It's My DollhouseIt's My DollhouseIt's your friends outside looking,Wondering where you have gone,It's not like you to disappear so,Something that causes discontent.They can't find you inside the house,Where all the dolls are dwelling,The place of serenity and bliss,It's your sanctuary and no others.The place you run to from all else,When the slings and arrows of life,Have caught you off guard too soon,To raise your walls of indifference.It's the hospital where broken emotions,Are translated into Southern Belles,Easily fixed with an artistic love,And the caress of super glue.And thus shall you emerge unbroken,Unstressed by the immorality of those -Whom you had entrusted with care,To join me in my empty dollhouse.By: Patrick PatinJan. 16, 200510:06 PM*What do you know, it turned out pretty good IMHO. One of those feel good, I've-got-it-worse-off-than-you-do sort of things.
The Life of a MitchellMRS. ELIZABETH BANKS MITCHELL BIOGRAPHY I was born in 1907 in the small town of Ripley, in western Tennessee, the daughter of Roderick S. and Ella Sinclair Banks. My father was an attorney and my mother was a teacher. My two younger brothers (Roderick S. and John H.), and I being close in years, were also close in companionship. My high school memories are of tennis, basketball, piano, reading, mathematics and Latin. I declared I would never teach.Upon graduation from high school in 1925, at my mother's insistence, I took the state teachers' examination and received a license to teach high school mathematics. I still had no desire to teach.In the fall, my parents decided that West Tennessee Teachers' College, now Memphis State University, was a convenient place for me to continue my education. There I came in contact with some excellent and dedicated instructors who inspired me with a zeal
Just some..."Just some Manga and a Coke"I drove; intent on goodbye,Arriving at some eclectic bar,The fire in my blue eyes,Embers already sputtering out.I fought with your words,In back of some honky-tonk,Coping with the issues,That haunts our relationship.I took you back to my home,While you stared out the glass,Like you never wanted to,Come back from outer space.I walked you through the door,Shuffling my lanky frame across,The huge oak threshold,Watched you start to change.I asked you what you wanted,With a tear in my cracked throat,"All I'd like" you would say,"Is some manga and a coke."By Patrick Patin7/24/2004 11:17 PM
Too Poor to Get Drunk"Too Poor to Get Drunk"This night's not even started,And I already know,What you're going to say,"I'm too poor to get drunk."Well perhaps you should have,Tried sobriety.What about the college fund,I never knew about,The one that you drank,When I was only thirteen?Well perhaps you should have,Saved integrity.You've brought this destruction;By your alcoholism,With your merry drinks,You have rotted this family,Well perhaps you shouldn't have,Wanted paternity.Because you've hurt me also,By being absentee,Not providing a father,Never trying to give advice,Well perhaps you shouldn't have,Had me.by Patrick Patin7/24/2004 11:17 PM