a Poem, not exactly Dr. Seuss, but it's from the heart

I like Boobies, by Straycat

I like boobies
I like small boobs
I like medium boobs
I like big boobs
I like GeNormus huge boobs
I like boobs in the morning
I like boobs at night
I like boobs in darkness and in daylight
I like boobs that titalize, tantalize and tease
I like boobs every which way, if you please!
I like boobs in my hands
I like boobs from here at home and from all lands

The Other Night I watched a movie called "The Illusionist". The ending made me think of Melissa, my ex-wife and how much I miss her some times. how alone I am all the time and how I wish I was not.

Love may never die, but how can I forgive her what she's done?

Are these memories I have of the good times delusions or are they real? Was it really that good? Or do I only THINK it was that way?

When is it time to give up on hope? Even if it is only hope FOR hope?

Like the artist that cannot sell a single painting, the writer that cannot get a published, the musician that keeps playing dispite not being able to read a single note off a sheet of music. Like a priest that believes against all odds, and against everything this world does on a daily basis...