Category: Prose

Heading out and feeling guilty…

Life is full. Rapturous. Engaging. how easily swiftly defeatingly im drug back to the war zone -death. Sometimes death frees more than the person gone. Other times it chains hearts to dreams and wishes. And then there is death that haunts forever. I think our Creator is wrong… love will not save the world. Unless…

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tomorrow

Does it bother -you or me the way tinsel hangs on the tree or static waves -adjust cling us to every thing and then we discuss? i wonder where i am going with this poem? It hit me… wham! while brewing the morning coffee. It feels unfinished. Perhaps i do have more planned days ahead……

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bullshit and bile

In everyone’s “I’m not going to be phony, phoniness… ” Ah, I just need to gripe to someone. I can feel the volcanic ash rising. I’ve been burnt… smoldering for years. I need to release the trash compiled… hidden in recesses and crevices and tunnels. Cut the crap! Get to the point! I leaf through…

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