Friday, February 10, 2012

{L}ife's {L}yrics

...all I really want
is some patience.
Longamity isn't a strength of mine. I've been filled with langour lately. I've been feeling a whole lot of lassitude. I think it's the impending move combined with some sick kiddos and my then my hips that are just constantly feeling lancinations. They must be misaligned completely or something.  It's frustrating.
A way to calm the angry voice...
A local leader of the Lord,  posted this billboard outside of his church earlier this week. I'm trying to reign in my irritation.  I have to communicate with this man {I sort of know him...let's just say}, and I refuse to speak out of anything other than love.  {No need to lapidate or larrup anyone!} His ways of expressing his labarums are offensive to me, though. 

...and all I really want is deliverance.
Oh. I'm sorry. I thought she meant delivery.
Yep. It's delivery I'm really wanting right now.
{I have limosis I supposis}
Sushi or curry to be exact.
Do I wear you out?
My job wears me out to the point of lentor.
Sometimes I'll look around my house
{messy, of course}
and SWEAR I've been working my bum off
for 11 hours straight
{at least I'm not a lychnobite, though, right?}
with nothing to show for it.
{unless you count happy and smart kids with full bellies, which...of course I do!}
9 kids = worn.out.

You must wonder
why I'm so relentless
and all strung out.
So now we're talking about
my poor eating habits
{there are days when I'd be better off limivorous,
although I'm VERY thankful I'm not lithophagous}
and my hair? 
{leiotrichous, and I wish it was more lissotrichous}
If she says so.
I'm consumed by the chill of solitary.
Every other Friday night I find myself alone at the house.
No kids...
{they're with their Dad}
No Ryan...
{he's bowling}
But the only chill I experience on these solitary nights comes from me turning down the thermostat so I can get comfy in my footie pajamas.
{The cats don't complain.}
I'm like Estella...
{I like to reel 'em in and then spit 'em out.}
Not so much the Great Expectations one.
Moreso the Warren kind.
{Everybody sees our twin-like similarities, right?}
I'm frustrated by your apathy!
Not necessarily...YOU. Just apathy in general.
I've been lachrymose about so very many lachrymogenic issues latelyEspecially when it comes to this topic, this topic, this topic, this topic, this topic, this topic, this topic, this topic, this topic, and recently...this topic.

And I am frightened by the corrupted ways of this land.
{If only I could meet the Maker.}
Where would I even begin?  
How about with voter fraud?
Enough about me.
Seriously, though.
There are days I want to stop blogging
because every once in awhile I just plain hate
talking about myself and I'm worried my lexis isn't very effective...
{Is the opposite use of lipogram even worth the time spent drafting these?}
I wonder sometimes why I continue to do this.
I always get sucked back in, though.
{It's like lecanoscopy re-reading posts, perhaps?}

 Let's talk about you for a minute.
 This is where I have to ask you the usual
 end-of-post wrap-up question. 
{You'll see why in a few seconds.} 
**What song title would describe
your life right now?**

Enough about you...
let's talk about life for a while.
{The conflicts, the craziness and the sound of pretenses
Falling all around...all around}

Life is pretty darn good.
I found out yesterday that my sonshine
got placed into ELP.
He understood what it meant 
when I shared the news with him
because his older sister got placed in ELP
not too long ago.
His first meeting with his peer group
and new teacher
{for 30 minutes every Friday}
was today so I asked him what he wanted to
wear to school.

He declared,

"Oh...well...  We're DEFINITELY going to need to go with something handsome.  How about... you know...that greyish sweater and those black pants?  
That way I get to wear my shine shoes."

"Sure.  I suppose if you want to. 
{searching through his closet for an undershirt for the sweater that buttons down}  Dagnabit bud, I can't find the shirt
that goes underneath of that sweater."

"Yaaaaah. But that's ok. 
 I'll just wear that shirt underneath instead.
 {pointing one of his gazillion superhero t-shirts}
That way people will know who I really am."

"Who are you really?!?"

"A very handsome superhero."

{and I'm a lucky lady.}

Why are you so petrified of silence
Here can you handle this?




This literose and largiloquent post was brought to you by the letter L.
For being a literator, a logophile and forever student of lexicology.
Also for littles, leftovers, lessons learned, Lullabies, Libertarians, Liberty, The Two Lovelutions I Love and Limericks [which I almost wrote.]


Did you think about your bills, your ex, your deadlines...
Or when you think you're gonna die...
Or did you long for the next distraction?


Your life and my life flow into each other
as wave flows into wave
and unless there is peace and joy and freedom for you
 there can be no real peace or joy or freedom for me.
To see reality
–not as we expect it to be
 but as it is–
is to see
that unless we live for each other
and in and through each other
we do not really live very satisfactorily.
That there can really be life
only where there really is
in just this sense –
[Frederick Buechner]
 {L}ink {L}ove 

No comments:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...