Creative Brooding

Welcome to my blog. My name is Pat O'Connor and I wanted to create one little spot where I could share feelings, thoughts, even ramble if I want to. Perhaps too, reveal a side of me very few know about. If there are two words I would use to describe myself, those two would be iconoclastic and eclectic.

Sunday, February 19, 2006



Two Wolves

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.
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He said, "My son, the battle is between 2 'wolves' inside us all.
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"One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy,sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.
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"The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith."
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The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?"
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The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

Friday, February 03, 2006


Some of us have never belonged in this world...for we are vagabonds who journey down life's path seeking beauty and meaning...only to find the emptiness of an endless eternity to torment our forsaken souls......

and we put a candle in the window and the taker of souls never sees the light and passes us by that we can suffer for yet another day.

Who can know or understand the empty meaningless futility of our existence

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Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and grey Look out on a summer's day With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills Sketch the trees and daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colours on the snowy linen land
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen
They did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds and violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colours changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artists' loving hand
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen
They did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left inside
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you Vincent
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you
Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow
Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen
They're not listening still
Perhaps they never will...