wethepoets.blogspot.com
tell-tale heart: January 2011
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A place. for poetry. and the sharing and caring of it. I am met at the crossroads. By a moment I do not know-. Taken aback, at last,. This is the reason for my travels. I gaze into the invisible horizon. My mind reaches further than my sight. This one is the one that I shall travel. It is not easy, for it leads into my soul. Into darkness and shame and anguish,. But it is not. at least not. The greatest action a person can aspire to. Is to look at truth and accept it. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom).
wethepoets.blogspot.com
tell-tale heart: December 2009
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A place. for poetry. and the sharing and caring of it. I'm a thunderstorm trapped in a bottle,. A ship christened with tears instead of champagne,. I'm the fury of the sea heard in a seashell,. Driftwood, aimless in the current of time. You Have To Go (I Know). The crimson glow of fading hope. The sea ignores the movement of your tides. The moon turns the pages of your chanted lullaby. Give the sky back her crimson, mesmerizing face. My heart is none of her concern. What you have stolen from her. There w...
wethepoets.blogspot.com
tell-tale heart: March 2010
http://wethepoets.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html
A place. for poetry. and the sharing and caring of it. Meaning runs riot in a center-less world. I've lost the rhythm of my mind. I see so many others in directionless blurs. Seeking solace we never can find. Dear child of darkness in manifold thought. Trapped in sight and reverberating sound. No knowledge that by the same fears we are caught. Alone our struggle abounds. Up and down and all around. But in the silence I can't hear the sound. Of the gentle pleas you scream aloud. We don't have to be alone.
wethepoets.blogspot.com
tell-tale heart: Star Power
http://wethepoets.blogspot.com/2010/05/star-power.html
A place. for poetry. and the sharing and caring of it. I want to pressurize Grace McConnell. You heard me right, I said pressurize. Visit our pink blog at http:/ jujamist.blogspot.com. And don't blame Einstein for the atom bomb. Blame MacArthur for preaching us stagnant. And this city for letting apathy run rampant. Visualize the change you want, and then become bored of it. Throw a hissey fit. Watch movies on your laptop until you brain turns to. Another distraction and time filling noisemaker.
wethepoets.blogspot.com
tell-tale heart: November 2011
http://wethepoets.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html
A place. for poetry. and the sharing and caring of it. The vengeance of a too small hat. Making your head look big. And you look childish. The transience of a Ralphs coupon. Printed on the back of a receipt. The penitence of a death row inmate. So sad and hopeless. The patience of a writer. Behind on his deadline. The virulence of a politician. The annoyance of a barking dog. Sharp, piercing bursts of sound. Cutting through the air. The pollutants of this text. Implanted, now in your mind.
wethepoets.blogspot.com
tell-tale heart: August 2010
http://wethepoets.blogspot.com/2010_08_01_archive.html
A place. for poetry. and the sharing and caring of it. I Wish You Could See What I See. I once saw a blind man who wandered to the sea. He climbed mountains, he crossed deserts,. He walked where none could see. Days he spent in solitude, nights he spent alone,. Stars could never be his guide. To lead him safely home. Strange things happened in his wake, wherever he would dwell,. Strange things men are loathe to say,. Once they bid the man farewell. I came upon his path one day,. Or perhaps he came to me,.
wethepoets.blogspot.com
tell-tale heart: May 2011
http://wethepoets.blogspot.com/2011_05_01_archive.html
A place. for poetry. and the sharing and caring of it. We'll map our future by tracing the path our veins take. From our hearts to our hands and back again. Hold my hand until the creases on our palms align. Where the future, past and present, like our fingers intertwine. And our bodies burn and drip like candle wax onto each other's skin. Like melting clocks, we share this one eternal night. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom).
wethepoets.blogspot.com
tell-tale heart: January 2010
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A place. for poetry. and the sharing and caring of it. I have been up reading. For hours, maybe. I find myself awake. Nor late night,. I look up from my book. And from the window. Like paint drippings;. Turning the grey asphalt. I also, am in the midst. Of a rain;. When the ground chokes. It has been needing. Lament for the puppets. You dribble destinies like tears from your fingertips,. Holding hostage the feeble minds of ten million sleeping souls,. You offer for ransom your brothers and the truth.
wethepoets.blogspot.com
tell-tale heart
http://wethepoets.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-if-there-are-only-two-types-of.html
A place. for poetry. and the sharing and caring of it. What if there are only two types of graffiti;. Your name and rebellious art? What if my picture of silence. Resembles two surgical gloves. July 16, 2011 2:43 AM. I would say that I think it is not uncommon for a person such as yourself, that is, one who strives to be something but is also wise enough to judge impartially their own failures or shortcomings in such an endeavor, to feel shamed by what they perceive as inaction on their part.
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