Skip navigation

It is trust of you I write
the words lost and merry
for clarity is not me,
wanting never to be so concise,
i wanted to write contrite.
I would have /will quest
for the out of focus
self mirror if only to give
me something
to do.

is a feeling
character balance intellect.
what is in modern air
neutrinos and metaphysics
Rhyming with Quantum
so willing Physics
my eyes closed,
concentrate on
the work of the wood,
drawings by tree knots
bowing infinite image
A search for form
and structure
while breathing
in justice
is in Just-us.
and as i say things
I see more and
more exterior.
Placing conversations as an another
acting as i would if i remember
that I am trying to forget.
the baby bath water.
to remind myself
personal choice,
the dark once horse,
of surviver’s
without choice
suffering the riot
of a storm’s marching
Upon peacefull parades
Cells unity.
Against Broken mirrors and bad acts.
Rumors illusions ,
the best boys in town.
conclusion of belt welts whelps,
two by four attracts
stand and take
what you cannot
fight back from,
A soreness of Equality.

Like a tree to nature ,
solid,studied, stoic,
I want /have /will
Would have/
will dance with angels.
sharing telling being
like dew
spread, clear. reason
a touch
common and quake
no presence forsakes
among to one
and gone.
What I couldn’t love.
couldn’t know.
I will/ have/ would
dance with the angles
where pinnacle peace
gave reference,
romantic idealized intriguers
without mirrors
to innocents
to tell and leave.
Like so many
, like never needed
never here.
for all had
a moment
before now,
out-toxic conclusions
will titillated blindness,
dancing with angels
as i sleep

I wanted not a real change,
No, just a little more devoted.
would have been fine.
the ways
feel like falling up
a happy cliff, it feels ,
I feel.
Substantial for being.
not a crutch
or an arm chirst needed
no wrong choice
and it is loving
what you do.
by the endth degree
you will be closer.
a room is more than a room
to hid from the world around,
a place inside and exterior
once we give up crying doubt
“negative subconscious true”
reactions, the personal Pavlov.

I never have purpose
when i write.
It is life’s life, you give it .
I stumble,
investing ever path
ideas give and take.
I should be more dictative,
and only come to the floor
when i have something to say ,
but found hardly
ever a chance.

Importance cares not
forty six year old
lives in his car.
a younger man, once
lived what he sought
each part celebrates.
this one
an endless joy
of guilt free living.

tired placements
apartments and others.
great relief art.
I was, am, will be
afraid to admit it,
it is excepting yourself
that makes you ill
and accepting your self
that will save you.

by love of the cloth humanity
silences surrounding me,
frog listening, out there,
just beyond the waiting.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: