C.G.Ayling

Author: CGAyling

  • Tweets for Posterity 274.

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    So often the sounds of things aren’t the same, when we translate them to paper, from our brain.

    How good we are doesn’t matter if no one cares.

    Love the work you do, or be a slave to the work you hate.

    Is it a good thing, to close your eyes and experience death?

    We fool ourselves that we do well, when we choose, our time to sell.

    Does acceptance of our mortality make us better mortals? I think… yes.

    Who has washed our world of joy? A question close to what this poem is about. http://bit.ly/CGApTgp

    How did the world slump into such straits? This is not the way things must be. People are not pawns to be discarded.

    Wife, “I’d like to see you try…” Me… smile, chuckle. Wife, “That wasn’t a promise, that was a threat.”

    Since I seem to have nothing positive to say today, I’ll just go away. For my unknown friends ~ http://bit.ly/CGApFrn

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    A poem, {not about religion at all}. http://bit.ly/CGApTgp Please RT if it moves you.

    “a captivating story that will leave you breathless until the end” – Portland Book Review. http://bit.ly/CGAxPr1 #ASMSG pls RT

    The Africa the tourists see, is not the Africa for me. A hard land, filled with gentle, generous people.

    Corruption is a sliding scale.

    Trust’s twin bears the name Betrayal.

    It’s OK not to know the reason why, that only in our dreams we fly.

    The future is not then, it starts now, growing from the seeds we sow.

    “Ayling’s writing is strong and charismatic, almost Biblical, as though it carries the weight of both mythology…” http://bit.ly/CGAxAM

    Long days, for short dollars.

    “I love you” so simple to say, so hard, to never hear…

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    Your tears, reflected within theirs will be, such sweet sorrow, neither wants to see.

    Sharing, it’s what friends do – thank each of you for sharing with me. #FF My poem, on Friendship http://bit.ly/CGApFrn

    The weekend is upon me… So good to be out from under the week. Enjoy the rest, wherever and whenever you are.

    Every pet we’ve ever owned, has been disowned, every pet we’ve ever loved has loved us – far more.

    The ancient are the most honorable among us, their wisdom is boundless, free, and most importantly without bias.

    Love, a contract you can neither read, nor see yet from which your heart won’t let you flee.

    Laughter: a better drug than any made, the one we choose, yet can’t abuse.

    Silence, another edge to the blade words can so easily be.

    Words, sharper than any blade can be, or softer than a sigh.

    Children, seers of magic all about, till parents blind them with their doubt.

  • Tweets for Posterity 271.

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    While memories offer comfort, they don’t offer companionship.

    Our vision of the world is ours, alone.

    Within each picture are a thousand thoughts, within each thought, are a thousand more.

    To rebuild a bridge you’ve burnt, requires the aid of those you set aflame.

    To have so many touch me with their words, leaves my spirit tender, not bruised.

    At work I’m forced to lie, if not with words, then with a feigned smile of content.

    The only worthy way to judge another, is well.

    Ever noticed how when someone says, “Trust me”, you don’t?

    Love, the light binding two souls, in flight.

    When you bid the ones you love goodbye, strive to hide your teary eye.

  • Tweets for Posterity 270.

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    “A world where character counts for more than dogma, material wealth, or inherited acclaim.” Malmaxa, my world. http://bit.ly/CGAmb1s

    Coincidence: when universal flows combine mid-steam.

    My review of "The Sowing" by @akmakansi Get it while it's hot! https://cgayling.com/malmaxa/2013/07/the-sowing-a-review/ …

    If I could choose a mother, I would choose mine – I hope every one of you would do the same.

    …just a day, but just a day is still away…

    perception modifies truth, are reality and truth one and the same,… good question.

    The only bridges we can never cross, are the bridges we have burnt.

    Gone all day again, today… just a day, is now two.

    Our vision of the world is ours, alone.

    The thing we need the least, is the judgement of our peers.

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    Bow your head or hold it high, Shut tight your eye, or open wide, but listen close, to hear your heart’s reply.

    Modesty is only modest, if it is not false.

    oceans deep and oceans dark, but not near so, as the desires of a hungry heart.

    The one thing you should never apologize for, is being the true you.

    When we start to censor ourselves, we have lost, and “they” have won.

    Twitter overload imminent, intuitive capacity exceeded, system shutdown in 5…4… {now}

    Self-doubt, such a confusing thing. I think I’ve improved http://bit.ly/CGApFrn but I also think I’ve hurt it.

    To be, or to be undone, that isn’t a question.

    songs unsung, pens, un-inked, dreams undreamt, life, sorely spent.

    Simply because authority demands does not mean you should give.

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    If you never begin, how can you hope to make an end? Once you make a start, try to hold closed the floodgates of your heart.

    In this world of plenty, none should ever spend a day, with bellies empty. #hunger

    My writing is less concerned with places and things, than with people, and the inner workings of their minds. http://bit.ly/CGAmb1s

    #Hunger is not a matter of control, unless you’ve given up your soul.

    Twitter Etiquette: If it adds to the conversation, reply, if it doesn’t, pass it by…

    Twitter Etiquette: What moves you, might move others, the things that please, are pleasing, so hit RT, and stop teasing!

    Twitter Etiquette: Those seeking gems often find them in the timelines of their friends.

    Oceans fading to horizons unseen, sights as these bring peace, and dreams.

    The ocean, a place of peace, its calm captured in a seashell, you can.

    Prayer: our most profound and intimate introspection.

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    {JuliaGem} “Happiness is like when you pee your pants – everyone can tell, but only you feel the warmth.”

    Sweat the things you can change, wipe your brow of the things you can’t.

    Art isn’t defined by its medium, but by its creator.

    Morality and religion are neither inclusive, nor exclusive.

    In the most primitive, primal people, is something eloquent and true, and something cruel and frightening too.

    how wonderful it is, to have someone who understands.

    Revisiting the places where memories were made brings back the memories, again.

    The borders we obey, friends from us will stay.

    I cringe when people say, “Friends are always there for you.” Sometimes it should be, “Friends are there to stop you”.

    #FF you say? Well, for me that inspired a poem about friendship – read it here:- http://bit.ly/CGApFrn And never forget your friends.

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    Though the internet knows no bounds, borders still remain. So sad for the many, who’ll only follow those who dwell in their domain.

    What business of anyone save friends, are any of these questions, Race, Religion, and Gender?

    My truths are in everything I say, even my most trivial wordplay.

    The boundary on the land as nothing, when compare to the boundaries about a closed heart.

    If the skin has never broken, what is there to mend.

    A heart that’s never shattered, can’t hope to truly feel.

    A soul that’s never sorrowed, is not a soul, at all.

    Though the riverbed remains, its waters do not, in all things, is change.

    Let me be the thousandth to tell you that working in 90+ 100% humidity weather is no fun at all…

    One of my Tweeters is completely different to all the rest, can you guess… yes, that unique who is you.

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    Those we truly love dwell forever in our hearts, pristine in our memory. As long as we live, they will never die.

    Sometimes the biggest treasures, are in the smallest things. {Don’t know why, but I envision her as tiny.}

    through lands dream wrought we wander, together in a dream though apart we ever be.

    I’d rather reveal the thoughts that trouble me, with friends I’ll never see, than risk laying my soul bare, with a therapist, paid to care.

    {JuliaGem} “Your DNA might be part of me, but I’ll never be a part of you.” {Though our children are ours forever, let them be themselves.}

    So sad, to slay a tree long dead, that in its place, you might plant a sapling, instead.

    Though our genes they’ll carry, their character is their own. Yes, we can modify behavior, but we can’t change character.

    And why, oh why, would we ever want to try? Grant your children the freedom to be themselves, don’t force them into little molds, of you.

    My day? Two dead trees, to slay. A parasite took their life, now I must take their limbs. {Emerald Ash Borer}

    The nature of primitive man, is to take everything he can.