fences, boundaries, we all need them something to keep us safe, someone to keep us safe, a way to examine ourselves to make sure we are where we need to be, fences make great neighbors… I’m starting to think this is true, how else could you be protected from the evils of this world, protect your heart!
are to cool! like i mean you can jump over them, like sheep wow sheep are wooly not think, you can make cardican and jumpers out of sheep. wow im amused. ut you cant eat sheep, its to tough, you can eat lamb though.
It was far too tall for me to see over, but at five years old, it stood for everything my parents thought I was still too young to accomplish. It was a splintery eyesore, riddled with half-pounded rusty nails, separating our propery from theirs. The first time I tried to climb it, my only souvenirs were two bloodied palms. My mother cringed at the sight of them. The susequent attempts were not much different, until finally, finally, I found a gap just large enough for me to see the world waiting on the other side.
Fences spread far and wide
Across this barren plain.
And into all their precious heads
Does seep the pouring rain.
No coat or jacket or cover still
can protect them from the spill.
well isn’t that amazing
the fence was totally locked
and it means that i can’t open it
it’s there for me to be blocked
and to be kept away from what i want
is something i know all to well
and what i’ve found is its usually better
than if i got it by myself
because without the lack of something
we’d never know it’s real power
and if i could get everything i want
well, i’d always be real sour
if the world worked the way we wished
we wouldn’t really know shit
don’t be so spoiled
suck it up
and don’t be such a bitch
I climbed over the fence that once seemed too high for me; it was of no difficulty now. The woods lay before me, and I ran as fast as I could in my black rain boots. I was a blur amongst the trees, and I knew that the faster I went, the harder it would be to distinguish me from the leaves.
How many people are forced to eat their own fences? How many do it willingly? Ultimately, the answer to this question depends on whether you count as fences the windrows of mashed potatoes some folks use to cordon off their peas from gravy, gravy from cranberries, etc.
Fences divide the common man, and separate communities from truly uniting. Also, they keep my pet dog in my backyard. So they’re good AND bad, just like anything else in this world.
We think the world is made up of a bunch of them. Like it’s so hard to understand another culture, or to live in one. Take them down. Go see the world.
fences are boundaries that can be metaphorically, and physically, I rather talk about it metaphorically. They are boundries that protect me from getting hurt. I keep away all the people that i hate and leave what i love, let them come in, because with bounderies we succed.
Fences are like walls, only friendlier. Picket fences are the friendliest. Really, though, fences that don’t have slats are a whole lot like walls – hard to see in or out and making for a confined space. Picket fences are sweet, They can act as a leaning post and guide for roses and other flowers. They can be white or brown or weathered and they still can be functional.
They say good fences make good neighbors, and I guess that’s true. But for me, it’s all about being able to let my dog outside without worry and keeping strangers from helping themselves to the veggies in my garden (which has happened from time to time).
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THIS SUCKS BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
I put fences up everyday.from my job were i paint things dry i never like looking at them they are so ugly that’s why i hate them so much so i just kick them in the butt and say get the eff off you stupid but face i hate you so much.That’s why you will never get anybody.
people build fences to keep things in. more often, they build them to keep things out. “good fences make good neaighbors,” so the saying goes. what about good conversation? building community? seeing the other as the same as you and not a threat, someone you have to protect yourself and your things from. if good fences truly made good neighbors, my neighbor never would have threatened to shoot my son.
I did not notice the creaking all that much. Well maybe a little. I guess I would be lying if I told you that the creaking gate of Simon’s fence didn’t mean anything to me. Because it did
Fences, miles and miles of straight white fences and green, green grass. The horses grazed peacefully, the sky was a soft, welcoming blue and the entire view was breathtakingly beautiful.
The fences around the property were old and worn. The shutters were weathered but hung proudly, framing the clean windows. I mounted the aged steps, worn from years of feet and boots and smiled as I raised my hand to knock. It had been years since I’d been home.
it stands between houses and behind outfields, at the edge of cliffs and at the end of roads it can keep you from your neighbors and shield you from your faults but no fence made by man can keep you from yourself
I hate pop country with a type of intensity usually reserved for truly despicable atrocities like genocide, torture, or rape. Is it warranted? No, probably not. Although I very much feel pop country is really, really atrocious therefore it ranks near the top in my list of “completely atrocious musical genres.” Even so, what should pop to mind with this word? Garth Brooks. He had an album titled “No Fences.” I wonder if that desire for limitlessness had been directly responsible for his bizarre alter ego “Chris Gaines.” It probably would have worked for him had he not started out with the status quo and established himself as freak from the get go.
like mirrors aboard, watching every move, i step over the fences and am thrown backward with the sight of yet another in front of me. I am trapped, and little had I thought myself to be free….. lol, the effects of reading too much Shakespeare. :P
Sometimes people complain about feeling trapped:
They feel alone and they’ll blame everyone around them,
but sometimes they do it to themselves.
We are our own fences.
A white picket fence. That’s the dream. Lime-green lawn and pink potted plants and the scent of roses. A fence as a border, a trim, a lovely definition of having what I want, of comfortable contentment. Not this sky-high ragged rotting fence between what I want and what I should do. One on which will tear my flesh if I cross it.
putting fences around my heart, like it will guard me. but my fences are easily opened. my defenses are few. those fences, can they even count as something that will defend me? for my heart is already broken inside these fences. why am i protecting what is already broken? because i am afraid it will be further broken until there is no way to put the pieces together again?
The fences were made to keep us in. They had been there forever, no one really knew when they had gotten there. We all knew what they were for though. There was no disputing that.
Things. All these things on the other side. I can see them, sure. But that’s all I can do. I can’t touch them, smell them, taste them even. I can’t fully experience them. All these things and I’m separated by this. The impenetrable Fence.
fences. hmm this reminds me of that time when i was living at my old house and my neighbors dog jumped over the fence and ran to me and scratched me all over my back. it was actually quite scary and i remember running away crying. this is what made me afraid of big dogs ever since that time. i would love to get a puppy, but i just can’t get myself to do that because of this past experience.
Fences are designed to keep things in, but also out. They also happen to be good for birthing kittens, as a friend of mine discovered when next door’s cat kept going into labour next to his.
I built a fence around you. I built it by myself. I didn’t do it on purpose, I don’t want to be kept out. Deconstructing a fence should never be this hard. They are so much easier to build.
I have a fence around my heart, but there is a gate, and if you ask me I will give you the key.
He breathed heavy, jumping the fences slower each time, forcing each footstep to take him further and further across the fields. At first he was just trying to get away from seeing her wrapped in those navy blue arms of another winter coat. The cold air clawed at his lungs like breathing in shards of glass. But then it mutated into something desperate, feral and angry, and he kept plowing through the snow, through the numbness, because he could not stop. He heard his demons howling in the wind and knew they would never give up the pursuit.
Fences keep you locked in. Away from the beautiful things around you. Away from what you want to be and where you want to go. Invisible fences. The kind that zap you when you dare try and leave. She’s my invisible fence. My electric shock when I go farther than she’d like. But what she doesn’t know is I found a way out. And as soon as I can I’m going to be long gone.
The fences had been broken since junior year. It was rumoured that Billy Hamshaw broke them when making his legendary run from the principal when he set the chem lab on fire. No one bothered to fix the fences out of respect for the great Billy and the day the school caught fire.
fences, boundaries, we all need them something to keep us safe, someone to keep us safe, a way to examine ourselves to make sure we are where we need to be, fences make great neighbors… I’m starting to think this is true, how else could you be protected from the evils of this world, protect your heart!
are to cool! like i mean you can jump over them, like sheep wow sheep are wooly not think, you can make cardican and jumpers out of sheep. wow im amused. ut you cant eat sheep, its to tough, you can eat lamb though.
It was far too tall for me to see over, but at five years old, it stood for everything my parents thought I was still too young to accomplish. It was a splintery eyesore, riddled with half-pounded rusty nails, separating our propery from theirs. The first time I tried to climb it, my only souvenirs were two bloodied palms. My mother cringed at the sight of them. The susequent attempts were not much different, until finally, finally, I found a gap just large enough for me to see the world waiting on the other side.
White picket fences
Were what I imagined
When I was young
When life was good
What do I have now?
White.
White lies.
Wherever is better than here.
Fences spread far and wide
Across this barren plain.
And into all their precious heads
Does seep the pouring rain.
No coat or jacket or cover still
can protect them from the spill.
well isn’t that amazing
the fence was totally locked
and it means that i can’t open it
it’s there for me to be blocked
and to be kept away from what i want
is something i know all to well
and what i’ve found is its usually better
than if i got it by myself
because without the lack of something
we’d never know it’s real power
and if i could get everything i want
well, i’d always be real sour
if the world worked the way we wished
we wouldn’t really know shit
don’t be so spoiled
suck it up
and don’t be such a bitch
© L²
I know that wherever I go, I’m bound to demolish fences somewhere. I just wish that I knew how to mend the one separating you and I.
I climbed over the fence that once seemed too high for me; it was of no difficulty now. The woods lay before me, and I ran as fast as I could in my black rain boots. I was a blur amongst the trees, and I knew that the faster I went, the harder it would be to distinguish me from the leaves.
How many people are forced to eat their own fences? How many do it willingly? Ultimately, the answer to this question depends on whether you count as fences the windrows of mashed potatoes some folks use to cordon off their peas from gravy, gravy from cranberries, etc.
white stupid boards that go around your yard. mostly ugly. they are for close minded people.
Fences divide the common man, and separate communities from truly uniting. Also, they keep my pet dog in my backyard. So they’re good AND bad, just like anything else in this world.
We think the world is made up of a bunch of them. Like it’s so hard to understand another culture, or to live in one. Take them down. Go see the world.
Gates
wire
wood
yard
grass
hurt
picket
fences are boundaries that can be metaphorically, and physically, I rather talk about it metaphorically. They are boundries that protect me from getting hurt. I keep away all the people that i hate and leave what i love, let them come in, because with bounderies we succed.
Fences are like walls, only friendlier. Picket fences are the friendliest. Really, though, fences that don’t have slats are a whole lot like walls – hard to see in or out and making for a confined space. Picket fences are sweet, They can act as a leaning post and guide for roses and other flowers. They can be white or brown or weathered and they still can be functional.
They say good fences make good neighbors, and I guess that’s true. But for me, it’s all about being able to let my dog outside without worry and keeping strangers from helping themselves to the veggies in my garden (which has happened from time to time).
fences are high in order to protect us from the monsters of the outside world;what about the ones in?
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THIS SUCKS BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
I put fences up everyday.from my job were i paint things dry i never like looking at them they are so ugly that’s why i hate them so much so i just kick them in the butt and say get the eff off you stupid but face i hate you so much.That’s why you will never get anybody.
people build fences to keep things in. more often, they build them to keep things out. “good fences make good neaighbors,” so the saying goes. what about good conversation? building community? seeing the other as the same as you and not a threat, someone you have to protect yourself and your things from. if good fences truly made good neighbors, my neighbor never would have threatened to shoot my son.
I did not notice the creaking all that much. Well maybe a little. I guess I would be lying if I told you that the creaking gate of Simon’s fence didn’t mean anything to me. Because it did
Fences, miles and miles of straight white fences and green, green grass. The horses grazed peacefully, the sky was a soft, welcoming blue and the entire view was breathtakingly beautiful.
The fences around the property were old and worn. The shutters were weathered but hung proudly, framing the clean windows. I mounted the aged steps, worn from years of feet and boots and smiled as I raised my hand to knock. It had been years since I’d been home.
it stands between houses and behind outfields, at the edge of cliffs and at the end of roads it can keep you from your neighbors and shield you from your faults but no fence made by man can keep you from yourself
I hate pop country with a type of intensity usually reserved for truly despicable atrocities like genocide, torture, or rape. Is it warranted? No, probably not. Although I very much feel pop country is really, really atrocious therefore it ranks near the top in my list of “completely atrocious musical genres.” Even so, what should pop to mind with this word? Garth Brooks. He had an album titled “No Fences.” I wonder if that desire for limitlessness had been directly responsible for his bizarre alter ego “Chris Gaines.” It probably would have worked for him had he not started out with the status quo and established himself as freak from the get go.
like mirrors aboard, watching every move, i step over the fences and am thrown backward with the sight of yet another in front of me. I am trapped, and little had I thought myself to be free….. lol, the effects of reading too much Shakespeare. :P
Sometimes people complain about feeling trapped:
They feel alone and they’ll blame everyone around them,
but sometimes they do it to themselves.
We are our own fences.
A white picket fence. That’s the dream. Lime-green lawn and pink potted plants and the scent of roses. A fence as a border, a trim, a lovely definition of having what I want, of comfortable contentment. Not this sky-high ragged rotting fence between what I want and what I should do. One on which will tear my flesh if I cross it.
putting fences around my heart, like it will guard me. but my fences are easily opened. my defenses are few. those fences, can they even count as something that will defend me? for my heart is already broken inside these fences. why am i protecting what is already broken? because i am afraid it will be further broken until there is no way to put the pieces together again?
The fences were made to keep us in. They had been there forever, no one really knew when they had gotten there. We all knew what they were for though. There was no disputing that.
Things. All these things on the other side. I can see them, sure. But that’s all I can do. I can’t touch them, smell them, taste them even. I can’t fully experience them. All these things and I’m separated by this. The impenetrable Fence.
fences. hmm this reminds me of that time when i was living at my old house and my neighbors dog jumped over the fence and ran to me and scratched me all over my back. it was actually quite scary and i remember running away crying. this is what made me afraid of big dogs ever since that time. i would love to get a puppy, but i just can’t get myself to do that because of this past experience.
Fences are designed to keep things in, but also out. They also happen to be good for birthing kittens, as a friend of mine discovered when next door’s cat kept going into labour next to his.
I built a fence around you. I built it by myself. I didn’t do it on purpose, I don’t want to be kept out. Deconstructing a fence should never be this hard. They are so much easier to build.
I have a fence around my heart, but there is a gate, and if you ask me I will give you the key.
I can’t decide…. Gypsy Fun Times, City Livin, or White-Picot-Fenced-Farm-Simple-Life.
He breathed heavy, jumping the fences slower each time, forcing each footstep to take him further and further across the fields. At first he was just trying to get away from seeing her wrapped in those navy blue arms of another winter coat. The cold air clawed at his lungs like breathing in shards of glass. But then it mutated into something desperate, feral and angry, and he kept plowing through the snow, through the numbness, because he could not stop. He heard his demons howling in the wind and knew they would never give up the pursuit.
Fences surround that part of my mind
Gatekeeping and protecting
So strong that I can’t enter
And nothing can exit
The tension keeps me here.
Fences keep you locked in. Away from the beautiful things around you. Away from what you want to be and where you want to go. Invisible fences. The kind that zap you when you dare try and leave. She’s my invisible fence. My electric shock when I go farther than she’d like. But what she doesn’t know is I found a way out. And as soon as I can I’m going to be long gone.
“She fences.”
“Really?”
I watched her lithe figure as she pulled on her coat. She had just finished drinking her coffee. My friend was eyeing her.
“Yeah,” he said. “She’s a fencer. Almost went to the Olympics, I think.”
“What stopped her?”
He laughed. He had a schoolboy glint in his eye.
“That ever career-stopping concept. What do you think?”
The fences had been broken since junior year. It was rumoured that Billy Hamshaw broke them when making his legendary run from the principal when he set the chem lab on fire. No one bothered to fix the fences out of respect for the great Billy and the day the school caught fire.