The REAL MFP Uncrushables thread...

cincysweetheart

I am uncrushable because I rely on nobody but myself.
I am uncrushable because I don't rely on motivation.
I am uncrushable because I reject any excuses for failure.
I am uncrushable because I don't need people to tell me how good I look. I don't need people to "like" or comment on everything (or anything) that gets posted on my news feed.
I am uncrushable because I know what I am capable of.
I am uncrushable because I am too d@mn stubborn to give up. (Besides, I'm better than that)

lewispwest

I am uncrushable because I didn't let depression, a crippling back injury, my binge eating disorder or morbid obesity get in my way of happiness.

EvgeniZyntx

I am my memories.
I am my voices. Uncrushable.
That's nice, a bit hippy dippy,
pass the sugar for this coffee.

I am like the cold remembered
Present, permeating, silence
broken by the thousand sounds of ice
walking across the slush and water
Chadar-tested or
pushing the bike up on the snow
fearing I'll give up
Better, Mr Salt and Pepper, telling travel stories,
This coffee is getting cold.

I am like the bamboo tree
In the storm, the culture chameleon,
Trying to teach my daughters
Strength through change.
All the mixed metaphors, weakness justified.
Nice try but getting old.

like an idea...
thoughtless
like the wind...
you certainly are, old fart
Fall down 8, get up 9...
speaking of, let's open a bottle, this coffee is gone.
The knife edge...
getting dull and soft. And fat. Have a sip.
And repetitive with all these immaterial symbols.
Bring it to a close, let me drink in silence

Sigh.

Ok, I am nothing but the dervish voices in my head,
The moment nurtured or lost, not dead.
Remember Rumi*:
"That sealed jar in the stormy sea out there
Floats on the waves because it's full of air"

Fine. How does that continue?
"When you've got this insanity inside?"
No, not quite
"You'll float above the world and there abide..."
Good, now silence!








*Masnavi, Book 1

MireyGal76

EvgeniZyntx wrote: »

I am my memories.
I am my voices. Uncrushable.
That's nice, a bit hippy dippy,
pass the sugar for this coffee.

I am like the cold remembered
Present, permeating, silence
broken by the thousand sounds of ice
walking across the slush and water
Chadar-tested or
pushing the bike up on the snow
fearing I'll give up
Better, Mr Salt and Pepper, telling travel stories,
This coffee is getting cold.

I am like the bamboo tree
In the storm, the culture chameleon,
Trying to teach my daughters
Strength through change.
All the mixed metaphors, weakness justified.
Nice try but getting old.

like an idea...
thoughtless
like the wind...
you certainly are, old fart
Fall down 8, get up 9...
speaking of, let's open a bottle, this coffee is gone.
The knife edge...
getting dull and soft. And fat. Have a sip.
And repetitive with all these immaterial symbols.
Bring it to a close, let me drink in silence

Sigh.

Ok, I am nothing but the dervish voices in my head,
The moment nurtured or lost, not dead.
Remember Rumi*:
"That sealed jar in the stormy sea out there
Floats on the waves because it's full of air"

Fine. How does that continue?
"When you've got this insanity inside?"
No, not quite
"You'll float above the world and there abide..."
Good, now silence!








*Masnavi, Book 1

Perfect!