Over, there, is, there, beauty
Shine, sun, is, she, know, I
Light, a, I,her,in, see
With, essence, she, perfect, shines
Spell, I’ve, under her, fallen
My hand, she’ll, take, pray, I
Existence, my, very, she, is
Her presence, without, I’ll die
Myself, to touch, can’t, bring, I
Fear, I, she, not, will, see
Belong, with, that, I, her
With, she, belongs, and me
Her soul, I wish, in all, finds joy
Pain, I know, feels, she
Power, if God, in me, possesses
Swear, I, happy, she’ll be.
Would, we, love, called, be
Live, I, bliss, would, we, know
And, free, perfect, we’d, be
One, two, made, halves, whole
Ship, is, sea, and, I am, she
She, is, I, arrow, as, bow
Dark, light, I, as, she, is
She’s Juliet, and I’m Romeo
Friday, August 26, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Happiness
I am truly happy when I’m…
- Breathing (and nothing else)
- Watching Rain Fall
- Walking through Grass Barefoot
- Watching Sand Trickle through the Palms of My Hands
- Drinking Coffee
- Smelling the Scent of Old Books
- Listening to Sleep by Eric Whitarce
Friday, September 3, 2010
Dream Keeper
Let that page come out of you?
Then, it will be true.
Me? Not so.
I sing and pray in poem, I never yet perform.
I write the text and breathe the passion, yet never voice mine born.
I? Not I. I tread angels’ wings and under beetle’s feet,
But walks like normal a man across Poe’s brittle beach.
I spit thirst at God and ponder thoughts of fools,
But seldom will I deliver script from my poor weary soul:
The waters of my dreary heart stir in expectation
Of things of past, things to come, and bodies in participation
Nobody in particular, I’m the newest breed of mortals.
I cower under peasants, and tower over royals.
I breathe, think, and meditate on silly aimless thoughts.
I care not of love, yet practice every instant.
I have endless wit; will never choose to use it.
My greatest sin, I never seize the moment.
I spend more time pondering the thoughts of you more than the thoughts of me.
I stare at walls, pray in dreams, and flirt with inner freedom.
A shield, I don’t see you, you don’t see me.
Then, it will be true.
Me? Not so.
I sing and pray in poem, I never yet perform.
I write the text and breathe the passion, yet never voice mine born.
I? Not I. I tread angels’ wings and under beetle’s feet,
But walks like normal a man across Poe’s brittle beach.
I spit thirst at God and ponder thoughts of fools,
But seldom will I deliver script from my poor weary soul:
The waters of my dreary heart stir in expectation
Of things of past, things to come, and bodies in participation
Nobody in particular, I’m the newest breed of mortals.
I cower under peasants, and tower over royals.
I breathe, think, and meditate on silly aimless thoughts.
I care not of love, yet practice every instant.
I have endless wit; will never choose to use it.
My greatest sin, I never seize the moment.
I spend more time pondering the thoughts of you more than the thoughts of me.
I stare at walls, pray in dreams, and flirt with inner freedom.
A shield, I don’t see you, you don’t see me.
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