. I am a mother, this defines me as much as anything has in my near 33 years on this planet. The cruel irony is that my mother is not here for me to share this with. But she knows, and she sees. I am beautiful. This elusive label just beyond my grasp has always been mine. I, however, have not always been ready. I’ve been awkward, shy, smart, cute, heavy, eccentric, friendly, quiet, loud, different. Beauty is an amalgamation of many components. It now belongs to me, I claim it and wear it proudly. I am comfortable in my skin. I have a thing for grace, an appreciation and a resolution to seek it in everyday situations. This pleases me. Grace is all around, but especially in my 2 year old. And in my hypersensitive state, I cannot think of this little girl without streams of tears. I love my little blue periods and the paradox of that very statement. And I love the Fall. | |
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Natisse said:
To me he is the ESSENCE of beauty inside and out... i agree 100% 
my GOD !!! does he have any idea how beautiful he truely is ????  One of the best days of my life... http://prince.org/msg/100/291111
love is a gift 
an artist with no fans is really just a man with a hobby.... | |
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starkitty said: i wrote this, obviously, in the fall:
Autumn Night I feel an aching, a longing, the change of seasons, the Fall. The time of my birth and nearing the time of my mother’s death. My little girl’s face. A need for comfort and promise unfulfilled. School back in session and crisp nights. An overwhelming buildup of emotion released only through a few tears and reflection. I love so much it hurts. I love and I feel to a state of hypersensitivity. I am a woman and within me life begins. Therefore, I must love, I must nurture, I must care. This curse is a blessing. This blessing is a curse. These tears can overwhelm a man, my man, who wants to “fix it”. There is nothing to fix. This is me, being. Existing. Caring, loving and feeling, the way I know how. I am a mother. I am a universal mother, give me a child and I can care for that child. This is a mother’s truth. Gone is the girl afraid to hold another’s infant, afraid this frail fragile creature would become injured in my hands. Give me a child, I can care for that child, I have been broken in. Make no mistake, babies train you. I have been trained, this is part of my DNA, my code. I am a mother, this defines me as much as anything has in my near 33 years on this planet. The cruel irony is that my mother is not here for me to share this with. But she knows, and she sees. I am beautiful. This elusive label just beyond my grasp has always been mine. I, however, have not always been ready. I’ve been awkward, shy, smart, cute, heavy, eccentric, friendly, quiet, loud, different. Beauty is an amalgamation of many components. It now belongs to me, I claim it and wear it proudly. I am comfortable in my skin. I have a thing for grace, an appreciation and a resolution to seek it in everyday situations. This pleases me. Grace is all around, but especially in my 2 year old. And in my hypersensitive state, I cannot think of this little girl without streams of tears. I love my little blue periods and the paradox of that very statement. And I love the Fall. that is beautiful  One of the best days of my life... http://prince.org/msg/100/291111
love is a gift
an artist with no fans is really just a man with a hobby.... | |
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nakedpianoplayer said: starkitty said: i wrote this, obviously, in the fall:
Autumn Night I feel an aching, a longing, the change of seasons, the Fall. The time of my birth and nearing the time of my mother’s death. My little girl’s face. A need for comfort and promise unfulfilled. School back in session and crisp nights. An overwhelming buildup of emotion released only through a few tears and reflection. I love so much it hurts. I love and I feel to a state of hypersensitivity. I am a woman and within me life begins. Therefore, I must love, I must nurture, I must care. This curse is a blessing. This blessing is a curse. These tears can overwhelm a man, my man, who wants to “fix it”. There is nothing to fix. This is me, being. Existing. Caring, loving and feeling, the way I know how. I am a mother. I am a universal mother, give me a child and I can care for that child. This is a mother’s truth. Gone is the girl afraid to hold another’s infant, afraid this frail fragile creature would become injured in my hands. Give me a child, I can care for that child, I have been broken in. Make no mistake, babies train you. I have been trained, this is part of my DNA, my code. I am a mother, this defines me as much as anything has in my near 33 years on this planet. The cruel irony is that my mother is not here for me to share this with. But she knows, and she sees. I am beautiful. This elusive label just beyond my grasp has always been mine. I, however, have not always been ready. I’ve been awkward, shy, smart, cute, heavy, eccentric, friendly, quiet, loud, different. Beauty is an amalgamation of many components. It now belongs to me, I claim it and wear it proudly. I am comfortable in my skin. I have a thing for grace, an appreciation and a resolution to seek it in everyday situations. This pleases me. Grace is all around, but especially in my 2 year old. And in my hypersensitive state, I cannot think of this little girl without streams of tears. I love my little blue periods and the paradox of that very statement. And I love the Fall. that is beautiful  | |
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thank you ladies... i appreciate that. | |
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