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The Noise Of Trouble
"In the present we are always in memory." - Trish Keenan
Saturday, October 10, 2015
Put your mouth on my mind
to shut me up again.
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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.
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Dionysian Dialect
A Chronological Archive of Joy and Heartache most often referred to as LIFE
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The Clouds are the Mountains Above Us
Cold Tears, Warm Blood
If there is no firethere are no ashes
If you want a revolution light the fire in your he...
The city sleeps restlessly as I drive through empt...
False Apparition
Black Mass in the White Chapel
Small Town Morning
How strong is a stone Water carves canyons in Eart...
Don't Live Forever
Moral Deadbeats
Are you someone I used to be? Am I someone you us...
Question for a Philosopher
The withering of a flower is as natural as its bl...
Elemental Kisses
On Love
The Question
Midnight Choir
I only feel good when you use me.
Dripping with the heat of you.
No one deserved to have you so why am I surprised ...
Put your mouth on my mind to shut me up again.
My One Bit of Advice For My Infant Niece to Rememb...
Didactic tomes of intent
All the lives I've led in my heart.
Fresh cut grass It's scent invades my ...
Let's make the same mistakes again To see if they ...
Moving forward together into the light of a new l...
Pagan Sun
Let me press my lips against your hips
before the sunrise waking to the sound of cries s...
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About Me
R
I'm an outgoing introvert, maybe you're one too.
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