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Poems On / About HOUSE  11/26/2015 1:34:30 PM
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At Home In Stephen Harpers House

Stephen Harpers Wife: “Stephen the garbage is full it’s your turn to take it out tonight”

Stephen Harper: There is no proof whatsoever to support that notion that it is “my turn” to take out “My Garbage”. Where is the evidence that supports the theory that this garbage of what you speak is mine, the garbage is not mine, it is somebodies else’s, I never once made garbage and I will not pick it up. The facts are clear I never knew anything about any garbage, perhaps the garbage was created by the garbage man, and he’s the one that filled the garbage can in the house when I wasn’t looking, therefor it should be the garbage man who carries out the garbage that he created. I cannot be held accountable for the garbage that is full. I did not appoint this garbage man to the job; I will not apologize for cleaning up garbage. Therefor I will no longer discuss this issue with you

Stephen Harper’s Wife: Stephan you left the milk carton out again it’s all gone sour.
Stephen Harper: Laureen the milk is not sour, it is simply taken time to recover and ferment and it is only temporary, I have always been fiscally responsible for milk, I will be happy to put you in touch with milk experts I know who will say that the milk is experiencing a temporary decrease of productivity, but it will recover. You have to think of the outside factors that affect milks taste, like temperature and airborne particles and accumulates, air is a very instable elements which effects Milk. I have an excellent plan to make the milk good again, analysis are predicting milk will be good as long as we are on track. You can’t trust liberals with milk.

You clearly have no understanding of how milk works

Stephen Harpers Wife: Stephen I found proof that the climate in our house is going up, what do you have to say?

Stephen Harper; “I’ll say this Laureen, that I have trusted experts from Westerberg gasoline corps, that say that the temperature is not going up but is in fact going down, its simply your ageing body that is thinking that it is going up, besides you’re not taken into consideration that as a whole this house has more room in square feet then your given credit to,
Stephan Harpers Wife; HA HA! I have proof! , if you look right here on the thermostat it says the temperature is going up, you can’t ignore the facts of that.

Stephen Harper: That is one thermostat in one room, if you look at the thermostat in the basement and upstairs you will see each one has a different description, I won’t bore you with the details of climatology other than to say that I have experts who I pay to tell me that what I say is right, besides I know for a fact that the climate in this house is better than ever, and my admissions never pass especially when I am passing gas. I’m too busy to discuss this matter further; I have a country to destroy.

It was at this time that Stephen Harpers wife, went upstairs, dressed in her finest dress, went to the shed, got a gallon of gasoline drowned the entire house leaving a trail to the front, stood by lit a cigarette and threw the match into the trail, that blazed across the manicured lawn then engulfed the house into a raging inferno that completely obliterated all her troubles. Later panties belonging to Nigel Wright were found in Mr. Harpers Closet, Stephen Harper made no comment.
Kevin Patrick

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Empty Old Houses

Empty Old Houses

Empty old houses can talk…
But one must know how to listen…
to hear them

Empty old houses have stories…
But one must be eager to listen…
to hear them

Empty old houses can suffer..
But one must have empathy …
To feel it

Empty old houses can feel pain
But one must be able to bear it …
To feel it

Empty old houses have memories
But one must believe … that they have…
To share them

Empty old houses contain people’s lives
But one must believe…that they do…
To share them

Empty old houses can seem dead and deserted
But one must know that they’re not..
To know them

Empty old houses can teem with life’s pleasures
But one must walk through
to sense the aura of life

Empty old houses abound in life’s treasures
But one cannot help but…
To admire them
David Whalen

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Travel Thailand Haiku - Jim Thompson Bangkok House

Jim Thompson House
the house too
misses its owner

my eyes run up and down
left and right
for jim

Jim Thompson House
it is too waiting for
owner to be back

Jim Thompson House
this emptiness that
the owner will never be back

Jim Thompson House
despite the visitors
the loneness in the house

jim thompson house visit
a bird's cheerful chirp
all is up and well for him

jim thompson house
that forboding giant tree
right in front of door

Jim Thompson a former CIA agent left all in America to live in Bangkok and helped promote Thai traditional silk and woven fabric
to the West in the 60s He built a beautiful traditional house in a secluded part of Bangkok which has become a tourist spot today.
It is stocked with plentiful of Thai as well as Burmese antique buddhas, paintings, ceramic as well as Chinese Blue and White. Jim went missing when holidaying in the Cameron Highlands in Malaysia on March 26,1967. Nothing was found of him. He left behind a string of mysteries about his whereabouts. But one thing is for sure, his house in Bangkok is swarmed daily by tourists. Jim Thompson is now a popular brand in the fabric industry.
john tiong chunghoo

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‘to The Slaughter-House’- A Cattle-Song!

To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we cows all go;
We gave men milk and butter, ghee;
They want our beef now;
We’ve no other go.

To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we oxen go;
We tilled their lands and milled oil-seeds;
They want our hide now;
We’ve no other go.

To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we sheep all go;
We grazed their meadows, eating grass;
They want our mutton now;
We’ve no other go.

To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we cattle go;
We served mankind as God said so;
Selfish men want our flesh now;
We’ve no other go.

To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we animals go;
Jostled, huddled, unfed, crowded;
Men want our lives now;
This is our last ride, we all know;
We’ve no other go.

Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-20-2008
Dr. A.Celestine Raj Manohar M.D.,

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Poems On / About HOUSE