Bent and twisted is the reality that is layed
out before our generational minds.
We weave into logic this idea that is not our own.
We recycle that which is not ours.
What is original for this empty goliath called life?
This rapture of saving grace,
This tale told by an idiot,
This escape that is in fact work,
No answers, just more questions?
We all are chasing a dream that tries to fill a void
That other things had tried too fill.
We are merely gypsies scattered around the world
Trying to make sense of what we find everyday
In our lives.
We soldier on and find no answers
To what we find or ask.
May 25/11
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
How beautiful you fuck
How beautiful you fuck
Your eyes staring up at me
The hunger in your passion
How you grip, how you want it
Franticly wanting me inside
Slowly picking you up
Wrapping my arms your blissful
Form.
Sliding down and moving myself in place
Giving my everything to you
Thrusting magnificently with
Your body rhythms
Touching you softly
Being yours
Being what it is you want
Being everything you need
How beautiful
How beautiful you fuck. . .
May 20/11
Your eyes staring up at me
The hunger in your passion
How you grip, how you want it
Franticly wanting me inside
Slowly picking you up
Wrapping my arms your blissful
Form.
Sliding down and moving myself in place
Giving my everything to you
Thrusting magnificently with
Your body rhythms
Touching you softly
Being yours
Being what it is you want
Being everything you need
How beautiful
How beautiful you fuck. . .
May 20/11
Rattling around this joint
Catching the beat beat
The one all the kids are talking
About
The soothing idea, the sharp form
That castes this idea, ramblings,
Chasing the street owls that fill our
Hungry back ally's
The diners that house the ticking
Of this bomb of life
And the escape of the American dream
The rise then fall of everything
A ghost of propaganda and it's madman of society
Listen to that old junkie
Scattering truths as a media news
Writer.
It's all secrets
It's all lies
Welcome back to the twilight edge
Of forgotten roads.
May 19/11
The one all the kids are talking
About
The soothing idea, the sharp form
That castes this idea, ramblings,
Chasing the street owls that fill our
Hungry back ally's
The diners that house the ticking
Of this bomb of life
And the escape of the American dream
The rise then fall of everything
A ghost of propaganda and it's madman of society
Listen to that old junkie
Scattering truths as a media news
Writer.
It's all secrets
It's all lies
Welcome back to the twilight edge
Of forgotten roads.
May 19/11
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
This restless tossing of the mind
This restless tossing of the mind
is the rumbling of a sea gone mad
inside me.
No ore or compass to guide me
to a safe unfamiliar harbor
that labors me a ounce of solitude bliss!
my mind is the sea
it stirs. . .
May 18/11
is the rumbling of a sea gone mad
inside me.
No ore or compass to guide me
to a safe unfamiliar harbor
that labors me a ounce of solitude bliss!
my mind is the sea
it stirs. . .
May 18/11
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Conscious Of The Sort
And I was conscious of the sort
A sort of daze that captures my gaze
Was it pervaded by the void that is on my face
The sky was blue and had an amazement to it
But that sky leaves an emptiness that a heart feels
This I sometimes thought
This I sometimes feel
It was dark and it was raining
I didn't mind
The warm reality of course woke me
Gone was that ordinary dreamlike dream
Full of love and tenderness
May 11/11
A sort of daze that captures my gaze
Was it pervaded by the void that is on my face
The sky was blue and had an amazement to it
But that sky leaves an emptiness that a heart feels
This I sometimes thought
This I sometimes feel
It was dark and it was raining
I didn't mind
The warm reality of course woke me
Gone was that ordinary dreamlike dream
Full of love and tenderness
May 11/11
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