X is for Xylyl Bromide.....

Ha! Bet you though there wouldn't be a poison for the letter 'X'....

Xylyl bromide is a highly toxic compound used during World War I as a tear gas.

The compound is extremely dangerous and can be fatal if inhaled, swallowed or absorbed through the skin. So, it's best to avoid any exposure to the compound whatsoever.

Oh, and I'll leave you to play with the pronunciation of Xylyl.... :-)

Why Cry

I promise, Sarge, I ain't a-cryin',

there's something in my eye.

Don't think I'm weak and sighin',

I know there is no 'try'.

I'll be in form in just a minute,

can't be left to fall behind.

I'll prove my place and be in it.

Got a tissue for my eyes?

--- e.a.s. demers

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A to Z reflections....

Another A to Z challenge comes to an end--- another collection of posts and poetry have been written, another deep breath of relief is released. For my fellow bloggers that survived as well, it's another 'challenge-completed' notch carved into the writing desk. I've come to enjoy my yearly foray into the world of all things alphabetical. This was my third year, though it was only the second year I had a workable theme (which made the challenge substantially easier than the first year I attempted this challenge.) And, though my first year was difficult because my focus was so scattered, I found this year was more difficult because I lost the enthusiasm that came with the first year excitement----excitement which helped me plug along until the end of the challenge. Year 3 was a success in the sense that I completed the challenge, though, this was the year that almost wasn't---- Somewhere about a third of the way through the challenge, I seriously considered

A million lives, beneath a single sky.....

Though our feet leave different prints,our tongues sound different words, there's a mirrored rhythm in the beating of our hearts. Though born in different worlds, our eyes sharpened 'neath different moons, there's an unspoken truth in the warmth of our touch. We may walk in different strides and dream different dreams, we may speak in different voices, maybe swim in different streams. It's plain to see, when dark night falls, as all the stars shine through, that underneath it all, there's no difference 'tween me and you.

Bitter Honey

Weaving dreams of beguiling gold, a future's price for happiness. What secrets do you, determined, hold? asks the summer wind's soft caress. A guarded name, a hidden hope. Spinning wheels clutching time, grasping straw that falls away, What dreams may come, we soon may find, won't recall at end of day. A cherished life, a memory lost.

From the Inkwell, From the Vein.....

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