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The Noise Of Trouble
"In the present we are always in memory." - Trish Keenan
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
One of the highest functions of art
is to elevate our shared humanity.
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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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Hank
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More?
Chain Letter Author
Dionysian Dialect
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Toma'a
beauty in your eyes dare I kiss your blooming lips...
late hours turn to dawn what does night say to mor...
caress your soft neck eyes closed feeling silken h...
power of silence your lips do not part for me win...
The Eternal
Monuments to hubris.
Autumn of burning Air sits heavy over us Smell of ...
Waste Your Life
Adulthood
You Whom I Loved Best.
We love the ones we cannot save.
Gathering Dust
Advice to Self
Even the dead pray.
Immutable Law of Humanity
Use failure as a starting point for living Experie...
failure of memory
Unconscious Functions
Processional
This Night (Freewrite 9/12/16)
two incomplete ideas
One of the highest functions of art is to elevate...
Home / Less
Those Who Sow the Soil
A Certain Kind of Writer
What Kind of Honesty Are You Looking For
Recognition
Woke Up Dreaming
On Hope
It Doesn't Matter He's Dead Anyway
If I Need Your Help
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About Me
R
I'm an outgoing introvert, maybe you're one too.
View my complete profile
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