The Things I Write

"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart."William Woodsworth.

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Name:
Location: Iowa, United States

I prefer to live my life with the windows down and the radio up,with sunglasses on and shoes off and surrounded by people who make me laugh,'for i dearly love to laugh'

Friday, September 01, 2006

its been a while since i've been here

I always see the hidden beauty
Find the buried sweetheart
Gullibly believe the good.
I search a cloudy brooding sky for the only gleaming star,
Entirely work a field labeled hopeless
I seek the lost, forlorn, condemned
I repair, polish and love the unseen pleasant
Nothin is irrepairable or too ramshackle
I believe in everyone, everything, save me.
If I, the accepting, non-judging see nothing, who will see anything?
Written 2-16-06


Pang
It hits the chest and sinks
Flutter
It crosses the mind and rests
Empty.
Everyone feels the soft carress of the darkness
it begs for resignation, pleads to succomb.
It begins with broken promises and shattered dreams
lonely hearts are the first to give
Cheeks go sallow
Eyes darken
Flesh fades
Nothing is left but lonely shells.
The strong soon follow
no fight no resistance, just slowly melting
It tugs the breath, the mind, the soul
Warm inviting hands close;taking every wisp of emotion and though.
Numb
Written 2-16-06


"Ideal"
The dust from the solitary dirt road billows into the sky.
Accusingly surrounds the unaccustom strangers.
Packs of flea-ridden, tick covered,mangey, unfed dogs roam unkept.
Trash flows steadily from dumpsters spilling onto the dry street.
Windows and doors are boarded up, light poles are shot to pieces.
The yards are overgrown with weeds and grass that harbors dirty diseased bugs.
Glass smashed on the road, on the side-walk, in the houses, waits for unsuspecting barefeet.
Indian ghosts and indian culture thicken the humid hair.
Entirely nestled onto a small plot of land.
surrounded by fields and open sky providing a stark contrast.
Beautiful clean freedom and dark dirty captivity.
2-19-06

Chasing a fleeting dream
lost in the mediocre gray
Stumbling behind a secret
consumed by endless fog
Desiring a simple slice of clarity
Afraid only of crushing perplexity.
9-2-06

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

hope your posts come more often

we've missed you

8:07 PM  

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