I can't write
much less think
of what way
I can articulate
what I need to say
The frustration
the anger
the disgust
with our times
is one that mounts
with each passing day
I want to go to sleep
I want to turn a blind eye
yet I can't
so I am agitated
and unable to sleep
In this morning light
all I can see are
the gray shadows
of morning
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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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▼
2016
(372)
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▼
July
(17)
- For Bernie
- Morning of the Red Sun
- Past Life Eyes
- Complacency is a self-inflicted disease.
- Watch Her Walk
- Romancing Myth
- resurrect me now believe reincarnation many live...
- One Path
- Ikey
- Against the Tide
- Catacombs
- Gray Mornings
- AMERICA 2016
- End Times
- Will you let this love survive?
- If everything is free then nothing is for sale
- Eternal Season
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▼
July
(17)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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