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Like foam on the ocean the clouds drift by theirs is a vast sea the blue of the sky. Like foam on the ocean changing form with the breeze, such are the clouds in the sky's blue seas...
Some sort of sour stench seeps into my senses as I stroll across the sidewalk.A split second -- my sixth sense smells somethingseriously sinfulserenading through the streets.
Sand trickling down, Remembering the journey, Continent with what's left.
Let water run deep. Let my river run like my feet as far they can go going with the flow. Just another water drop, another person in a mob. Immersed in the vast expense
Dear Mom, Or Pam, I suppose. Enabling the lowest of my lows. Do you remember me? Is it the memory or the idea? Cheap wonder bread and ham, cool kids who couldn't care less.
Dear girl in the wreckage, Rain- quiet, deafening rushes of storms on sunny days. Crowded, uncontrollable perfection. sunbeam piercing storms Constant, defining.
I have meaning, past my purpose. I do. I know this. I am even - most days - convinced of it.
Pieta Pieta The death of your son fulfilled time. Your praying face shows the peacefulness of the moment. Mighty is your love,
we are not poor we just lacked the resources that would have allowed us to own the same toys that some of our friends owned we were rich with imagination and reads
"More, more." They say, "More, more." These voices won't stop This emptiness won't be filled enough "More, more." These voices continue to say, "More, more." More of what? More friends.
Sitting by the pool, I squinted my eyes at the torrid back yard, my lawn chair slightly separated from the others. My glass of iced tea sat within reach, ready to rescue an overheated and dried out tongue.
I want to lay down and dissolve away. Make it so there's no trace of what used to be. Me and him never speak. It's a mess that accumulates in my head. I don't worry, it's just my fallout.
If every yellow blossom was an echo of your laughter and every star that shines glinted brighter in your eye, there'd be a flower for everyone all seven-point-five billion and the night sky'd be so bright
If I died, I’d cry But if I didn’t, then I’d never be alive I think I’m sad sometimes But other times I think that I’m just lying I like to sing out loud about death And feeling bad, and never being their yet
I think thatI am finally over everything.It feels like a weighthas lifted off my chest.I don't need to worry aboutif I am giving off
As the crisp leaves fell from the freezing trees,
Today as I went about my Saturday ritual of housekeeping, I found my lost love for the laundry and the orange peel therein And again at midday for the sanitized scent of the dishwasher
I will be content Since my needs will all be met, I can share my hope.
I don't know anything about the things in this Steve Miller Band song I think maybe, despite that, my love for it is totally justified Ya know, I think that you don't have to understand something to love it
I’m going to tell you something, a story of when I was just an adolescent Not quite a child, nor a man, but the desire to be one was present In my soul, I was thirsting, wanting to be accepted
I know when it's not there,But it's all I need. I know when it's there,But I barely realize it. I feel it.I crave it.But I never think to hold on to it. Relax, man.
Tragedy brings me back where I started The things that break me take me back Back where I started Peace Joy Contentment My heart mends You, Dear Friend, are the center of my strength
I am but the bird that sings in the morning before you're really ready to wake up All I need is the tender response of my brothers on the wind You whistle my name and it sounds so sweet
Tender, sweet heart is full Light reflects elegantly, Last forever please
The sun splahes the sky with a runny orange-purple haze that bathes the land in shiny gleaming evening The light dribbles into my mouth and lines my insides with warmth
I guess we're back where we started, Sweet lover of my mind I saw you in a weird place yesterday Not in my dreams Not in my thoughts Not in my day dreams or writings or when I ought
In this orchard, Everyone is picking Their own juicy apples.
You were the rose, but with thorns, One touch and I bled,
Im used to these shaky take-offs Because new beginnings are never smooth Probably because I force these chapters to end too soon. As I break the layers of the sky it all becomes a plane
Searching for the light I am the best friend found in the night. The smile adorning my face matches the smile in my soul. Others perhaps fail to give grace, I strive to make others whole.
I'm sowing and sowing
Being vivacious is my exact definition Right? Of course, It is the veil to my grand facade
How is it with so many people around, adoringly screaming on about how much they love you and how you're an amazing person.
Billions of brains, minds, imaginations One like mine
it is 4a.m. i peer down at christmas lights strung across dusty anthills. 6 stories and 1 roof high, my metaphorical hand grasps the closest metaphorical hand; knees are pressed up against backs for warmth.
We have come here to these borders drenched in the sweat and blood of those who have come before us. They could see far more clearly through their own pain, than we can in our own
I am body and my body is bone And in this body, my mind makes its home Ask me, tell me, teach me, it rushes
ACCEPTANCE© Glenn Johnson Today longing burst into the blooming of acceptance. For how many eons . . . into how many worlds
Feet on ground Head in the sky Making plans for the future When I am barely getting by Just happy to be smiling So lucky to be alive Whether money grows on trees Or I am begging on my knees
I would burn in center stage's spotlight I would drown in a flood of applause I do not sparkle or shine bright Hubris is not one of my flaws
Pace. not back and forth, Forward. i set a pace, and amble steadily on. there is a road stretched out before me, long, with no end in sight nor turns
This fog gives me a sweet sense of what is to come, While the sun is hiding, ready to take its course. I am ready, for my story has just begun.
Laying upon the sterol sheets A man of 93, With hair the color of the clouds, And eyes that of the sea. His gaze fixed on the ceiling, Where it has stayed for days Going over in his head,
When I think of struggle, what do I see? Sunshine over a withered tree? A person refusing to open their mind Only scared of what they'll find
If love is fleeting what is the purpose what is the meaning an adventure i suppose to sail its salty seas weather its harsh storm to answer its pleas and struggle to conform