These words are useless
They know nothing of life
They are tools without lives of their own
Blunt instruments-
That is what they are,
Exposing the strength of my thoughts
and the limits of what I currently am.
Perhaps, these words are more useful
than I had considered.
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It's always getting late.
When I am not writing this is what I do.
"In the present we are always in memory." - Trish Keenan
It's always getting late.
Introduction
This blog is a virtual notebook of writing that I maintain as often as I can. Poems, stray lines, random observations, all co-exist here. Revisions occur as needed/deemed fit.
See/Hear
A Chronological Archive of Joy and Heartache most often referred to as LIFE
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2015
(328)
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May
(31)
- Why do we desire beauty that is not ours to possess?
- Loneliness is desire unfulfilled.
- Temptation always provides a sound argument.
- I steal the love I want One moment at A time.
- Does the cage kill the soul of the animal?
- Until then, We fight
- Lurking Killer
- Use
- Consumption
- The Impossible
- Ant
- Urgency
- Curves and Angles
- Spring is fading fast Summer's warmth is beckoning...
- On Language
- First Actions
- Change / Chance
- On Creating
- After the End
- Learning at the Beach
- You can't call God for tech support. The number is...
- Potential Song Lyric
- Once Upon A Time
- For my niece, Kristen
- Kiss Me Like A Dreamer
- Dear Sunset
- Feelings flicker through us like so many breathes...
- Random Post
- azucar
- Spectator Without A Sport
- Bookends
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▼
May
(31)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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