<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:15:05.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'> TouchingTheSoul.com </title><subtitle type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God (John Chp 1 verse 1)

Site dedicated to touching souls one at a time... Christo Diata  From Christ To Lion&lt;/strong&gt;</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-9078794450606784406</id><published>2009-01-04T16:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T16:22:23.465-08:00</updated><title type='text'>She</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_POS59hlum6k/SWFSa2edDsI/AAAAAAAAABI/XxaE9-26-O8/s1600-h/DSC_3388a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 197px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_POS59hlum6k/SWFSa2edDsI/AAAAAAAAABI/XxaE9-26-O8/s320/DSC_3388a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287598058762997442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 9"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 9"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:/Users/Diata/AppData/Local/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:donotoptimizeforbrowser/&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;She was the apple of my I&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Her joining with me&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Added one more day&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;To wanting to see eternity&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The sunshine outlined&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The daytimes that I would count&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Crossing lines in the clouds&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Spelling my name plus hers&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Knowing that each crossing &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Was more than just words&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But hints&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sent for her to see&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wherever she may be&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Hoping she’s thinking of me&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Because when she joined with me&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Making my I into we&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I could see&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;An eternity of wanting to love her &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Lovingly…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-9078794450606784406?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/9078794450606784406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=9078794450606784406' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/9078794450606784406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/9078794450606784406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2009/01/she.html' title='She'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_POS59hlum6k/SWFSa2edDsI/AAAAAAAAABI/XxaE9-26-O8/s72-c/DSC_3388a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-2287501864426728734</id><published>2008-07-31T13:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T13:23:34.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Only He Can</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;She found me&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I was in a state of wandering&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wondering where the rings that circled out&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Reflecting the sky from my thoughts&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Would return&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In a pond leaving my center empty&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;She gave me purpose&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;A new definition for life&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Our birth signs the same&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Plus twenty-two cycles around the sun&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Pisces roam in pairs&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Her yang for my ying &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Circled endlessly &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I could create words for her&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Engulfing our twoness &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Into oneness&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Like one nest&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;That we were fated to make home&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;She called me baby&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As She chewed up and fed me dreams&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Visions of our future&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I ate well&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Like she was the well that quenched me &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;She was the half full&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;While my half was fuller&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Overflowing into fantasy&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Of what would happen next&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Perplexed&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;That god could give us anything less than&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Perfect.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Only he can add One and One&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And get One&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And we were now&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;"&gt;ONE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-2287501864426728734?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/2287501864426728734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=2287501864426728734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/2287501864426728734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/2287501864426728734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2008/07/only-he-can.html' title='Only He Can'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-8338798488564190482</id><published>2008-07-09T03:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T03:19:47.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Missin You</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Kina 2008&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I scratch nine lines on the side of my heart&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wishing for nine lives&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Like nine lies&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Beneath sunken rose petals&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;That have long died&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Not only did I cry but your children cried too&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I gaze from my window&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Only my longing stare can scratch the surface&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;To unearth this feeling I get &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When thinking of you&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Almost nine years have past now&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Longed for hundreds of sunsets now&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Missin your kiss and your smile &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;my heart never to let go&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Asked your permission a along time ago&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;That if these times past&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;One day I would renew my soul&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;She my new heart first like you&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Second in this life&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Carries a ring &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;That defines her my wife&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Our children now hers&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Our life’s goals now renewed&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But between two new sets of brown eyes&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Maybe one day to bring two more new&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Never to forget the love in store&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And never forgetting my first heart you&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When I become a spirit &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My heart split in two&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But then I’ll know you &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Again as my friend&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;from the beginning&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So comes the end&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I scratch nine lines on the side of my heart&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wishing for nine lives&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Like nine lies&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Beneath sunken rose petals&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;That have long died&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Not only did I cry but your children cried too&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Still and always missin you&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-8338798488564190482?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/8338798488564190482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=8338798488564190482' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/8338798488564190482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/8338798488564190482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2008/07/still-missin-you.html' title='Still Missin You'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-5570056546501153611</id><published>2008-07-08T20:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T20:15:13.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hannika 2008</title><content type='html'>To: Hannika&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;When We are new together &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Understand me&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;When I say&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;I just want to &lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Take things slow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;So I can &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 191);"&gt;Get to know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Why you chose me to be the one you &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 96, 191);"&gt;want to Know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;going into the sunset watching &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 96, 191);"&gt;nature’s glow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Holding on to a memory created so we &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 255);"&gt;don’t let go&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Like walking in the park instead on being &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 255);"&gt;on the road&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Loving every minute we are together like we are &lt;span style="color: rgb(64, 64, 255);"&gt;joined by the soul&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;When you’re gone missing your presence like &lt;span style="color: rgb(64, 64, 255);"&gt;I don’t want to let go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Us sewing silver linings on storm clouds till the &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 64, 127);"&gt;rain beholds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Our hearts making &lt;span style="color: rgb(64, 64, 255);"&gt;new things grow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Hand in hand we walk &lt;span style="color: rgb(64, 160, 255);"&gt;beneath rainbows&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Into the sunshine you and sweet &lt;span style="color: rgb(64, 160, 255);"&gt;ebony will go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Why?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Cause we took it slow&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;A sweet sista Hannika&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Just wants you to know&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Take it slow&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;and maybe just maybe &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 96, 191);"&gt;we will know&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;LOVE&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-5570056546501153611?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/5570056546501153611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=5570056546501153611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/5570056546501153611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/5570056546501153611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2008/07/hannika-2008.html' title='Hannika 2008'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-113451916420861073</id><published>2005-12-13T16:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T16:12:44.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TIll Four</title><content type='html'>To: Stephanie&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;six and a half months to go&lt;br /&gt;Hell is DC in the winter time&lt;br /&gt;carrying contraband past those borders&lt;br /&gt;one man justice force of the rules&lt;br /&gt;Ba Ba better not try to check&lt;br /&gt;lest he be one member short of a team&lt;br /&gt;gremlins eatin their way into&lt;br /&gt;My sanity&lt;br /&gt;gotta count to ten&lt;br /&gt;MIND SCREAMS&lt;br /&gt;It’s not working!&lt;br /&gt;whack whack whack whack&lt;br /&gt;temporary&lt;br /&gt;silence &lt;br /&gt;momma’s angels sitting in desks&lt;br /&gt;teacher done gone loosened the ropes&lt;br /&gt;and the little natives aren’t circling the bonfire&lt;br /&gt;but teachers still burning&lt;br /&gt;CAN’T STEP FROM THE FLAMES TILL FOUR&lt;br /&gt;attentions shift to the class at hand&lt;br /&gt;temporary insanity no longer the plea&lt;br /&gt;As one little gremlin walks from the clearing smoke&lt;br /&gt;Ms Stephanie are you coming to our house&lt;br /&gt;Overtime clock chimes  &lt;br /&gt;when homework time comes&lt;br /&gt;McDonald’s is hiring&lt;br /&gt;pays more, less work, better benefits comes to mind&lt;br /&gt;best to answer one said child with a yes and a smile&lt;br /&gt;and remember one said Daddy is one of your best  friends&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-113451916420861073?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/113451916420861073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=113451916420861073' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/113451916420861073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/113451916420861073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/12/till-four.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;TIll Four&lt;/strong&gt;'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-113447281974714887</id><published>2005-12-13T03:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T03:20:19.760-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To Feel Good</title><content type='html'>To: Selma (Rose)&lt;br /&gt;where: Brazil (Brasil)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My thoughts wander&lt;br /&gt;to the land of Brasil&lt;br /&gt;to Selma I hear her&lt;br /&gt;her thoughts&lt;br /&gt;she dances to the sounds&lt;br /&gt;of heartbeats &lt;br /&gt;while tongues twist lyrically &lt;br /&gt;making poems of words&lt;br /&gt;her heart beats of music &lt;br /&gt;that permeates &lt;br /&gt;each rising breath&lt;br /&gt;her sigh &lt;br /&gt;a sign of relief&lt;br /&gt;her heart blooms&lt;br /&gt;like a rose&lt;br /&gt;to gently touch&lt;br /&gt;those who listen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-113447281974714887?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/113447281974714887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=113447281974714887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/113447281974714887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/113447281974714887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/12/to-feel-good.html' title='To Feel Good'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-112553724052484518</id><published>2005-08-31T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-31T18:16:12.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Missin You 2005</title><content type='html'>To: Those who know me already know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My clock chimes six times&lt;br /&gt;I mark the sixth of six lines&lt;br /&gt;once for each year I miss you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rise to this new dawn a romantic with out a cause&lt;br /&gt;rereading a contract with no clause&lt;br /&gt;wonderin who turned my world upside down&lt;br /&gt;finding knew ways to replace a smile for a frown&lt;br /&gt;just to reclaim the emptiness of being an romantic &lt;br /&gt;when there are no sounds of applause for being ro man tic toc tic toc&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My clock chimes six times&lt;br /&gt;I cross the sixth of six lines&lt;br /&gt;once for each year I miss you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;our sons have grown now the oldest a young man now&lt;br /&gt;their sister has stepped into young adult&lt;br /&gt;moved to increase her thought&lt;br /&gt;in College a smile brought to a gentle spirits face&lt;br /&gt;I race to be worthy of this next day I breathe&lt;br /&gt;that she calls when she needs tic toc tic toc&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My clock chimes six times&lt;br /&gt;I mark the sixth of six lines&lt;br /&gt;once for each year I miss you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-112553724052484518?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/112553724052484518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=112553724052484518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/112553724052484518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/112553724052484518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/08/missin-you-2005.html' title='Missin You 2005'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111762898025878962</id><published>2005-06-01T05:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-01T05:29:40.263-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Queen vs. Goddess by Christo</title><content type='html'>To: Yeeeeeeeeaaaaah Right!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queen vs Goddess&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;As a queen as a Goddess&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As A Queen I find her beautiful&lt;br /&gt;As a Goddess I find her hypnotic&lt;br /&gt;Each word she speaks &lt;br /&gt;Flows from her tongue&lt;br /&gt;Like the enchantments of Cierce&lt;br /&gt;In the tells of Ulysses&lt;br /&gt;There can be no place to run &lt;br /&gt;From her charms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a Queen I love her&lt;br /&gt;As a Goddess I am in love with her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As A queen I can show her no weakness&lt;br /&gt;As A Goddess she is my weakness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As A Queen I help her achieve&lt;br /&gt;As A Goddess I supply her needs as if they are my own&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As A queen She can speak&lt;br /&gt;As A Goddess she seems to speak through me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As A Queen I spoil her sometimes&lt;br /&gt;As A goddess I have no choice but to spoil her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As A Queen I will introduce her to my friends&lt;br /&gt;As A Goddess I will protect her from them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a Queen I can share her with others&lt;br /&gt;As A Goddess I want her all to myself cause I’m greedy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As A queen She is my friend&lt;br /&gt;As A Goddess She is my mate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As A Queen my eyes can wander &lt;br /&gt;To those who would crown me&lt;br /&gt;As A Goddess She is the center of my attention&lt;br /&gt;And I have been crowned&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As A Queen I would protect her&lt;br /&gt;As A Goddess I would die for her, rise after death&lt;br /&gt;And die for her again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As A Queen I must know what it is for her to be happy&lt;br /&gt;As A Goddess I bask in her happiness it soothes me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF she is a queen I have the right to enter her court&lt;br /&gt;Because I am one of the few she trusts&lt;br /&gt;As A Goddess She has crowned me In her court&lt;br /&gt;And awaits for the day for me to capture her hand&lt;br /&gt;And become a God&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If she is a Queen she helps me achieve my goals&lt;br /&gt;If she is a Goddess she is my goal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As A queen I see the potential for nations in her womb&lt;br /&gt;As a goddess I wish to plant that nation there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A queen my friend&lt;br /&gt;A Goddess My heart &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As A queen I may appear to her a little crazy&lt;br /&gt;As A Goddess I appear to her in love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If she is a queen she knows of my family&lt;br /&gt;If she is a goddess she is my family&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A queen can see me &lt;br /&gt;A Goddess can see through me and understand…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A queen I can chase for a day, a year even more&lt;br /&gt;A Goddess I chase for life &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There can be many queens&lt;br /&gt;There can only be one Goddess&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the presence of many Queens I am in a state of death&lt;br /&gt;In the presence of one Goddess I am clinging on to every second of life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Queen Goddess is always possible&lt;br /&gt;If she is my Goddess to become a queen again&lt;br /&gt;Would mean My crown was stolen&lt;br /&gt;Although she would never question the worthiness of my place&lt;br /&gt;And may come to wish to regain it again&lt;br /&gt;But stolen crowns are usually lost forever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If she is my friend she is already a Queen&lt;br /&gt;The question is will she ever be my Goddess&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111762898025878962?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111762898025878962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111762898025878962' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111762898025878962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111762898025878962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/06/queen-vs-goddess-by-christo.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;Queen vs. Goddess&lt;/strong&gt; by Christo'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111719412323189095</id><published>2005-05-27T07:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-27T04:43:14.490-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tell Me written by Christo Diata</title><content type='html'>For: T. Jackson&lt;br /&gt;To: Two special people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for asking me to write for you.. you have blessed my morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tell Me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone wants to live forever &lt;br /&gt;but no one wants to die&lt;br /&gt;Like everyone wants to laugh&lt;br /&gt;But no one wants to cry&lt;br /&gt;Hello, Morning and Just love me&lt;br /&gt;“Tell me”&lt;br /&gt;Me and you livin eternity&lt;br /&gt;Brown eyes tie brown eyes&lt;br /&gt;Like Chocolate mixes with crème&lt;br /&gt;You some people call Ky &lt;br /&gt;but I see you as  my dream&lt;br /&gt;Your attention enthralls me&lt;br /&gt;When past voices echo “I don’t want to hear it” you exalt me&lt;br /&gt;I know you love me and show me your love daily&lt;br /&gt;Where all others have failed me&lt;br /&gt;You look into the world with passion&lt;br /&gt;And &lt;br /&gt;“tell me” &lt;br /&gt;the things I need to hear&lt;br /&gt;I want to catch your drift&lt;br /&gt;Each time you are near &lt;br /&gt;Look upon my crème&lt;br /&gt;Feel the passion when I speak&lt;br /&gt;I will show you with my actions&lt;br /&gt;How much I need you&lt;br /&gt;Your birth moves my earth&lt;br /&gt;22 cycles around the morning’s sun&lt;br /&gt;Can we count the beams together&lt;br /&gt;And approach each challenge as one&lt;br /&gt;touch my hair&lt;br /&gt;get tangled in my thick brown release&lt;br /&gt;while I look upon you &lt;br /&gt;and see a part of me&lt;br /&gt;Hello, Morning and Just love me&lt;br /&gt;“Tell me”&lt;br /&gt;Let’s live forever and never die..&lt;br /&gt;Sweet K Y  (KeY to ME)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111719412323189095?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111719412323189095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111719412323189095' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111719412323189095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111719412323189095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/tell-me-written-by-christo-diata.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;Tell Me&lt;/strong&gt; written by Christo Diata'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111719351653757085</id><published>2005-05-27T04:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-27T04:31:56.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I want by Christo Diata</title><content type='html'>TO: A sista who once asked me what I want...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What I want?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once a woman asked me what I want&lt;br /&gt;Some questions require thought&lt;br /&gt;I answer it here…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I want&lt;br /&gt;I want to fall in love with one woman&lt;br /&gt;Know her heart, fears, mind, and what she needs to share&lt;br /&gt;Have sex with the same woman for the next fifty years&lt;br /&gt;Be in love as she parts and counts each of my gray hairs&lt;br /&gt;Until one day &lt;br /&gt;Sitting on sandy shores we will both stare&lt;br /&gt;Out over the horizon watching the sunset &lt;br /&gt;Hugging the moon light &lt;br /&gt;Holding hands&lt;br /&gt;Underneath our bed sheets the morning tide &lt;br /&gt;We will become as free as the sun rise &lt;br /&gt;And rule our birthed lands&lt;br /&gt;Guiding our children’s hands&lt;br /&gt;Until what they want is to be like us&lt;br /&gt;And tell our story just to touch &lt;br /&gt;The souls of those that need to be touched&lt;br /&gt;And once a woman asked me what I want&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes &lt;br /&gt;What I want is the patience and friendship to know&lt;br /&gt;What we want&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111719351653757085?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111719351653757085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111719351653757085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111719351653757085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111719351653757085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/what-i-want-by-christo-diata.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;What I want&lt;/strong&gt; by Christo Diata'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111698783760963745</id><published>2005-05-25T00:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T19:23:57.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Panic Attack!</title><content type='html'>OK that last one was kind of one sided in view... this is another short story I wrote in passing time... Are there guardian Angels? Do you beleive? Feed back is always good... DcTiger@TouchingTheSoul.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Panic Attack!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sandra didn’t know what hit her. She was used to running this way at least three times a week. But today, She just couldn’t find the energy to keep going. She was getting dizzy.  She stumbled to a halt a by an oak tree close to the trail to get her breath. They were becoming short and erratic as if she was having a panic attack. She could feel her heart beating inside her chest. Putting her hand on or wrist she checked her pulse. She thought.&lt;br /&gt;“That’s it for running today I’m going to have to walk this one out.”&lt;br /&gt;Her mind wandered back to a conversation she had with her boyfriend (Scott) earlier this week about her little guardian angel that always seemed to look out for her and keep her out of trouble. She couldn’t help but to think,&lt;br /&gt;“Where is my little guardian now, must be her day off.”&lt;br /&gt;Sandra was at the half way point of her normal run. The five mile trail followed a River close to her home, circled and returned to it’s starting point. It was always serene, one of the best places for her to think and wind down after a stressful week. &lt;br /&gt;Another female Jogger passed her while she was still trying to get her breathing and heartbeat back to normal. She noticed she was wearing a pink jogging suit. The young lady was the first person she saw on the trail since she had been running today. There was a gloomy overcast kind of like rain was coming so the trail was not as crowded with morning joggers as usual. Sandra’s breathing was returning to normal and she could feel her heartbeat slowing as well. She made her way away from the Oak tree back to the trail and decided she would walk the last two and a half miles home. She was a little worried about what could be the cause of her loosing her breathe the way she did. It just wasn’t normal for her. She began her walk. &lt;br /&gt;She always carried her cell phone with her just in case of emergencies. This would almost qualify. She called Scott pushing the three on her handset and holding it till the automatic memory dial started. The phone rung three times before Scott picked up.&lt;br /&gt;“Hello”&lt;br /&gt;“Hi baby.”&lt;br /&gt;“Hey. How are you? I didn’t expect to hear from you for at least another hour or two. Aren’t you working out?”&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, but half way around the trail I didn’t feel too well. Got dizzy and my heart sped up.”&lt;br /&gt;“Are you all right? Do you need me to come and..”&lt;br /&gt;“No, I think I can make it. I am walking back to the house now. I have about two and a quarter miles to go.”&lt;br /&gt;“I’m going to come and meet you on the trail. Which way are you coming from.”&lt;br /&gt;“The regular way.”&lt;br /&gt;“Ok I’m on my way out the door now. I’ll see you soon. Stay calm.”&lt;br /&gt;“I’m OK now. I just wanted you to know what was taking me so long.”&lt;br /&gt;Scott lived across the street from Sandra so he could look out of his front window and set his clock by her morning schedule. Sandra was a person of habit. He was correct in saying he was on his way out the door. He heard a commotion as he left his house the distant sound of sirens. They were heading in the direction of the park. &lt;br /&gt;“I wonder if she called the police or ambulance too?” Scott thought as he turned back to the house to get his bicycle. A need for a little extra speed was in order. He walked around the side of his house to his shed opened the door and rolled out his ten speed Mountain Bike.&lt;br /&gt;He got on and made his way to the park. The trail started around 5 blocks from his and her house. He heard another siren coming past a few streets over as he made his way around the corner. &lt;br /&gt;“Four blocks to go.” &lt;br /&gt;Scott felt butterflies, the type you feel when you’re worried.&lt;br /&gt;He just knew something was wrong. He picked up his pace. Three Blocks later he was coming up on the trail exit. He saw a police car blocking it with his overhead lights on. As he approached the officer exited his car and held his hand out saying, &lt;br /&gt;“ Sorry the Trail is closed temporarily today. You’ll have to come back later.”&lt;br /&gt;Scott got off his bike and approached the officer saying,&lt;br /&gt;“I am coming to meet my fiancé. She called me from the trail earlier to tell me she wasn’t feeling that good. I told her I would meet her and escort her home.”&lt;br /&gt;The officer took out a pen and paper and started jotting something down. Then he eyed Scott asking. &lt;br /&gt;“Can you give me your fiancé’s name and a description sir?” &lt;br /&gt;“Yes her name is Sandra Taylor and I am not sure what she was wearing but I believe it was a light brown jogging suit with 3 white stripes down the side. She has shoulder length dark brown hair usually pulled into a ponytail, brown eyes and is around 5’ 4” with a petite build.&lt;br /&gt;The officer turned away from Scott and walked toward his car tilting his head toward his shoulder radio and reading the description. He paused for several seconds then received a reply. The information didn’t fit the victim’s profile. The officer turned back toward Scott and said.&lt;br /&gt;“Your Fiancé should be fine Sir. I would return home and wait for her there.”&lt;br /&gt;“I am really concerned because she called me less than a half an hour ago and told me she felt dizzy and got sick on the trail.”&lt;br /&gt;The officer grimaced at Scott as if questioning his belief in Scott’s statements.&lt;br /&gt;“What’s your name Sir?” &lt;br /&gt;“Scott Moorefield”&lt;br /&gt;The Officer spoke into his radio again.&lt;br /&gt;“Billy, have one of the deputies go up the trail and see if they run into anyone fitting that description, I have her fiancé Scott here and he is concerned of her well being.”&lt;br /&gt;“10-4” was the reply that came through.&lt;br /&gt;“Wait here Sir I’ll see what I can find out for you.”&lt;br /&gt;“So what’s going on Officer?” Scott could not hide his discomfort.&lt;br /&gt;“I am not at liberty to say.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile further up the Trail Sandra was feeling a lot better. She was approaching a lot of commotion that was happening. There were three Officers, One patrol car and an ambulance blocking the pathway. As she approached the area one of the Officers spotted her and turned towards her looking at a small pad in his hand. He approached her speaking in a country accent. &lt;br /&gt;“Maam, Are you miss Sandra Taylor?”&lt;br /&gt;“Yes I am.” She replied puzzled why he would be asking for her.&lt;br /&gt;“You’ll have to excuse the commotion, Maam. Someone is waiting for you at the end of the trail. Your fiancé Scott.”&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, He was supposed to meet me.”&lt;br /&gt;She noticed the lady in the pink Jogging suit sitting in the back door of the ambulance her clothes were visibly torn and she was bruised. There was another gentleman in a sweat suit talking to an Officer who was writing down information onto a pad. And there was a third man in the back of the patrol car.&lt;br /&gt;“Officer the young lady in the ambulance passed me on the trail earlier. What happened here?” Sandra Asked.&lt;br /&gt;“An attempted sexual assault was stopped by a passing jogger Maam. You are very lucky you didn’t pass through here earlier.” His statement stopped.&lt;br /&gt;“If you don’t mind Maam I’d like to escort you to your fiancé so you can go home. I’m going to need to take your information in case we have any questions.”&lt;br /&gt;Before taking Sandra’s Information he called the officer at the trail exit to let him know Scott’s Fiance was fine and on her way. He then escorted her to the trail exit jotting down her information on a small pad on the way.&lt;br /&gt;When Sandra saw Scott looking worried next to the Officer she ran to him and gave him a big Hug.&lt;br /&gt;He was so relieved to see her. Later they would discuss how her little guardian angel was looking out for her by making her feel sick. They never again questioned that all things happen for a reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scott took up jogging and biking about three times a week. It became precious time spent between them. They are married now and expecting their first baby and Sandra hasn’t had any more panic attacks since that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The End &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or&lt;br /&gt;Ok Ok let me know.. not new.. not unique.. but good practice... Give me a topic to write a story on.. An assignment.. the more the better... Help my imagination flow...&lt;br /&gt;Every story has truth in it... I hear so many stories every day.. You would be amazed of the maricles that happen daily.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111698783760963745?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111698783760963745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111698783760963745' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111698783760963745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111698783760963745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/panic-attack.html' title='Panic Attack!'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111699101734790614</id><published>2005-05-24T20:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T20:16:57.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Infectious</title><content type='html'>TO:Shannon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her smile is as infectious&lt;br /&gt;As the sweetest honey&lt;br /&gt;The Earth could supply&lt;br /&gt;Who would think a Mack Truck &lt;br /&gt;Could be disguised in a 5”2” frame&lt;br /&gt;Rollin over hearts like that&lt;br /&gt;Story at eleven&lt;br /&gt;Another brother lain in the street&lt;br /&gt;Heart broke&lt;br /&gt;Her still a Queen born of a Queen&lt;br /&gt;Don’t ask &lt;br /&gt;Cause she doesn’t answer&lt;br /&gt;Justice can be served &lt;br /&gt;Without your knowledge&lt;br /&gt;Although you will feel the withdrawal pains&lt;br /&gt;Have you calling in exact figures&lt;br /&gt;If you can count&lt;br /&gt;But even with all that&lt;br /&gt;You won’t forget her smile&lt;br /&gt;Beauty one&lt;br /&gt;The beast zero&lt;br /&gt;Time to change the script&lt;br /&gt;I forgive beauty&lt;br /&gt;Each time I see her&lt;br /&gt;I will see the joy in her father’s eyes&lt;br /&gt;Spoilin her&lt;br /&gt;I will see the protectiveness of her brother’s heart&lt;br /&gt;Guarding her&lt;br /&gt;I will see the love her mother&lt;br /&gt;Nurturer of her&lt;br /&gt;And one day after forgiveness&lt;br /&gt;When I need to be saved &lt;br /&gt;Drama would have left her heart&lt;br /&gt;And she may become my heroine&lt;br /&gt;All said and done&lt;br /&gt;I forgive her&lt;br /&gt;Will smile when I see her&lt;br /&gt;Wave if she sees me&lt;br /&gt;Look out for her village&lt;br /&gt;Cause it crosses my own&lt;br /&gt;And watch for her &lt;br /&gt;Infectious smile&lt;br /&gt;Because without any effort&lt;br /&gt;It could have me&lt;br /&gt;Laid in a hospital bed&lt;br /&gt;On antibiotics&lt;br /&gt;Wonderin what hit me&lt;br /&gt;And made me dizzy&lt;br /&gt;Not wantin to wake up&lt;br /&gt;I’ll always be willin to listen to her&lt;br /&gt;When she’s talking again&lt;br /&gt;Until then She is a friend&lt;br /&gt;forgiven &lt;br /&gt;No one has the power to hurt me but me&lt;br /&gt;And I am not in the habit of causin pain&lt;br /&gt;Just healing… building.. and loving..&lt;br /&gt;I ain’t scaard..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111699101734790614?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111699101734790614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111699101734790614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111699101734790614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111699101734790614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/infectious_24.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;Infectious&lt;/strong&gt;'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111699023937842860</id><published>2005-05-24T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T20:03:59.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Infectious</title><content type='html'>To:Shannon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her smile is as infectious&lt;br /&gt;As the sweetest honey&lt;br /&gt;The Earth could supply&lt;br /&gt;Who would think a Mack Truck &lt;br /&gt;Could be disguised in a 5”2” frame&lt;br /&gt;Rollin over hearts like that&lt;br /&gt;Story at eleven&lt;br /&gt;Another brother lain in the street&lt;br /&gt;Heart broke&lt;br /&gt;Her still a Queen born of a Queen&lt;br /&gt;Don’t ask &lt;br /&gt;Cause she doesn’t answer&lt;br /&gt;Justice can be served &lt;br /&gt;Without your knowledge&lt;br /&gt;Although you will feel the withdrawal pains&lt;br /&gt;Have you calling in exact figures&lt;br /&gt;If you can count&lt;br /&gt;But even with all that&lt;br /&gt;You won’t forget her smile&lt;br /&gt;Beauty one&lt;br /&gt;The beast zero&lt;br /&gt;Time to change the script&lt;br /&gt;I forgive beauty&lt;br /&gt;Each time I see her&lt;br /&gt;I will see the joy in her father’s eyes&lt;br /&gt;Spoilin her&lt;br /&gt;I will see the protectiveness of her brother’s heart&lt;br /&gt;Guarding her&lt;br /&gt;I will see the love of her mother&lt;br /&gt;Nurturer of her&lt;br /&gt;And one day after forgiveness sets&lt;br /&gt;When I need to be saved &lt;br /&gt;Drama would have left her heart&lt;br /&gt;she will see truth&lt;br /&gt;And she may be my hero&lt;br /&gt;or a hero to my sons&lt;br /&gt;All said and done&lt;br /&gt;I forgive her&lt;br /&gt;Will smile when I see her&lt;br /&gt;Wave if she sees me&lt;br /&gt;Look out for her village&lt;br /&gt;Cause it crosses my own&lt;br /&gt;And watch out for her &lt;br /&gt;Infectious smile&lt;br /&gt;Because without any effort&lt;br /&gt;It could have me&lt;br /&gt;Laid in a hospital bed&lt;br /&gt;On antibiotics&lt;br /&gt;Wonderin what hit me&lt;br /&gt;And made me dizzy&lt;br /&gt;Not wantin to wake up&lt;br /&gt;I will always be willin to listen&lt;br /&gt;When she’s talking again&lt;br /&gt;cause her speech is precious &lt;br /&gt;when she chooses to share it&lt;br /&gt;Until then She is a friend&lt;br /&gt;and forgiven &lt;br /&gt;No one has the power to hurt me but me&lt;br /&gt;and I am not in the habit of trying to hurt&lt;br /&gt;just heal.. and build.. and love..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Please stop smilin like that I'm gettin dizzy."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;em&gt;your smile can brighten up a day, Always smile&lt;/em&gt; Christo Diata&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LATA YA'LL&lt;br /&gt;Tiger&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111699023937842860?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111699023937842860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111699023937842860' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111699023937842860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111699023937842860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/infectious.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;Infectious&lt;/strong&gt;'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111685530212894396</id><published>2005-05-23T06:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-23T06:36:51.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shelly's Shadow</title><content type='html'>Hey bet u always wondered why I said author poet. that's because i have always written short stories (5 to 50 pages) I have been attempting to put together a group of erotic/ horror/ sudutively weird stories to release sometime this year but every time i read the stories i am not satisfied enough to release them yet. So I write little short stories on the side of my short stories and I am releasing a few of them here on my blogs with my poetry! Wow.. life always inspires stories and there is always truth intwined in some authors work. Let me know what you think email or comments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Shelly's Shadow&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hid in the shadows waiting for her to return. It was seven o’clock Monday mourning. James never thought he would do anything like this. He felt crazy. But shelly had stopped calling him three weeks earlier and he didn’t know how to react. Everything seemed OK last time they spoke. He called several times through the week. Shelly got home at seven fifteen from work when, she was on time. She was usually a timely person. She worked the night shift at Shady General Hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His mind wandered back to the first time they went out. He was dropping her off from a date. They had gone to check out a local flick. He couldn’t even remember the title because Shelly was the center of his attention at the time. She was fine. No denying it.&lt;br /&gt;He took her out to dinner afterwards, nothing too lavish, just a comfortable greasy spoon &lt;br /&gt;restaurant that had good home cooking and a romantic setting. The lighting was dim with candles accenting each table. They ate their meal and talked for nearly an hour before leaving. He took the scenic route to her home past the waterfront. They continued to talk.&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the date they hugged at her front door and went their separate ways. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was months ago now. They went out two more times and talked on the phone often but not nearly often enough he felt. He thought they had decided to give the relationship thing a try. At least that was the way he understood it from speaking with her until, she mysteriously stopped answering the phone and calling. James first response was she was busy and would call back later. But, no call came. Even on the day they were supposed to go out he called again and didn’t receive any response.  Naturally he became worried. I mean she wasn’t his wife or anything like that, they were still in the area of being new friends and this didn’t seem normal to him that she wouldn’t call. He hoped she wasn’t hurt or sick and didn’t but want to over react in a new friendship. James always followed his intuition and he got the feeling she was OK but could never be sure. So he decided he would position himself where he could see her, so he could be sure. One sighting is all it would take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was coming up on seven fifteen. Shelly would be arriving shortly. She was right on time. She had gotten a ride home from work with a co-worker. She exited the car thanked her co-worker and waved goodbye. As she started for the walkway to her apartment building the co-worker drove off. James stepped from behind the Shrubbery to the right of the entrance and she saw him. Clinching her arm to her purse and walking quickly towards the door she said out loud,&lt;br /&gt;“Oh you’re into stalking now!”&lt;br /&gt;James wasn’t at all startled by her response said &lt;br /&gt;“No, not at all. Just when you stopped calling I was concerned. I wanted to know if you were alright.”&lt;br /&gt;“So it took over two weeks for you to come see if I was alright.”&lt;br /&gt;“No I did call, you just didn’t answer.”&lt;br /&gt;“That should’ve been the clue.”&lt;br /&gt;She said as she put her key into the front doorway to enter the building. James could already see there was nothing there anymore, but he couldn’t help but to ask.&lt;br /&gt;“What happened, why did you stop answering my calls or calling me?”&lt;br /&gt;He already knew you can’t make someone like you, but he wasn’t in the habit of leaving friendships on bad terms. She was opening the door, as she walked into the apartment building she looked at him and said. &lt;br /&gt;“You should’ve been thinking about that when you posted your business on the web like that.”&lt;br /&gt;She pulled the door closed behind her.&lt;br /&gt;James thought about what she said and remembered a letter he had written to a lady he had wanted to be his flame at one time. He wrote this letter before he had committed to Shelly although he did know her at the time. He didn’t know what made him post it. Maybe a temporary lapse of sanity but even worse he didn’t know Shelly knew about his website. He wondered if she had read the letters that he wrote to her (Shelly) over the past few weeks. For him writing was a release a way to express his feelings when he couldn’t speak them. Sometimes his letters were not understood but never the less he stood behind what he wrote. Writing was a very important part of his life even though it made him feel inept right now. It has saved his sanity many times. He turned to walk back to his car as apartment entrance door closing echoed in his mind. But as that door closed he felt closure, which was very important to him. He didn’t have to wonder what happened. His only wish was she would learn to forgive him. No friendship on any level will ever last without it. Because in being forced to date for a while the one thing he has never found was the perfect woman so he never expected to be looked upon as perfect himself.&lt;br /&gt;James knew if he liked someone he would apologize, ask for forgiveness and answer to that person he needed to forgive him. Make-ups are special and needed in any friendship.&lt;br /&gt;Whether between the people you hang out with to create the bond or with the woman you want to be intimate with.  That’s the way friendships last and that’s what makes them special. The fact that you care how they feel. With Shelly her forgiveness would mean a lot even if her and James were not meant to be more than friends at least they would be friends.&lt;br /&gt;James knew Shelly would have no problem replacing him many times over. She was gorgeous like that. But at the same time James didn’t have any shortage of friends he could take out. He just knew it was becoming harder and harder for him to fall in love or even to want to. That was something he hoped was on reserve for Shelly. She was very sweet natured, but like all things in his life right now before they flower they die.&lt;br /&gt;Well if her actions were meant to hurt him, they did but men aren’t allowed to cry.&lt;br /&gt;We are expected to carry on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;James looked forward to the day he would be required to buy flowers again, and do all those things people in love do… James could almost see the bus stop Shelly sometimes used to catch to work from his room window. He never saw Shelly though. The future will tell if he ever will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The End or the beginning?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you got this far thanks for reading &lt;br /&gt;Christo Diata.. &lt;br /&gt;Don't forget to ask me to write for you on &lt;a href="http://www.TouchingTheSoul.com"&gt;TouchingTheSoul.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out my now &lt;a href="http://www.cafepress.com/touchingthesoul"&gt;Webstore&lt;/a&gt;! Join the Poetry Generation! Lata Peace&lt;br /&gt;unfortunately I have been informed I have lost 2 of my 5 readers.&lt;br /&gt;That leaves 3 including myself. I am trying for 4 by the end of the year (smile)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111685530212894396?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111685530212894396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111685530212894396' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111685530212894396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111685530212894396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/shellys-shadow.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;Shelly&apos;s Shadow&lt;/strong&gt;'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111646015141824649</id><published>2005-05-18T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-18T16:49:11.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Take Time</title><content type='html'>To: WHomever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am born in the sky&lt;br /&gt;I am not perfect&lt;br /&gt;I soar to U&lt;br /&gt;Wings spread a vision of perfection&lt;br /&gt;It took time to create this&lt;br /&gt;Why do you not take time to see me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am born from the earth&lt;br /&gt;I am not perfect&lt;br /&gt;I come to you&lt;br /&gt;Plush green and full of sweet smells and life&lt;br /&gt;It took time to create this&lt;br /&gt;Why do you not take time to see me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am born of the water&lt;br /&gt;I am not perfect&lt;br /&gt;I break down mountains for U&lt;br /&gt;I cleanse every part of the earth you proclaim to own &lt;br /&gt;even when you turn to dust&lt;br /&gt;Why do you not take time to see me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am man I am born of a woman&lt;br /&gt;I am not perfect&lt;br /&gt;I slave in an unforgiving life&lt;br /&gt;To build a kingdom where we can reign&lt;br /&gt;It takes time to create this&lt;br /&gt;Why do you not take time to see me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am woman I am born from the joining of two&lt;br /&gt;I am not perfect&lt;br /&gt;I walk to you eyes open looking to the future&lt;br /&gt;When you see me you see perfection&lt;br /&gt;Mother of the womb that nurtures you&lt;br /&gt;Why do you not take time to see me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are all things created in the image of I Am&lt;br /&gt;We are not perfect&lt;br /&gt;But when you learn to forgive the faults&lt;br /&gt;You will see the beauty that lies just beneath&lt;br /&gt;Then you will know that we are perfect&lt;br /&gt;Created in the wake of the life that created US&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111646015141824649?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111646015141824649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111646015141824649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111646015141824649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111646015141824649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/take-time.html' title='Take Time'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111626377944256823</id><published>2005-05-16T10:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T10:16:19.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Till Tomorrow</title><content type='html'>TO: Deloris&lt;br /&gt;Location: South Carolina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for asking me to write for you. I hope you like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never put off till tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;what you can do today&lt;br /&gt;I hear echoing from the voice &lt;br /&gt;o f a brown eyed queen&lt;br /&gt;her hair flowing in length&lt;br /&gt;from brown to green&lt;br /&gt;twining my thought like the&lt;br /&gt;growth within her&lt;br /&gt;her words like a vine&lt;br /&gt;captivate those who listen&lt;br /&gt;5 foot 4 inches unique&lt;br /&gt;and heaven brought&lt;br /&gt;a sista with un ending dreams&lt;br /&gt;and deep in thought&lt;br /&gt;but my words brought thick&lt;br /&gt;as the tear in her father’s eye&lt;br /&gt;when he held her&lt;br /&gt;his princess&lt;br /&gt;to the midnight sky&lt;br /&gt;and proclaimed her&lt;br /&gt;a gift from god&lt;br /&gt;now decades of wisdom&lt;br /&gt;show her this new day&lt;br /&gt;a woman who others aspire&lt;br /&gt;to be...&lt;br /&gt;In many ways&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes shown by complements&lt;br /&gt;sometimes shown by jealousy&lt;br /&gt;but nevertheless&lt;br /&gt;shown.. By others&lt;br /&gt;while she comforts In harmony&lt;br /&gt;with herself..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111626377944256823?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111626377944256823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111626377944256823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111626377944256823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111626377944256823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/till-tomorrow.html' title='Till Tomorrow'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111622743778491876</id><published>2005-05-16T00:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T09:01:52.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Batman  By Christo Diata</title><content type='html'>TO: Raymond&lt;br /&gt;From: Barbara&lt;br /&gt;Location: Channelview, Texas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Barbara for allowing me to write for you. I hope all works out for the best. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Batman&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart mourns your absence&lt;br /&gt;U to be so far from me&lt;br /&gt;moved beyond my vision&lt;br /&gt;my tears soak my bed sheets&lt;br /&gt;I wait to be warmed by your light skinned presence&lt;br /&gt;yearning to see the deep brown of your eyes&lt;br /&gt;“Batman” my forbidden love&lt;br /&gt;Hidden I read your letters in the shadows&lt;br /&gt;my heart missing you &lt;br /&gt;I count the year till your return&lt;br /&gt;and pray for understanding&lt;br /&gt;of my family &lt;br /&gt;so that I can yearn&lt;br /&gt;to be with U&lt;br /&gt;outside in the day&lt;br /&gt;never having to fear&lt;br /&gt;separation between us&lt;br /&gt;because you will be here&lt;br /&gt;till that day my broken heart&lt;br /&gt;cuddles to your words&lt;br /&gt;and awaits every seven days&lt;br /&gt;till your return...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111622743778491876?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111622743778491876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111622743778491876' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111622743778491876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111622743778491876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/batman-by-christo-diata.html' title='Batman  By Christo Diata'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111610153086956881</id><published>2005-05-14T13:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-15T05:38:19.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Tear Drops</title><content type='html'>TO: Lil Cherokee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Teardrop falls&lt;br /&gt;Waves circle out&lt;br /&gt;Inscribed on them love letters&lt;br /&gt;Last seen on the horizon&lt;br /&gt;Call me if you saw them&lt;br /&gt;No view if they reached their destination&lt;br /&gt;The sun sets&lt;br /&gt;A page closes on the perfect sky&lt;br /&gt;hearts walk kissing in pairs&lt;br /&gt;The coupled silhouettes I see not my own &lt;br /&gt;Never knowing how special we could've been&lt;br /&gt;I wave good-bye&lt;br /&gt;And pray my heart lives on&lt;br /&gt;Waiting for the tide to return&lt;br /&gt;Like smoke signals&lt;br /&gt;In the distance&lt;br /&gt;I see Teepees on the horizon&lt;br /&gt;my gift my crime&lt;br /&gt;all I wanted to be was&lt;br /&gt;In love...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111610153086956881?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111610153086956881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111610153086956881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111610153086956881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111610153086956881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/tear-drops.html' title='A Tear Drops'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111584044964351661</id><published>2005-05-11T15:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T12:54:06.850-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I need</title><content type='html'>TO: Whoever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I need&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good friends&lt;br /&gt;Places to go&lt;br /&gt;Things to do&lt;br /&gt;Time to laugh&lt;br /&gt;Time to cry&lt;br /&gt;Time to dream&lt;br /&gt;People to miss&lt;br /&gt;People to love&lt;br /&gt;Friends to share with&lt;br /&gt;To feel wanted&lt;br /&gt;To feel handsome&lt;br /&gt;To feel Touch&lt;br /&gt;To smile just because&lt;br /&gt;Because I want to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I don’t need in a woman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anything fake&lt;br /&gt;Too much free time&lt;br /&gt;no communication&lt;br /&gt;anyone who doesn’t want to talk to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;someone who won’t call me&lt;br /&gt;at 3:45 am and  wake me while I’m sleeping&lt;br /&gt;because I pissed them off and they’re still awake&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;someone who won’t call me &lt;br /&gt;at 3:45 am and wake me&lt;br /&gt;just to say&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t sleep &lt;br /&gt;Are you awake too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A woman who doesn’t know the power of silence&lt;br /&gt;and when to break it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who doesn’t expect me &lt;br /&gt;to answer to them&lt;br /&gt;without them asking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;anyone who expects me to answer &lt;br /&gt;too much&lt;/em&gt;without asking me to&lt;br /&gt;anyone who is not answerable to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;anyone that doesn’t like to be chased&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyone who wants to be brought&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;anyone who I can’t treat&lt;br /&gt;the way I see them&lt;br /&gt;If I see them as beautiful queen&lt;br /&gt;I want to take them out &lt;br /&gt;And be broke at the end of the night&lt;br /&gt;Have my arm be tired from opening every door for them&lt;br /&gt;And pulling out chairs&lt;br /&gt;And standing on the traffic side when crossing the street&lt;br /&gt;And not have it reflect &lt;br /&gt;On my security as a man&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who doesn’t give me the space to be me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anyone who doesn’t want me to know them&lt;br /&gt;And be inside their heart&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who doesn’t know love is not instant&lt;br /&gt;But when you get there&lt;br /&gt;It’s all good…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anyone who doesn’t want me to love them&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who doesn’t want to be my heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anyone who doesn't want to love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I need&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good friends&lt;br /&gt;Places to go&lt;br /&gt;Things to do&lt;br /&gt;Time to laugh&lt;br /&gt;Time to cry&lt;br /&gt;Time to dream&lt;br /&gt;People to miss&lt;br /&gt;People to love&lt;br /&gt;Friends to share with&lt;br /&gt;To feel wanted&lt;br /&gt;To feel handsome&lt;br /&gt;To feel Touch&lt;br /&gt;To smile just because&lt;br /&gt;Because I want to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I give&lt;br /&gt;Everything I have in time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111584044964351661?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111584044964351661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111584044964351661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111584044964351661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111584044964351661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/things-i-need.html' title='Things I need'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111554969958198446</id><published>2005-05-08T03:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-08T03:54:59.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Every Day is your Day </title><content type='html'>To: This poem does no justice but to Mom's every day is your day..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially those who have touched my life&lt;br /&gt;My Mom &lt;br /&gt;Ms Stephanie (You get the honorary Mom’s award Thank You for all that you do for me  and my son’s)&lt;br /&gt;Shannon and her Mom… Wish I could know U better… Stay precious&lt;br /&gt;All the Ma Ma’s at Ujamaa Skule&lt;br /&gt;All the momma’s who have grown with me through my first book and my poetry&lt;br /&gt;You helped save me many times… Faith,  Sasha, &lt;br /&gt;The List goes on.. Love each and every one of you and hope this is a beautiful day for you and just one of many...&lt;br /&gt;Christo Diata&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the Womb to freedom&lt;br /&gt;from Mom to Grand ma&lt;br /&gt;She is there&lt;br /&gt;Nurturing&lt;br /&gt;And showing the way&lt;br /&gt;that momma cares&lt;br /&gt;Each choice, each meal, &lt;br /&gt;Each step taken to work for pay&lt;br /&gt;To create the child’s fantasy day&lt;br /&gt;She is the center of the day&lt;br /&gt;Little eyes follow momma’s wake&lt;br /&gt;She is the world to them&lt;br /&gt;Each second spent in her arms&lt;br /&gt;Is like a touch of heaven&lt;br /&gt;The smells that come from the kitchen &lt;br /&gt;When she cook’s&lt;br /&gt;Ambrosia to the senses and mind&lt;br /&gt;The care she takes &lt;br /&gt;Reading stories&lt;br /&gt;Givin baths&lt;br /&gt;A child’s precious time&lt;br /&gt;For all the times I’ve said&lt;br /&gt;And for all the times I’ve missed&lt;br /&gt;I honor each of you as a Mother&lt;br /&gt;And hope every day shows you honor&lt;br /&gt;Like this..&lt;br /&gt;This Your special day..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111554969958198446?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111554969958198446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111554969958198446' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111554969958198446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111554969958198446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/every-day-is-your-day.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;Every Day is your Day &lt;/strong&gt;'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111539844176553261</id><published>2005-05-06T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-06T09:58:15.850-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lil Seed of man</title><content type='html'>If a pretty lil set of brown eyes&lt;br /&gt;Maybe three cycles of 365&lt;br /&gt;Days of knowledge in her wake&lt;br /&gt;Can See Me for who I am&lt;br /&gt;See my spirit as one of I AM&lt;br /&gt;Ask me to share my gift of words with her&lt;br /&gt;Even if only through Doctor Suess&lt;br /&gt;I can only wonder&lt;br /&gt;Why can’t she who I long to kiss&lt;br /&gt;see me too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This poem wasn't checked by my best friend &lt;br /&gt;and newly aquired love poem editor who commented&lt;br /&gt;on the last post. I snuck it out...&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111539844176553261?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111539844176553261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111539844176553261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111539844176553261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111539844176553261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/lil-seed-of-man.html' title='Lil Seed of man'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111521345800342151</id><published>2005-05-04T06:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-06T10:05:40.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>She Is I AM...</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;TO:&lt;/strong&gt; Lil Cherokee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poem of apology For the misuse of a word&lt;br /&gt;Some poet’s don’t rely on Webster to define their Use of the English language&lt;br /&gt;I am one of them.. I sometimes make up words or redefine words&lt;br /&gt;Nemesis in my poetry is used as an opposite&lt;br /&gt;Not as the commonly defined enemy&lt;br /&gt;So I apologize that Webster&lt;br /&gt;Doesn’t know what the word nemesis means&lt;br /&gt;And I apologize that anyone who agrees with Webster&lt;br /&gt;May misinterpret what I am saying when I use the word Nemesis&lt;br /&gt;So in closure I’m writing this poem&lt;br /&gt;Using the word nemesis as I intend it&lt;br /&gt;Opposite&lt;br /&gt;And if a certain very special person to me was offended&lt;br /&gt;By my words I apologize&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could buy you the huge bouquet of flowers &lt;br /&gt;But I am temporarily at an end of those means&lt;br /&gt;And must rely on words… &lt;br /&gt;So u should ask for 10 bouquets later &lt;br /&gt;to replace the one I can’t get now…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;She Is I Am&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;TO:&lt;/strong&gt; Lil Cherokee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is lil Cherokee… I am confused&lt;br /&gt;If She is love…  I am it’s nemesis&lt;br /&gt;Although I wish to be love in the end&lt;br /&gt;If She is sweet I am bitter to taste&lt;br /&gt;Yearning to mix with her and make the perfect blend&lt;br /&gt;If She is good I am evil&lt;br /&gt;Asking for forgiveness although still a little devilish inside&lt;br /&gt;If She is special I just exist&lt;br /&gt;But existence is not as special without her &lt;br /&gt;If She is beautiful well I may be a little funny looking&lt;br /&gt;But modern medicine can work miracles &lt;br /&gt;Or so they say&lt;br /&gt;If She is intelligent I am not very smart to have used nemesis in a poem&lt;br /&gt;And posted it anyplace on earth&lt;br /&gt;If She is sensitive I need to learn more about being sensitive&lt;br /&gt;Because I would never want to hurt her as my friend&lt;br /&gt;If She is strong in silence I am noisy in apology&lt;br /&gt;missing her speech &lt;br /&gt;Wishing for the utterance of syllables from her breath to begin&lt;br /&gt;If she understands the thoughts of men&lt;br /&gt;Forgive me I don’t understand the thoughts of women&lt;br /&gt;So politically correct or even perfect I may not be&lt;br /&gt;But I have brown eyes that want love too&lt;br /&gt;look into them you will see&lt;br /&gt;If She has a plan… I am clueless&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I need help in making one&lt;br /&gt;If she reads this and once smiles&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I won’t have to look so sad&lt;br /&gt;Missin her…&lt;br /&gt;And if this poem didn’t rhyme&lt;br /&gt;I am the nemesis of the rhyming of poems&lt;br /&gt;And if she never speaks to me again&lt;br /&gt;I will know pain…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This poem this excerpt came from was a closure for me…I wrote it about 4 days before I posted it… those days make a big difference… simple as making a decision…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“while I look into the eyes of another sweet ebony&lt;br /&gt;twice as beautiful as her physically&lt;br /&gt;mentally my nemesis (opposite)&lt;br /&gt;while my heart half there&lt;br /&gt;having what so many men want&lt;br /&gt;I walk the fine line of deceit”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;strong&gt;Mentally my nemesis, opposite&lt;/strong&gt;) This is not an insult I believe to a certain extent opposites attract.&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;strong&gt;Heart half there&lt;/strong&gt;) Love at first site rarely happens maybe once in a life time&lt;br /&gt;So when falling into a new love it is a slow process. When u decide if u want to go through all the pains and pitfalls that got u there and kept u there before.  Basically is it time to take the chance again?&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;strong&gt;Having what so many men want&lt;/strong&gt;) Because of your beauty I know many men envy or want that “Just for the looks” aspect of you&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;strong&gt;Fine line of deceit&lt;/strong&gt;) A line of deceit is a line I use to express the courting process when new… keeping on from heart half there… U have to go through hiding uncertainties each time you go on a date with a person you don’t know where it is going. In each courtship you know there are no guarantees or in modern dating even if a date is a sign of courtship. But nevertheless we as people go through the process of presenting ourselves in our best light, the good with no reference to the bad (a deceitfulness). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope I answered the thoughts (cause dial tones have been silent) that would lead to me getting a black eye when and If I see U… I write freestyle and brainstorm meaning I usually don’t go over my poems except for spelling.. So sometimes what I am trying to express may not come out perfect. But when it does not I will take all the hits for it and explain.  So all this in simple…&lt;br /&gt; I do like U and hope U will forgive me.  And if we do hang out again and U don’t order everything on the right side of the menu I can foresee wellll… lets get to the speaking again part first…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;TMI &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my frequent readers ( all 5 of you)no one’s been asking for poetry in a lil while so the last few posts are personal to me… I am explaining them to save me from myself and you can help too by giving me more writing assignments than I can handle… (HAVE A HEART) If you would like a personalized poem please visit &lt;a href="http://www.touchingTheSoul.com"&gt;www.TouchingTheSoul.com &lt;/a&gt;Poem for me.  &lt;br /&gt;I will be redoing the website for 2005 so expect to see changes in the near future…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christo Diata&lt;br /&gt;From Christ To Lion&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111521345800342151?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111521345800342151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111521345800342151' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111521345800342151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111521345800342151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/she-is-i-am.html' title='She Is I AM...'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111508496028383518</id><published>2005-05-02T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-02T18:49:20.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Nemesis</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;TO:&lt;/strong&gt; HER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Down and Out&lt;br /&gt;or forgotten&lt;br /&gt;one day or one life&lt;br /&gt;I remember the words of my wife&lt;br /&gt;U can’t make someone like you&lt;br /&gt;so why do they seem to ring again and again&lt;br /&gt;am I being true to myself&lt;br /&gt;cherubs bring blessings &lt;br /&gt;while I sleep&lt;br /&gt;dreams bring blessings &lt;br /&gt;while I wake&lt;br /&gt;kisses evoke memories&lt;br /&gt;smiles give birth to hope&lt;br /&gt;sweet  words show a need for sweetness&lt;br /&gt;opposites sometimes attract&lt;br /&gt;I see magnets joined every day&lt;br /&gt;while their energies are reverse&lt;br /&gt;magnets visually appear the same&lt;br /&gt;similarities&lt;br /&gt;that join on common ground&lt;br /&gt;are people the same?&lt;br /&gt;enough opposite to attract&lt;br /&gt;but with similarities in mental state&lt;br /&gt;causing them to comfortably remain&lt;br /&gt; joined&lt;br /&gt;I search for my nemesis&lt;br /&gt;If only life could be so simple&lt;br /&gt;to find the she for my he&lt;br /&gt;Positivity my guide&lt;br /&gt;I know I will one day &lt;br /&gt;never giving up on friends...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111508496028383518?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111508496028383518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111508496028383518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111508496028383518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111508496028383518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/my-nemesis.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;My Nemesis&lt;/strong&gt;'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111494536383706043</id><published>2005-05-01T03:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-01T04:09:15.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Timiin Is Everything</title><content type='html'>To: She knows just writting feelins practicing being me (brain stormin)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Packed up my hearts&lt;br /&gt;Sent them away with family&lt;br /&gt;This weekend&lt;br /&gt;Got this big old house&lt;br /&gt;To myself&lt;br /&gt;Knowing who I want to see&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks too long&lt;br /&gt;For the attention I need to show her&lt;br /&gt;So rare to have this &lt;br /&gt;Little part of the world to myself&lt;br /&gt;Brought the candles&lt;br /&gt;Brought the Zinfandel&lt;br /&gt;Put it on Ice&lt;br /&gt;Picked out the foods&lt;br /&gt;Her heart told me she desired&lt;br /&gt;Plus some to try&lt;br /&gt;I like to cook&lt;br /&gt;And Timing be everything&lt;br /&gt;Whether for the touch &lt;br /&gt;The mood or the ring&lt;br /&gt;ing of the sounds of telephones in my mind&lt;br /&gt;Fading to nothingness&lt;br /&gt;Every thing is OK I hope&lt;br /&gt;My heart fades with that sound&lt;br /&gt;Training me away&lt;br /&gt;From looking forward to &lt;br /&gt;I start the fireplace&lt;br /&gt;A lil chilly inside &lt;br /&gt;As the coo coo clock chimes&lt;br /&gt;In distant thoughts&lt;br /&gt;What was I thinking?&lt;br /&gt;I see the time&lt;br /&gt;But the time is never there for me&lt;br /&gt;Sigh &lt;br /&gt;Breaks&lt;br /&gt;Silence&lt;br /&gt;I like the smell&lt;br /&gt;Of the dinner I cook for two&lt;br /&gt;Been gifted like that&lt;br /&gt;It floats away like a dream state&lt;br /&gt;Like that type of rap&lt;br /&gt;Missin&lt;br /&gt;But somehow knowing&lt;br /&gt;it’s my fault&lt;br /&gt;Tryin to be me&lt;br /&gt;And move slowly &lt;br /&gt;dang should've went to&lt;br /&gt;Richmond&lt;br /&gt;well I call and share this time&lt;br /&gt;with a true friend&lt;br /&gt;but not my mate&lt;br /&gt;just because &lt;br /&gt;we have never crossed that line&lt;br /&gt;but she is special to me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111494536383706043?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111494536383706043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111494536383706043' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111494536383706043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111494536383706043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/05/timiin-is-everything.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;Timiin Is Everything&lt;/strong&gt;'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111482457760927339</id><published>2005-04-29T18:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-29T18:29:37.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lil' Cherokee</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;TO:&lt;/strong&gt; Shannon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lil black Cherokee got me hearin drum beats&lt;br /&gt;signaling my demise&lt;br /&gt;beat beat beat&lt;br /&gt;of my heart&lt;br /&gt;in presence of a ebony queen&lt;br /&gt;tuning my vibrations to her voice&lt;br /&gt;turnin me ON&lt;br /&gt;like I AM THE ONE&lt;br /&gt;like I am the SUN&lt;br /&gt;settling down with slow strokes of verbal massage&lt;br /&gt;sendin love messages &lt;br /&gt;viewing a time, learnin her, feelin her&lt;br /&gt;passions&lt;br /&gt;wanting them to join with... &lt;br /&gt;my passions&lt;br /&gt;I keep on lyricly singing&lt;br /&gt;maybe I’m scared, maybe I’m slow, I don’t know&lt;br /&gt;past visions.. passin on&lt;br /&gt;for what is here &lt;br /&gt;NOW&lt;br /&gt;learnin never to regret&lt;br /&gt;the cards this life brings&lt;br /&gt;dreams are built on realities&lt;br /&gt;and realities are built&lt;br /&gt;on these friendship things&lt;br /&gt;that spawn into love&lt;br /&gt;this wanting of love&lt;br /&gt;here and now&lt;br /&gt;As I release my secrets .. Will U believe&lt;br /&gt;will u believe&lt;br /&gt;I saw the sunrise&lt;br /&gt;beneath my closed eyelids&lt;br /&gt;cause I was dreamin...&lt;br /&gt;dreamin of U&lt;br /&gt;looking past your  beauty &lt;br /&gt;to see your heart&lt;br /&gt;as fragile and in need of touch as mine&lt;br /&gt;can I join with you for a time&lt;br /&gt;only determined by Us&lt;br /&gt;and where our paths take us&lt;br /&gt;Can I be on your list of&lt;br /&gt;“maybe he’s the one to end this”&lt;br /&gt;Can I etch your name next to mine&lt;br /&gt;It’ll get me locked up&lt;br /&gt;professing U as my Heart&lt;br /&gt;to explore and find&lt;br /&gt;ways to love you&lt;br /&gt;while searching for gold&lt;br /&gt;at the end of rainbows&lt;br /&gt;sunny skies&lt;br /&gt;guide me&lt;br /&gt;back to U&lt;br /&gt;sweet lil Cherokee&lt;br /&gt;Myabe My vision is blinded&lt;br /&gt;but when my eyes open&lt;br /&gt;the site of gold will be U&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111482457760927339?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111482457760927339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111482457760927339' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111482457760927339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111482457760927339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/04/lil-cherokee.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;Lil&apos; Cherokee&lt;/strong&gt;'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111449603279902180</id><published>2005-04-25T23:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-25T23:13:52.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Choc Loc Ebony 2005</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;TO:&lt;/strong&gt; She Knows... When I write love poems they are sometimes inspired by those I naturally like and places I wish to be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart  wanders in circles&lt;br /&gt;as past visions&lt;br /&gt;bring curiosity&lt;br /&gt;looking into brown eyes&lt;br /&gt;of a siren&lt;br /&gt;who stares off&lt;br /&gt;her eyes never meeting mine&lt;br /&gt;is it hypnosis I bring&lt;br /&gt;If I could have it so good&lt;br /&gt;for I am spellbound&lt;br /&gt;as her magical fingers&lt;br /&gt;weave perfection&lt;br /&gt;crowning my seed&lt;br /&gt;entwining my desire to know her&lt;br /&gt;she refers to her lover as a friend&lt;br /&gt;I refer my lover as my heart&lt;br /&gt;a friend is there before hearts join&lt;br /&gt;after hearts join the word friend&lt;br /&gt;is a form of deceit &lt;br /&gt;hearts are there to remain&lt;br /&gt;I would ask to know her still&lt;br /&gt;as I already have several times before&lt;br /&gt;even have journeyed the path&lt;br /&gt;to reach the first high&lt;br /&gt;to know her&lt;br /&gt;my high a meeting of the minds&lt;br /&gt;the journey cut short&lt;br /&gt;cut by her tongue&lt;br /&gt;before ever getting there&lt;br /&gt;as if she knew me&lt;br /&gt;her impressions wrong&lt;br /&gt;trying to create in me &lt;br /&gt;undesirable things that I am not&lt;br /&gt;an attempt to convince me&lt;br /&gt;I made a mistake&lt;br /&gt;there could never be anything there between us&lt;br /&gt;I withdraw to lick my wounds&lt;br /&gt;and heal&lt;br /&gt;I slowly learn the modern perils&lt;br /&gt;of wanting&lt;br /&gt;while I look into the eyes of another sweet ebony&lt;br /&gt;twice as beautiful as her physically&lt;br /&gt;mentally my nemesis &lt;br /&gt;while my heart half there&lt;br /&gt;having what so many men want&lt;br /&gt;I walk the fine line of deceit&lt;br /&gt;Once every full moon  my sirens’s presence &lt;br /&gt;induces me to question a past vision&lt;br /&gt;and wonder is she happy&lt;br /&gt;should I ask again&lt;br /&gt;why did she always say yes&lt;br /&gt;If there was no attraction there&lt;br /&gt;I shackle my nature and hold my tongue when in her presence&lt;br /&gt;knowing I can not just be me&lt;br /&gt;less she lay more judgement&lt;br /&gt;on who I am&lt;br /&gt;without knowing me &lt;br /&gt;I look past her hardened side&lt;br /&gt;beneath it she hides the path to her soft&lt;br /&gt;and I tire of her bladed tongue&lt;br /&gt;for in my constant self analysis&lt;br /&gt;I am my own blade&lt;br /&gt;I don’t need two&lt;br /&gt;it would make me feel less than desirable&lt;br /&gt;and I could never live that way&lt;br /&gt;I remember fate&lt;br /&gt;where she loves is her choice to make&lt;br /&gt;and she has made her choice&lt;br /&gt;I hope she finds happiness&lt;br /&gt;where ever she is with or without me&lt;br /&gt;and I look forward to the day&lt;br /&gt;I can catch the next glimpse of her&lt;br /&gt;even if in passing&lt;br /&gt;till I am drawn to my next heart of hearts&lt;br /&gt;with whom I can build my kingdom...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111449603279902180?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111449603279902180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111449603279902180' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111449603279902180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111449603279902180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/04/choc-loc-ebony-2005.html' title='Choc Loc Ebony 2005'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-111287966486224165</id><published>2005-04-07T06:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-07T06:14:24.863-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SHINE  By Christo Diata</title><content type='html'>To: &lt;strong&gt;Day Acoli&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Day rises into &lt;br /&gt;The sun&lt;br /&gt;Her voice&lt;br /&gt;Vibrates&lt;br /&gt;Her youth&lt;br /&gt;Excels&lt;br /&gt;Excellence&lt;br /&gt;Within her grasp&lt;br /&gt;To wish for&lt;br /&gt;To hope for&lt;br /&gt;To work for&lt;br /&gt;Her goals&lt;br /&gt;Seeing indescribable&lt;br /&gt;Reflections&lt;br /&gt;In the pond&lt;br /&gt;Of brown skin&lt;br /&gt;Birthed of water&lt;br /&gt;Turned into flame&lt;br /&gt;A young star&lt;br /&gt;Lighting her&lt;br /&gt;Limited universe&lt;br /&gt;With unlimited thought&lt;br /&gt;To grow&lt;br /&gt;To be&lt;br /&gt;Truth&lt;br /&gt;Among those&lt;br /&gt;Silent in lies&lt;br /&gt;Lying&lt;br /&gt;Dormant&lt;br /&gt;When ever the time&lt;br /&gt;For change comes&lt;br /&gt;They rather cum&lt;br /&gt;Than learn to fly&lt;br /&gt;So one day &lt;br /&gt;Past her birth&lt;br /&gt;Less one day &lt;br /&gt;Of a year more&lt;br /&gt;Of her worth&lt;br /&gt;I look forward to her change&lt;br /&gt;Into&lt;br /&gt;Light&lt;br /&gt;Beaconing self worth&lt;br /&gt;Just by being you…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-111287966486224165?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/111287966486224165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=111287966486224165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111287966486224165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/111287966486224165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/04/shine-by-christo-diata.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;SHINE  By Christo Diata&lt;/strong&gt;'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-110780065687473925</id><published>2005-02-07T10:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-07T10:44:57.260-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Miss Kim By Christo Diata</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;TO:&lt;/strong&gt; Miss Kim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beauty is in the eye of the beholder&lt;br /&gt;She stands in the site of her grand children&lt;br /&gt;Unmovable a vision of strength&lt;br /&gt;the one who can spoil &lt;br /&gt;Even when mommy and daddy say no&lt;br /&gt;but still be respected the same&lt;br /&gt;Her pecan tan complexion captivated&lt;br /&gt;The heart of her husband many years ago&lt;br /&gt;For twenty-two years they have been joined in soul&lt;br /&gt;A Promise kept in the eyes of God&lt;br /&gt;till death never to let go&lt;br /&gt;Her womb has brought forth&lt;br /&gt;four strong sets of eyes&lt;br /&gt;who followed in her wake&lt;br /&gt;two who reflect her beauty&lt;br /&gt;and two who were birthed brawn&lt;br /&gt;voice raised beneath distant steeples&lt;br /&gt;From echos of hymns sung in praise&lt;br /&gt;She can be seen chin raised&lt;br /&gt;The “good word” giving her perspectives in life&lt;br /&gt;To say she is one of the saved&lt;br /&gt;In that same light she serves those who &lt;br /&gt;Have been torn through daily life&lt;br /&gt;One meal and a smile &lt;br /&gt;giving them another day’s solitude&lt;br /&gt;She teaches those who will grow&lt;br /&gt;to reflect all the things we do&lt;br /&gt;She was "dependable" as a child&lt;br /&gt;but through age&lt;br /&gt;her dependence her truth and beauty have shown through&lt;br /&gt;And &lt;strong&gt;SHE IS "BEAUTIFUL"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A site to see&lt;br /&gt;A voice to hear&lt;br /&gt;A hand to hold&lt;br /&gt;And a dream come true&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Miss Kim for being you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-110780065687473925?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/110780065687473925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=110780065687473925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/110780065687473925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/110780065687473925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/02/miss-kim-by-christo-diata.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;Miss Kim&lt;/strong&gt; By Christo Diata'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-110737280756262868</id><published>2005-02-02T11:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-03T07:10:43.866-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kindred spirits </title><content type='html'>To: Chris And Mary  Washington DC&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her&lt;br /&gt;A twinkle in her eye&lt;br /&gt;As she talks bout them days&lt;br /&gt;Her pretty gray hair&lt;br /&gt;Twists briskly in the wind&lt;br /&gt;As if the wind could speak&lt;br /&gt;Of those younger ways&lt;br /&gt;When she was a princess&lt;br /&gt;Not yet a queen&lt;br /&gt;In search for &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him&lt;br /&gt;A twinkle in his eye&lt;br /&gt;As his hair line&lt;br /&gt;Has evolved &lt;br /&gt;To a reflection&lt;br /&gt;Of the wisdom&lt;br /&gt;That kept him in place&lt;br /&gt;As he grew&lt;br /&gt;Fifty-two years together&lt;br /&gt;With her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still in love&lt;br /&gt;I can only long&lt;br /&gt;For their dedication&lt;br /&gt;As she And he&lt;br /&gt;Evolved&lt;br /&gt;Into me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center" style="border-style: solid" dynamicanimation="fpAnimformatRolloverFP1" fprolloverstyle="font-family: MS Sans Serif; font-size: 14pt; text-decoration: blink; text-transform: uppercase; font-weight: bold" onmouseover="rollIn(this)" onmouseout="rollOut(this)" language="Javascript1.2"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face="Arial Black" size="5"&gt;&lt;a href="http://refinow.blogspot.com/"&gt;MD,DC &amp; VA Refinancing&lt;br /&gt;or Purchasing a Home!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-110737280756262868?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/110737280756262868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=110737280756262868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/110737280756262868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/110737280756262868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/02/kindred-spirits_110737280756262868.html' title='Kindred spirits '/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-110692432435076468</id><published>2005-01-28T06:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-28T07:04:27.393-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HER by Christo Diata </title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;To:&lt;/strong&gt; The sista from Knoxville Tennessee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She didn’t tell me her name&lt;br /&gt;Pictures of her voice reign in silence&lt;br /&gt;From the voice come pictures&lt;br /&gt;Of gentle brown eyes &lt;br /&gt;Incased in her&lt;br /&gt;Her the manifestation&lt;br /&gt;Of her mother’s heart&lt;br /&gt;Birthed in screams of pain&lt;br /&gt;No knight to save her this pain&lt;br /&gt;Reborn tears in her father’s eye&lt;br /&gt;Raised to be a queen like she&lt;br /&gt;Two joined as one&lt;br /&gt;One grown to become&lt;br /&gt;That voice&lt;br /&gt;She that voice that rings over my phone&lt;br /&gt;Like the tone&lt;br /&gt;That defines her&lt;br /&gt;I speak in spoken word&lt;br /&gt;So as imaginations sore&lt;br /&gt;Into the ebon abyss we call the night&lt;br /&gt;I send a prayer for her&lt;br /&gt;That she will be blessed in flight&lt;br /&gt;And her soul touched&lt;br /&gt;By one with brown eyes&lt;br /&gt;As deep and brown and loving as her own&lt;br /&gt;Her to be crowned queen of her home…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for asking me to write for you lady. I hope you like it.&lt;br /&gt;Please send a friend to my site so I can write for them too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.touchingthesoul.com/personalpoem.html"&gt;www.touchingthesoul.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-110692432435076468?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/110692432435076468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=110692432435076468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/110692432435076468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/110692432435076468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/01/her-by-christo-diata.html' title='&lt;strong&gt;HER&lt;/strong&gt; by Christo Diata '/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10234954.post-110606841000777933</id><published>2005-01-18T08:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-24T10:20:02.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love to the sistas</title><content type='html'>I am using this blogger to post my personalized poems to beautiful women of color... What is a woman of color you ask? A woman who is born with the relization we all come from one race. The original race which gave birth to civilization and mankind. DNA tests have proved it.&lt;br /&gt;So these poems are dedicated to beautiful black women.. whatever her shade, whatever her hue, whatever her age...&lt;br /&gt;If you have just passed by this page and wish for me to write a poem for you.. Just visit my website &lt;a href="http://www.TouchingTheSoul.com"&gt;www.TouchingTheSoul.com&lt;/a&gt; and click "Poem for you". Help me to grow as a poet and as a man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I love everyone but can not be in love with everyone. My poetry is a way to uplift beautiful women for being just what they are. Themselves.&lt;br /&gt;I hope you allow me to Touch your Soul" Christo Diata&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10234954-110606841000777933?l=touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/feeds/110606841000777933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10234954&amp;postID=110606841000777933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/110606841000777933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10234954/posts/default/110606841000777933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://touchingthesoulofasista.blogspot.com/2005/01/love-to-sistas_18.html' title='Love to the sistas'/><author><name>Christo diata</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08798312769092875535</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
