[Originally published 12-17-2015] The winter highway calls me home To where my love lies sleeping; For I have carried secrets long, Far past their time for keeping The many roads I've driven on Are fading, as the light Comes timid with the nascent dawn; I see an end to night How many habits must I … Continue reading "The winter highway calls me home…"
three blue candles in a row where she knew she shouldn’t go in a room of closed desire smoke now circles ever higher lying thoughtlessly has crept promises have not been kept but she does not care somehow in the feeling she has now for the burning justifies broken vows and sequent lies as she … Continue reading "three blue candles"
The widsom that I seek seems out of reach.
Flawed — That’s a word we use when we’ve carelessly destroyed things. We empty our emotional shelves, and Clean out the closet of our memories, But carefully retain our excuses, because Those are the ultimate image filter. And one more time, it’s about what was: And the next what-is that’s about to become what-was — … Continue reading "About what was…"
pretend again for me pretend again for you it didn’t need to end the false can still be true the days before the the lies were known they form a sort of schism; we’re trapped within the colored bars that constitute our prism [it’s all pretend… owen]
I promised her the hills and sky, I promised her all this — But one small word of truth means more Than worlds of Hollowness
Now, seeming self-assured We disappear, immured; ‘Mid walls that hold the toxins from Which we cannot be cured A world kept under wraps: Each hidden lie and lapse — For much we think we want, we dont, And castles can Be traps
Sometimes we paint the picture clear; The days of winter love and joy — But others know a different truth: The lonely girl, or lonesome boy Who wear the mask of perfect lies From our encyclopedia That we the outside world will show By means of social media. The truth is mixed, it’s good and … Continue reading "The Picture Clear"
(or “Old Poem, Written Age 18”) We live in a world full of false attribution, Where people smear filth and then call it ablution; Where lies are the most common type of pollution, And all that gets over are cheaters and cons — We breathe in the air of congenital aping, Our souls full of … Continue reading "Sic Transit Gloria Nihil"