| Just thought I would add A little Poetry to the net. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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This is a little of what I have written in the past few years.
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Singularity | The cold, steel sky of night runs to the east runs in fright. The morbid moon with a billion fighting stars above calm, coeless, flicker and dim. The two who are the one who belongs pushes the warmth beyond the horizon. Bonded, joined never to let go. Two in an entity are in a universe following nature, searching no more. What was always will always be what was meant from now on we�ll see. What you and I were before� We are I meant to be. Risen A soft glow appears My eyes they are in tears The wings of a dove A crown of gold A suit all in white But all that exists is the darkness of night A weep is heard A voice it wails Then I look back And a new angel flies off My great grand friend How he be falled How he is risen Rainy Day Thoughts As I look inside thoughts form in me. Why do I seem so lonely? My past has been of one. My future I wonder if there will be none. I have had only one best friend He some times I cannot understand. In my dreams and imagination, I see only other times and lands. I wonder if my personality is flawed. Am I so unperfect that none like me? No one at all! I have never had true love. I have felt it for one, but never received. I guess none like me. I have no one to share, my anger, feelings, loves, and fears. Will I find any one out there? I suppose I shall never know. I feel like a strange lonely affect in a cold hot desert. One solemn, single flake of snow. My future, alone will I go. August 1993 First wisdom Life is not to live but one must live life only life�s uncertainty can be full filling to those who live One must love to live and not live to love or wrongness will take those down a path of indecision The pure can love but all love the pure but pureness is not perfection One who realizes who they are and what they can do from emotions to intelligence and learning each days lesson and not letting others decide their fate is pure One can only measure oneself beauty and perfection and in that one can be perfect never live up to others others will never live up to you live up to oneself only oneself can be truthful to oneself which means oneself has the ultimate beauty no one can take away
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I hope you enjoy this. If not, I am sorry. It is just how I have felt at times.
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Wind Screams | When the wind screams night befalls the heart. A superficial grave swallows the emotions. And no question is found. No question, no answer, No emotion, just love. A genteel kiss on a fragrant breeze. Warm palms never broken And the cold fights on. Neither aware, nor want to be. No answer is needed No question to be given. All that is there Love Just Is! Despite time and immortal forces Despite cold continuously clawing Despite a gut filled emptiness, LOVE JUST IS! We now know why the wind screams. More Than A Tear Some times, Men cry for a lost ball, a child weeps for a bruised elbow, a woman sobs over love lost, the family sheds tears over a lost loved one. The world shows tears over a slain martyr. and me, I - - I don�t cry I shed no tears for days gone by nor for the last act in deaths little play. I cry non at all for charred walls where no survived within. Mine eyes shed no tears for lost souls, dead men, love lost, and yet to begin. I have no tears for I am not an eye I am the heart, the soul. All I can shed is a piece of my self. Loss �Twas the evening when I was told, the mighty heavens full of pressing stars. full of night The full moon is dark as if swallowed by the splashing waves. Yes the waves, each committing suicide, thrashing themselves against the shore, obliterating all uniqueness. The sand filled footprints a lost mold for many to follow. The stale, calm air, the sea dead. the life even deader. All I could do was add one more drop to the everlasting sea, one tear, in the everlasting sea, one tear, in an ocean of tears, all over that missing part the part that was you within me. Look Look into the deep my child and the answer shall come. Life in its entirety shall leap forth and answer all. How could one be so wrong? Life is not a book nor a poem to simply be heard. Life is neither a question with an unheard answer nor a phrase left in the wind. Life is the grace of God, the wisdom of mother earth, the greatness of man. Life is you, me, and all the world over. Life is neither pretty nor is it monstrous. Life is what we make and perceive it to be. Look into your soul and you shall see life is at the depths of you and me. Wings Go forth young bird, search the world for your destiny. You are alone and unaccepted, your life is merely fleeting in time. You are unnoticed, unheard, and unseen. You scream and no one cares. Who are you? Why are you here? The sky turns dark, the mountains grow taller, your climb is much greater, how will you survive? Death is around you, life seems lost. You struggle for freedom, but the grip is to tight. Your life was in vain. You mean nothing in this world. Death grips you, then to toss you aside. You, a fish to small to be kept. A second chance, you scream life. You, heard, seen, loved. This here before, but unnoticed to the meek. Life gave you what you already had but never knew you needed. So many care, so many love. Your life has meaning. You are dead no more. Night has brightness. You fly.
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If you have enjoyed what I have Written so far, please Email me and let me know.
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The dark moon rises. | its sleeper now awake. The spirits are drawn out, the forest dies in day. Evil has no past for a present it now lives. The bells dong twelve, �All hide!� �All hide!� A parasite of bone, hatred rides upon the fog. The cold of the air the mist penetrates the fog lets out a moan. the streets melt into darkness. All beauty lost to sin. �all hide!� �all hide!� Hell�s gates do open for he leads the way to great victory never to happen one day. To the sin inside. The souls of a thousand no where to hide. The melt away, a puddle of lost wants. The morning glow blazes peace throughout. The lost world, The streets, the walls, all restored. The souls lost forever, but the hearts stay in place. for an army of demons can never take the Holy Spirit, or its grace. � � Love is like a rose without sun light that struggles to bloom. Love is like a door locked with a lost key. Love is like a cloud which struggles to release the rain. Love is like a bird who�s nest is so fragile that is destined to be destroyed by the wind. Love is the struggles of life given to you. Not as a gift of me. But with me and you Love is like a question where we are the only answer. Man Man must earn what he has to enjoy it. Man is a creature that can never be content with what is given. The burglar can not simply steal and be content, he must plan and do painstaking deeds to feel he has earned what he has. Man was given the gift of Eden and was not content and sinned to be rejected so he could earn that grace so easily given. Man was given the world and he brought it to the edge of oblivion so he could save the world to give himself a sense of actually earning it. Man can never be content unless he feels he has truly earned what he has, from the bravest soul to the most evil of spirit, man can�t survive of gifts alone. Man must earn his place. This is why real love has downs with ups and a few thrown things. Love is unconditional, except for man who sets conditions to feel he has earned that love in another�s heart. Jolly The moon light by day as some do say, can witch two lovers apart and away. The twinkle of the sun makes a handsome star light. Passion can never see with the planets fully bright. The connection was broken many years ago. The wind lets out a moan and continues to blow. Love never found but can always be lost to a foreboding spirit and soul lacked away. To look forth and be blinded by the light. Never to know the path of life�s true way. �History Repeats Itself� I come to a place where history once stood. It was a clearing in a forgotten piece of woods. Two paths once again diverged their direction unknown. I took a path, I stepped before I moved. I always tried to look ahead at what was once but no more. I followed the feet of many ages, the adventure and life was still there. I often, though, wonder, and now I know I am right. "Awake in class?" in birth there is no newness a combination of what shall be death is not endless only a beginning life is class room where the clock never hits three always alert the teacher suprises every day Listen well to what I say, �Children, Mr. Frost was right.�
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