for a moment and gone…
the flower that blooms for a day.
the rain dropp dissolving into the earth,
the small stone washed away,
when the river surges.
the memory of dawn
forgotten in the night…
the lonesome farewell of the snail
crossing just before light…
leaving only a small wet trail
as evidence of passing! , , ,
and the shout of joy,
that sounds like silence!
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what if you woke up,
that the old, foul smelling,dirty clothes, unshavenwino in the parking lot,trying to bum a couple bucks…was God?how would that changethe way you look at things?well… He is!
timeless…
the taste of sweat on a lovers neck.the sound the shovels makefilling the grave,and the moment just beforewhen life fled into the sunset.the burnt fringe of the letteryou saved from the fire.the echoes of passion…in a box in the closet.the silence just afterthe guns stopped firing,just before the world found its way!the spoon in the…
i am for…
equal distribution of goods.the right to work,to speak out, to stand up…i am for truth at all costs,for freedom of religion…i am for peace right now,right here, and always.i am for education for all,for growing our own food.for breaking the curse of oil…i am for gay rights, and their right to marry.i am for diversity,…
real men…
real men dont lie.real men dont takeat the expense of others.real men dont quit.real men dont make excuses.real men dont follow blindly.real men dont abuse women.real men are good fathers.real men live by respect.real men dont seek violence,but dont back down.real men get involved.real men face their fears,and their failures.real men own their mistakes.real men…
sun setting,
the piano bench empty,dust gathers on the keys.the grass damp with dew,the wind still, and quiet.the bookshelf sagswith books long ignored.people walk by without talking,darkness opens its mouth… swallows.the lamp forlorn and chilledwaits without hope for a bulb.nothing to say that can say,words fall like leaves to the ground.the room empty haunted by form,curls up…
she stands down in front of the mission,
grey thin soul you can see through.chapters written in faded jeans,and shoes too worn for footprints.a mother, a daughter, a sister, a lover,somebody’s somebody, nobody’s home.bloomed out of season to a different beat,in a garden of stone in the alley.they say beauty walks these homeless streets,perfumed by soup kitchen longing.while babies bear babies and numbers…