People will try to tell you what it is you really mean; Their viewpoint, one of privilege, that you can't contravene -- But that is just polemics, we can't fall for all that stuff: For we know what we are, and felt, and that should be enough

People will try to tell you what it is you really mean; Their viewpoint, one of privilege, that you can't contravene -- But that is just polemics, we can't fall for all that stuff: For we know what we are, and felt, and that should be enough
[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 break? How many lies be spoken? The time is now for me to take And fix all that I've broken 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 world is beautiful and sad,
i see it as i wander by;
the good things that we want – so bad –
our reason – just an alibi –
the aching heart will know no peace;
the tired soul will find no rest —
the world is beautiful, but sad:
our worst is so mixed up in
all our best
The sun sets on the standing stones.
The clouds, the moon, the stars still move in track.
The widsom that I seek seems out of reach,
And questioners and doubters, still catch flack
Especially from those who pose as questioners.
These hunt down searchers with great indignation:
Returning then to palaces of folly
In orgasms of self-congratulation
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]
Joy is presence, grief is absence —
That small much is clear —
What was good is never lost, or
It was never here.
In our being there’s agreeing
If we’ll just but feel it —
What is good needs take no counsel
(Nor need you appeal it)
For there is a sudden season:
Life is lived, so do it —
What is good is its own reason,
That’s all there is to it
I promised her the hills and sky,
I promised her all this —
But one small word of truth means more
Than worlds of
Hollowness
Beauty have I loved
As life’s great
View behind the veil
He loved her like the summer wind,
She gave him life and hopefulness,
He loved her like a happening
That turned a pointless day to bliss
He loved her like nobody could,
But it took little study
To see how she saw him, which was
Precisely as
Nobody