We built a town from nothing, And there we lived our breaths; We raised our children on these lanes, And saw our parent's deaths -- We built our meanings here in blood, Then came to find, somehow, That all the meant the world to us Is full forgotten Now
Lucy sat out in the sun In cold and clear September; She modeled for us her new life, I always will remember The pride she wore upon her face As she soaked in the rays; Not knowing pills and Crystal Head Would soon cut short her days. The pride of Lucy, young and full Of …
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We have known the music of emptiness, and truth be told, at times, we have sought it. Times when we seek, not to make sense of it all, but to accept the senselessness and vanity that comprises much of life. This is not sadness, it is a hollowness: this us not despair, it is more …
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... it's a sad day, indeed
He let imagination play And spill across each fevered page; Of life spent at a breakneck pace, Of love and hate and Sex and rage And peaceful moments that would touch The hearts of any who might see; But wonders now, and over-much, If all of it’s Not vanity He wanted what he wrote to …
Continue reading "On The Transience and Vanity of Being A Writer"
A life led by blind desire, Lurching toward the funeral pyre Happenstance spun into meaning, Private times spent posing, preening Strings of words on worthless air, Tableaus struck with no one there Emptiness and vanity, Sheltered by insanity Carved from cells once formed by bliss: So familiar All of this (“So Familiar” – 10-23-2014)
It’s raining where I work today But I’ll show up and earn my pay Or try to: try to prove my worth As though each day was a new birth But through this pane of glass I see The wild world in front of me And hear the booming thunder roll All things beyond my …
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dissolving such expectations as are borne on light winds blown through passing thoughts like my own damned vanity
How desolate this spot is now. I walk around the emptiness – What once was meant as life support Lies dead among the quietness And as the summer shadows move, I hear the evening start its song; The sun is headed home to rest, And I should head home too, Ere long = = …
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