Bambi bought a gun…….
Must have been one hell of a gun….
When I was kid, I used to go duck hunting with my father,
some very fun found memories are those, the best was always the dinner plate
who brought in what, what is the count. Oh my ego could play on that; with
birds on the fly, I was just better than he, he, with his semi auto against me
and my single shot. Vests lay with hen and drake rounds was the count. Not
always but most days I won, even to the duck.
Quick question what would Bambi need for a gun? I mean to
make it fair what would you arm that dear with? Okay I’ll be fair lets add a
few friends for him, he really needs an owl air power and night vision combined
perfect choice, a bit stealthy too boot, he’ll need a few dolphins too, sea
power with smart capabilities, a regiment or two of highly trained badgers, and
raccoons special ops day or night stealth units capable of holding ground, he’ll need the bears, all colors and sizes
the cavalry of the field.
Oh shit they already fought that one, we won.
A flower discarded is a love unloved,
Worsened by the gentleness of age,
Abrupt in youth,
A love rejected.
Hay how do you get that way,
You know what I mean how do you get to love,
Everyone feels full if the meal is cooked with love.
Off to the kitchen with me, grounded again for skipping out
on responsibilities, no truer statement could explain love. You know my grandma
was right, about me, keep me in the kitchen. I learn a lot in the kitchen…..
Think about it for a second, about what happens in the kitchen,
it’s the only place where grandma recipes stand toe to toe with any chief’s creation;
from the quick to uncommon the recipes of the kitchen are well scrumptious.
I mean from breakfast to deserts the building of them, even
when confused ideas like noodles for breakfast the kitchen can be quite fun.
A cup of shared time, two cups conversation, a task mixed
with an idea of so much fun.
Yes the kitchen sounds like a great place to take on love.
What meal is not cooked with the idea of love so perfectly than the meal built
with love in the kitchen. The daily tasks of providing, cleaning, chopping and
blending, each single meal with the idea of giving even to self, the benefits
of crisped, toasted, bake, boiled, frozen delights.
Love its in the Kitchen. Just like the meal you have to
build it.
Hay now why the dark poem at the top? Is that about an
onion?
NO this is what you take away at the end of a gun or with a bomb;
you take away the ability of love, you reject it old or young; with what comes
out that barrel or in that boom, that is not built on love. No child, not one
should die by the weapons of war. Or did you forget every child needs a meal.
Replace the word love with child and read that poem again.
No I do not fight fair. We do miss so much with death. Hard
to believe people will ignore it or reject that, or deny that to a child who
has as much right to love as you or I.
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