• 950 replies
    marye
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    May 26, 2007
    By suggestion, a place for the poets among us to post their words.

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  • January 2, 2021 - 6:04am
    Mohitvermaji51
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    December 30, 2020
    thank

    thank for that :)
    https://mybk-experience.onl https://www.mc-d.uno/mcdvoice/

  • August 16, 2020 - 5:59am
    free idea 72
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    August 16, 2020
    From touch to touch

    Each moment individual separate, never touching.
    A space, a breath, three sneezes, and a bless you.
    Pristinely rough, the challenge is that
    Nothing ever happens.
    Free and clear, nothing touches you,
    Nothings touching me.
    In golden light fading, we watch
    Our faces becoming drawn,
    Revealing parents and lizards and tigers inside.
    The heart is like cement.
    Oh so easy to get harder and harder,
    Until the only solution is to
    Take a sledgehammer to it,
    And smithereen it back into tenderness.
    Ive missed being here, its good being back,
    Although being forced back into the
    Digi world was unwelcome, here I is back in it.

    Lots of love, be strong and upright for the people
    Around you to be supported by.

    Andy

  • June 24, 2019 - 1:13pm
    mhammond12
    Joined:
    September 15, 2009
    Thanks for that. Really hit…

    Thanks for that. Really hit home with a lot of stuff I've been going through. Now pass the Kleenex box please.

  • June 21, 2019 - 11:38am
    slo lettuce
    Joined:
    July 20, 2012
    Dear Dennis

    Made me cry like a baby too. Beautifully written life experience.
    And Congratulations on your 40 yrs with your loved one! That's no small feat.

    Take care
    Joe

  • June 21, 2019 - 6:47am
    Dennis
    Joined:
    November 1, 2012
    Slo Lettuce - Bangin' Away

    Hey Man, kiss off. First thing in the morning, not even a cup of coffee in me and now you got me crying like a baby. I don't need this.

    Thanks, that was really nice. Very true. This September will mark 40 years with my wife. Talk about a long strange trip :-)

  • June 20, 2019 - 5:14pm
    slo lettuce
    Joined:
    July 20, 2012
    Making Love

    Not a poem, but beautiful nonetheless:

    In the seventies, you and I called it "having sex" or just "doing it," and we did it wherever and whenever we could: in the shower, on an air mattress in a tent, in saggy beds in cheap motels.
    Somewhere in the eighties it became making love. Our honeymoon lovemaking was the best ever: in a real bed with no one to interrupt us. We were going to do this forever. In the nineties we did it on a schedule: calendars and thermometers and keeping track. After the babies, making love meant keeping promises. It was as routine as you putting on the suit and tie and shaving every morning, and me doing laundry and having dinner on the table every night.
    The babies grew up and left home.
    After 2005 making love was you saying I was beautiful even though I was vomiting and bald, and my skin was gray.
    In 2008 it was your turn. Sex was out of the question. Making love was me changing dressings and cleaning the drainage tubes as gently as I could.
    By 2012 making love was just this:
    lying beside you, our hands touching knuckle to knuckle;
    smiling and crying; letting the morphine do its job;
    saying good-bye.

    - T.M.

  • August 25, 2018 - 8:34am
    Orian Dylencia
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    May 28, 2015
    A New, Clear, Holy Cause?
    Pompeo erupted when told to hit the road. Korea will be m*a*s*h*d if Trump unlocks and unloads.
  • August 22, 2018 - 1:52pm
    Orian Dylencia
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    May 28, 2015
    Feel For The Refugee (continued)
    Empathy is not pathologicalAs refugees run from the gangster’s wrath They support an aging demographical So immigration is a logical path. There’s a cost to Costa Rica When hunger hounds El Salvador Where’s the salvation for Guatemala In the clamor for our vice amor. We once beckoned with a beacon Now we behave so insecure When we grow older and weaken We will have wished more help were here. Our history has an oft whited bend As the land turns a little more brown Once natives were bled and branded red men But that’s past dark for those northern bound.
  • August 16, 2018 - 3:38am
    Orian Dylencia
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    May 28, 2015
    Women Rule
    Sadat with Begin and Gandhi ‘fore KingNations lost foundations to peace building But harmony isn’t how we or the world sing And blood’s still gushing like hot water springs. Bet on wise women for peace to have a chance Before the puppet does his shadow dance They addressed advantaged deviants’ advances Now give them a hand so each life enhances. Denigrated and denied for far too long Women aren’t playing good old boy songs Deeming to undo what the men did wrong Because man’s fighting unless doing bongs. Today’s woman will bring this cabal to tears Sweeping in souring deals ‘til the swamp clears Fair ladies will help to rebuff four gone years With a peace from justice and the touch to fear.
  • August 13, 2018 - 1:06pm
    DanielSpace
    Joined:
    August 13, 2018
    )
    All true - immigrants are not the enemy.
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take your pills swallow them whole and hold them in your stomaches fist fast and strong and pull them down deep into the well of your soul and let ‘em go
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the blurred vision distorts what is outside and not what is in but the light refracts and lies and what is in is not what is right bu it might get stirred and blurred and spat back at us, bad habits, and the things that are true just cigarette butts crushed under dirty ashy sole
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hooks for hands sitting smiling smoking passes the joint from metal hook to fleshy hand his box of false flowers resting on expensive coffee table. he goes outside and is home for a while, and he smokes in his house but keeps it meticulously clean inside the outside of his home and back in my living room assholes spew out words while outside inside his house hooks for hands sells false flowers but speaks the truth for free
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Sniff snip stick-shift shlock,Shuddering schlong-slobbering, salutitious Saracen's soul-smattering snatch-scathing salubrious saponification....speed! Masticating mindless mandibles meticulously matriculate mindless masses, mandating more classes. Fat asses, seat plaster, faster faster fornicate... Love lost, spines tossed, what the cost, look who's boss. Halitosis Hallelujah, How the Hell are ya! Spectral expediency want more wait and see... Serve it up, swerve it up, stick it up, slick it up. Pestilent platters, Nothing else matters. World-whacking, mind-cracking, ass-jacking, shit-sacking, Lip-smacking, fresh packing. Wal Mart, war world, Internet porno, little girls. Wise-cracking ass-smacker Constitutional hijacker. Crack-smoking whore-poking, hometown loser mind-rot boozer. Camelot, came alot, who got shot, compost pot. Transsexual hermaphrodite, Natural Born Killers, Michelob Lite. Plaster-caster, alabaster, Masturbator of Disaster.
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There's just nothing like walking through the backroads of a rustic old town in the rain.Nothing rivals it, except maybe wandering through the deserted aging warehouse/cannery district of a rotting metropolis like SF. Maybe it's the smell of the rainwater soaking into the old rotting timbers or the old tar smell of the road which the rain magically brings to life again. But the rain is an integral part of it all. Drip drip drip, and it's all comming to life; like some supernatural elixir trickling down to where the spirits are lurking within; Reincarnating them to live for a time in the shadows. You can feel them then, if you have a soul, there's a depth of feeling that transcends the senses; Surrounding and enveloping you, adding multiple layers of time until the density becomes almost palpable. Whoever thought that old tar and rotting creosote soaked timbers could hold lifeblood within them? But it's more than that; more than the rusty iron railings and smooth rail tracks. There is a tangible residue of things done and times past here. There's a warmth of human blood. There's a feeling of things accomplished and an assurance of continuance. And lurking beneath it all: The strong thoughts of someone before seem caught in the chinks and cracks of the walls, teasing to be thought again; To be recycled in the places that bore them.
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Perhaps---Pathetic wanderings in lonliness oneOnly------Only seeking Lonely-----Lonely in heart without sun Exhaust---Exhaust in intellect reeking Mad--in---Mind speaking I see-------I see a lie, a lack of any sum Catalyst---Change remain mum
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Roving dark masses eat light,Morphing procession never lingers. Streamers flying, fat underbellies soaking up sound. Spoon floating, canned heat...showing some, most not. Shades to keep out the sheep. Wet work for the pros fixes the intrepid and the soft. Jam happy tune toys and bill loads tie most, Buy and sex the rest. Fly 'em low and test the works. Freak the civs ha ha ha...
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what happened when the sea swallowed me whole and salted me through slowing time and speeding events that shaped my life while I was preoccupied with fixing my shoes
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can’t stop scratching itching bitching and calling out loud the pain in my brain bursting forward and out through never stilled eyes that burn like ice feels nice then itch and scratch and bleed straight through until skin becomes a burden constricting conflicting and it has to be removed
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Clattering chime mumbles as myriad breezes blow.Clunk chitty chunk, clunkety clunk. Numb noggin knockin' against knee, Memories turned to dust and spider sacks. Chug chug chug, hill thug inhales deep Then smoke curls through lonely eye sockets. "Wanna dance punk?" Spinning cord holds it for now. Boo woo woo, old dog grumbles and farts, Spasming, dreaming, pawing wood pile, Fat tick still sucking as legs dissappear. "Fuckin' bug!" Thick fingers pop it like a grape And leave it dangling for amusement. Greasy dust cakes old bike parts with years of intended use. Lost lipstick case fills with dirt to adorn lips already covered. Piney breeze stirs carpal strands to aimless tickling While numb noggin knocks out of time.
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(words will probably change a few times before all is said and done. . . ) Clouds blocked out the sun today Like they did the day before Now the world's a little colder Since you walked on out the door Guess I should have seen it coming They're right though, love is blind Thought for sure we'd make it Never dreamed I'd be left behind Heartache seems to follow me Love's here and then its gone Well the hardest part of losing you Was finding me alone What am I gonna do now Can't face another day Wondering how it all went wrong And why you went away Now the bed's so cold and empty And my pillow's turned to stone Yeah the hardest part of losing you Was finding me alone
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I smiled inside...I finally got a ride it was a bus all filled up with heads they looked me over and checked me out and I just smiled behind the guy in the back was eagle eyes cautious the girls up front took my pack my black pocket tee says nothing about me my pants are dull and brown, the road is all they've seen... but my boots, my boots, steel toes and, brown leather, epoxy and glue and sheet metal screws...and soles I cut out of cork from the bulletin board...they're covered in salt water and blood and tears and grease and diesel and sand and mud...ash and humus and dog shit too, oh yes, my boots will tell stories to you... it didn't take long I knew the words to all the songs and they knew the words to my soul the bus rolled on to where I was goin' and my mind reeled out of control it went this way and that with significant facts hey dig this man, until thwack... that awful familiar sting it was the guy in the back he gave me a whack a flat handed smack like something I'd felt somewhere before I stood there in shock as the tears welled up and caught a smile out of the eyes in the backs of my feet it wasn't a whack, or even a smack it was my brother from my dead family
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(One of my favorites. Maybe one day I can get the recording online. . . ) As the four winds slowly blow away The leaves all run While the palm trees sway Pacific West Coast holiday Like the river flowing Up to the sea Some force of Nature's guiding me There's no need to run Run and hide We'll stand alone and side by side Watch the river flow Pacific West Coast holiday Two weeks have gone Now the time has passed We're not the first and We're not the last The play has surely lost its cast Its time to go Farewell my love don't you cry no more We'll meet again On those distant shores And there again We'll laugh and we'll play Pacific West Coast holiday
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Round rain is always rain.Medulla oblongata is always brain. =================== moc.swencigolyzzuf.www ===================
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Creating, light from the darknessShining, this is who we are Growing, falling down and getting up again, and again Searching for our God Glory, from the mountains to the sea Beauty, on everybodies face Holy, is the way I feel when you hold me TELL ME, do you believe in Love? Waiting, for the liberating force to call on me, and finally set me free Going, to a land of everlasting love, and peace Where everything's OK Glory...
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Firefly
This is not for the squeamish and those afraid of dark, Afraid of gone to new day like fireflies without a spark, Those rubber ducky babies with silver spoons all tucked in bed, Hyena howling tiger lillies stretched waiting for the dead, Wooky bearded babas squatting in the dust smoking head.
This is for the hurried few dragged along by teams of dogs, Stuck beside heart’s ditch of mud cast ashore like driftwood logs, Sand strewn nymphs red ball bounce upon the beach, New York bound cats grin ants stuck in their teeth, Bowler capped boys chuckling tweak the beast.
So come all ye’ hula hooping maidens gamboling on the lawn, Frogs a’courting moonbeams and velvet painted dawn, Silver saddle stirrups and guitars made of rain, Wing footed fleet streeters dancing out the pain, Tree hugging butterflies with no need to explain.
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Writer for the Zen Tricksters, Pozzy Ghuru, The Dave Diamond Band, The Mighty Underdogs and others.....Billy Capozzi (Poem of the day guy)...will be reuniting with his band (that has played and recorded many times with Buddy Cage on Pedal Steel (from New Riders of the Purple Sage) "FINALLY BALANCED," at Lefty's in Long Island, NY on JUNE 21ST for the first time since 2003. The intense poet of improvisational feel is coming into town from the California desert where he's been working on sounds for tv and movie gigs to NY for the first time since he left in 2004. You don't want to miss this! For information call 661-972-0907, or, 661-406-2806 .......
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every day I awake quaking fire heartknowing that I'm part of the heavy soul existence of God, Ja, Jehova I'm just a lover, but society keeps getting in my way everyday it happens I'm learning that I can't escape raping me of what I am I'm just a lover and, society keeps getting in my way everyday I feel the pain draining energies/pure ache I'm just a lover, but society keeps getting in my way
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the engine room, a safe place; it’s where I’m supposed to be. nobody complains when I’m working, except maybe the chief. and nobody cares about him, he’s just a fat old version of me. but I can’t find the door to where I used to be. so what happens now? we’ll just have to wait and see.
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You know the darkness of the nightIs overcome by the light And the bondage caused by fear Is released when Love shines clear May you find, some peace of mind Just don't give up, keep looking up And climb The clouds they come, with tears of rain And then the sun shines down again These tears they make us grow We shed our skins and then we go On to find, some peace of mind Just don't give up, keep looking up And climb And like the moon we're born a-new And grown until we become full Then slowly, we fade away So let your lovelight shine today And then you'll find, some peace of mind Just don't give up, keep looking up And climb
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Endangering the worlds supplyLavish carpetbaggers exploit loopholes, their actions are backed by real bullets. Shoot the messenger, god died for you so you can now again die for it. The trailer park monarch of skin head shampoo Feels commercially betrayed by the failed expectations of rebellious imports. Organizing the common protest for a free lunch, picking over the bones of a lower degree of public response. Lets get complicated, politicalizing the policy. A freewill condition is naturally pious with enough authority to satirize the tragic. Capitol turmoil, Dixie privilege, harmful as the wrong law. Negative news, lets do noise, that's a violation of patriot commitment? The basic world condition, the neighborhood pipeline, eminent domain. In the year of martial law it's all about maintaining the infrastructure. Without warning or indication the nation changed. The madmen's dress rehearsal is a matinee at the empire museum. Titan crusade plays off of contemporary fears The physiognomy of weaponry Fills the country with voter apprehension. Puppets pull their own strings, their secrets are used against them. Primeval warriors are again the cruelest, forever praying with attitude. Global unemployment, underground economy, a subcultures industrial ghetto. They turn their the children over to the institution, then turn their family over to the reconditioning. Who controls the images, the illegal expressions, the state of the art is the art of the state. The updated monopoly game has a hotel on ground zero. Offering the oppressed only more oppression Presidential wealth diminishes the ordinary, while denigrating the common.
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JerseySchwartz!********************************** Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone, you will still exist, but you have ceased to live. Samuel Clemens
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Obedience holds a twisted cross of self righteous interpretation.Think small it fits your personality. Those who have nothing to offer the public dialog, confuse the revisionist. Forsaken advisors, seduced by the beauty of the beast Are being taking advantage of by those who oversee their own worst enemy. Remaining afraid of what can’t be manipulated. Guaranteed minimal transparency, the mediators randomness lacks warmth. Regrets are individual, not political. Shaking hands with their evil twin, aggressively reasoning their sense of priority. Denied the access to prove a professional responsibility Rationalize a changing world, they openly offer servitude That's despised for the wrong indication, while honored for the wrong warning. Desperate technology, a broken map, tributes of oil Impersonal percent of citizen influence hangs on a popsicle stick crucifix. Martyr's master a difficult opportunity to pacify innate abstracts of being By living the way of those who must. Prove themselves- By rebelling against the terms of this nations court appointed theocracy.
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wow, peakin that strikes deep chords with-in,very nice and thx! and jerseyswartz, i like the way you think and write, pleeze more spewing forth of taloned word thrusted towards au THO r I zed op PRESS i ON of the mindnumb instant gratification masses swaying in front of the i got mine now i want yours ticks feeding on the underbelly of the beast we call home... well said, well spoken peace
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blintzes sparkle inside twined marshalled cabinetssprinkles and frosting coupled with barbed sugar disasters municipalities fail in the clutch of the drip one for the agents and the scribes portals into frozen shark-muscled wings no trails to dessert nothing to follow | Wait until the veil is shredded, then reveal it |
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Watercolor glint, intricate as the Vespers templateLiberates its aspect of daylight. Cerulean particle, solitude Orb at stationary form. Mind to mind, the simplest of light enveloped the purest of silence. The mystic anomaly dissolves its ethereal obstacle. Stubborn illumine interacts alongside the paradigm of our illuminant characteristics. Ah actualization, perpetual focal point, neutral projection. Suffused disappearance in the distance, guided through a charged ion of transformation. Incessant after-fade, what's left to be rearranged ? For this transparent hint, invisible clue, redeemed in a great sense of nothingness. Drift, harmonious nuance, epoch of the light, recoiling cerulean fury. Innate presence, hidden in a delicate rain, resolved to be as a tears' Individualized sense of oneness, as if time itself, returns unto it's original form. Elysian ever present, plays hide and seek amongst two sparrows. Integrated similarities, cultivated common ground. Here forth acknowledging the inner spirit's beginnings, the outer soul's continuation.
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I looked at life as I was walking down the trailSearching for the Secret that would finally lift the veil Through the pines, to a ridge out in the sun The river down below me said "Be forever young" And as the wind blows through the trees It whispers there's a world that is still free The eagle cries, and suddenly you see Ain't that the way it's supposed to be
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I hate you more than I hate my enemiesI hate you more than I hate my opponents I hate you more than I hate my adversary I hate you more than I hate my rivals I HATE YOU BUT..... WHY I STILL LOVE YOU? ________ :- )
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We love you too!
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I thank all of you who have posted on this forum. It's great to see all the flowers of creativity. Interstate Samhain Blues The rolling view from the car window mimicks the clicking of an antiquated sixteen millimeter motion picture movie projector. It's playing a bizarre B-rated horror flick dreamed up by a weaning neophyte from the jack-o-lantern's teat. An all saints chorus of cirrus and sun sprays Segrada Familia magentas of flame that melts the crystalline vapor of an Itascan morning flowing into the Mother American river. [yes, I know. It's a road song like BTW :)] The barren cornmeal soil forgotten by the harvest, yet familiar to summer's ghosts expose tricks and treats to the hard pressed rock candy, salt water taffy of the earth. They're wearing yesterday's masks, hiding in homes all saccharin bloated on waxy candy corn dreams, and trying to atone for the sins loaded with artificial colors of red, white and blue. Yellow dye no. 5 stains the road east with it's jaundice justice. The second half of electricity's sigh is the pentagram spokesman, a skilled vetriloquist of warfare might. America has become a puppeteer who's lost control of the marionette, a Potomac Pinocchio of Bush, Cheney, Powell, Rumsfeld and Rice. (poem c. 2005) Yellow dye no. 5 stains the road east with it's callous cowardice. An alternating current of citizen thought should mold marzipan martyrs from America's backwaters. If not, the blistered sun will be eclipsed in crude blackness, bloodened with a viscosity similar to the caramel upon the golden apple that hides the razor blade we all must swallow. The eye of the hawk performs helixes on the heartland horizon. It zeros-in on the military snake bleeding from the apple's blade and soaking in Eden's perpetual rain. Lazarus is walking, adorned with bandages to cover Hades' transgressions and the lacerations of Cerberus' rage. Lazarus is talking of a reversal in fortune. In three days we'll be dead, sans ascension. The desert storm troopers are painting their own Hieronymus Bosch imitation. "War on!", is an erroneous Bush insinuation. Soldier sacrifice bloats the U.S. economy with artificial colors of truth, might and heady delusions of prosperity that even Mark Twain coudn't fathom. Hannibal waits with elephant bombs to whitewash our faces and brainwash our Huckleberry dreams of lollipop rivers and Pollyanna prairies. The American dream is an illusion of exclusion from the rest of the world. Globilization is the world's affliction of the American predatory zombie engulfing anything with a pulse. The sarcophogus is empty, so the indigenous shamans are concocting potions of protection from the top-of-the-food chain mummy who believes wisdom is in the brain. Bottlenecked in Coca-Cola corporations our cheetah capitalism is on a sorghum grass safari, soon to climb a tree and die a slow, molasses death. The technological spider has spun it's web and forgotten about the agrarian barn that's shelters it's lattice haunt. The road reels on, and as I exit the heartland passed the Arch and the river Styx, I see Charon's ferry churning south. The sign reads 'no vacancy'. All is ready to engorge the Mardi Gras meat of debauchery and sin. I shiver my last polar chill and feel the chemotherapy fever of the ever closer latitude of cancer. The tropics warm with leucocytic power. A hurricane is no longer just a drink you order in the French Quarter. Mother Nature's archery rivals that of the new rising Orion. I cover my eyes. The veil is too thin. The dependence upon Earth's black death, and the subsequent wars to establish pallbearer status, has made the corpse bride of the widwower soldier all to familiar with her own death. When her man comes home as a letter shroud in the army lieutenants' words of solace, describing her as a newborn daughter of America, she touches her belly knowing more than he says. The Liberty Bell's crack is the cause of it's own ineffectiveness. Our Graceland is no longer a new frontier of mountains and valleys carved of glacial melt and thrusting magma. We have exhausted the wilderness paradise. It rivals the ruin of ancient Memphis, choked with barbed wire fences and bled dry with concrete needles that replace Earth's plasma with embalming fluid of unknown consequences. Until our streams of consciousness can set new courses toward oceanic thoughts with tsunami magnitudes, we'll be stuck on the Land Between the Lakes surrounding doldrum marshes of methane, peat and rotting carcasses. Our media heroes and technological warriors are dressed in camouflage and performing marches for the lofty feats that democracy promises. The tug of war of the two-headed snake, in lands of asbestos dust, suffocates tolerance like a creeping radon death. America's AC/DC, worldwide, iridescent glow sits in a spinning limbo, like the dark side of the moon, when viewed from Olympus Mons. Shadowed in the harvest moon, pumpkin-hued light, a feared new Tartarus, just a part of our collective consciousness and a synaptic firing of the new world brain reaches Mars upon Mercury's wings. On the war planet of the celestial pantheon, A false idolotry of a mysterious god suffices alien criterion and a new, foreign religion is born, adding to the hodge-podge of public opinion. Alas, my metaphoric muse just makes me another minion of our current controversy, another Mary Shelly fantasy reiterating the spiral energy of life immemorial. The saints and souls wearing masks of science and ritual or mystery and chaos are singing the same chant from behind the veil of Cronus and Christ. They're dethroning the old with knowing grace, celebrating the monarch of chrysalis faith and dancing a jig of universal taste. As the clock strikes midnight on a new day, month, year and century our ancestors are urging us to plant a golden apple tree worthy of Atalanta's ruse by Aphrodite. *I know it's a bit long, but I hope you all enjoyed it. ......And there were days I know when all we ever wanted was to learn and love and grow.
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There you go, movin across the waterThere you go, turnin my whole world around
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Warning: levity ahead We're just a bag of skin and bones Amino acids and chromosomes Made to think, and built to roam A mystery that's ours on loan We've evovled since time unknown Planting seeds and throwing stones Then we learned to write and read The written word began to feed Whatever light shines within you If it's for Love I'm with you too It's nice to have something to do Come walk with me I'll walk with you And in the end we'll know the truth I hope we find fountains of youth Till then I'll live day to day And hope for you to walk my way
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very nice to see all this beutiful poetry ,, keep up the nice work of words folks .. it is amazing just how far my suggestion for this forum has gone .. i need to post more of my words soon .. Take care everyone !! Peace and sunshine to all !!
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Play Silly Putty on guitar! G-Em-D-C with a reggaeish feel.
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Two times through each verse, right? Sorted! Fun and bouncy! Conversation is always more interesting than recitation, so speak your mind and not someone else's.
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Plenty of room for jammin too. Thanks for trying it. And a big thanks to Stuman for suggesting this forum. My favorite.
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I have long hair and I just don`t care watch out for that bear I must say do you see the tree`s sway we better stay away from here is what I hear for the great beast has no fear don`t you hear what i say look at the tree`s sway we better stay away from here for the great beast has no fear. 4-7-08
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in the shadows of the moon I heard a great boom like the sounds of thunder coming from down under I stand and wonder what kind of blunder could posibley come from down under could this just be thunder ? do`es this make you wonder ? 4-7-08
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Stuman!!!!!!!!!!
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There is day, and there is nightThere is wrong, and there is right Some find peace, while others fight, oh yeah In the cities, and in the towns There are smiles, and there are frowns Some see the priest, I'll take the clowns, oh yeah You'll be up, and you'll be down You'll be lost, and you'll be found Look for Love, it's all around you, yeah There is sunshine, and there is rain There is laughter, and there is pain May your love, always remain, oh yeah All I see is illusion, the hands of man have built Don't give in to confusion, or be haunted by guilt, oh yeah
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a dream is only a dream or is it for life is the aftermath of our dreams and our dreams keep us in the fullest of life a man must dream or he will never achieve almost all we do are the reflections of a dream
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14 years 3 months
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7/27/08 Sunlight splatters Nothing matters Without Love Take me and awake me Don't forsake me With your Love And I'll try, to do the best I can To get by, and give ourselves a chance It's time to make a plan And leave it up to Love Jam Reason tattered I've been captured By your Love Give your dreams A set of wings And give yourself a shove And you'll find, that the world was made for you If you try, there's nothing you can't do So to your heart be true And let Love see you through
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14 years 7 months
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my head is throbing my head is pounding I try to smile but can only frown like being a sad clown I can not shake this frown as my head keeps pounding I continue my frowning and the twinkle in my eye`s starts to slowley die drownding in my oun tears 8-5-08
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14 years 11 months
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so sad...turn that frown upside down :) Nothing left today but smile smile smile..... I hope your migraine's gone!!
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14 years 7 months
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Thank you very much !! Thank anyone else who may be sending positve vibes !! it`s gone for now but Doc. said it could come back anytime ,, hope it don`t ..
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14 years 6 months
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when I was in a deep, dark place. Don't know what made me think of it today. It has music as well. You wake up all alone and remember that they're gone and you have to wind it down. It's not the same old place, it's missing another face and you have to wind it down. You know you hate this part hoping for something to fill the void. Try to find another way to deal. Then waves of dread come crashing in reminding you that pain is very real. The empty pillow there you toss it in the chair cause you have to wind it down. They won't be coming back their life is on another track and you have to wind it down. Staring blankly into space try to focus anywhere but there. Searching for a sliver of the sun. It doesn't help to scream again no respite from your life that's come undone. You sort through some old things and fight back the tears they bring cause you have to wind it down. Sad, and all alone. So sad, because they're gone and you have to wind it down. Conversation is always more interesting than recitation, so speak your mind and not someone else's.
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15 years
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i sense a dark rocker with spiraling leads
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15 years
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That "wind it down", really nice.