
"What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."
~by Ralph Waldo Emerson
"Poetry is a very subjective and intimate expression. It's literally your heartbeat. Your rhythm. The song of your soul. It's superconcentrated. It's a dense piece of yourself.
~by Val Kilmer
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it's been awhile, thought i would run away from the energy over on myspace pages and friends for a bit and come to this little quiet side of the internet universe. i need to unboggle my mind, redefine who i am as time closes the door in one chapter of my life and starts moving in another direction. back to my roots and find within me the passion i hold close. i know the doors of perception are just waiting for me to open them. time...time seems to be standing so still. it is my drug. and i need my dose of lethargy. i find much has not changed online only bells and whistles...i am still left with a key pad and my own thoughts to express. if only loopholes allowed for this restlessness of a hopeless romantic within me to vanish. i spew and spit words out. and a few years later look at them like dust balls in a corner. prehaps others don't but an artist elusive has a cage called flesh of limitations. i am here for these few moments...scaling back on memories, and hopes after being caught in a delusional net of self wishes. what awaits but sweet wine for me at the table, and smiles of the past. kiss me twice, nice and fast. i notice it in me and i notice the void in folks that you would never guess, some bare it openly others defey with a illusional wall of tricks covering it in masquarade fan fare. the human will to be more than just human with perfect love. blank stares...tell their stories and boasting reflects their fears of us knowing. the need to be home smoothers my thoughts, home...a place of peace. where can go here, by the river to listen what the rippling current has to say in many voices from goodness to dismay. Or shall my heart soar with the desert hawks, and perch steadfast on the highest point with an overview of all. where nothing else is taller but bold painted mountains. I can only stare and see patterns of earth turn into still images of Indians in solid rock from the past. if only they could speak and what messages for me would they convey. If i am a seeking, preoccupied am i...but let my faith not perish so silently and have compassion from God on high. and be blessed with happiness, warmth peace the untarished find. And be not a searcher left behind.
enchantingbluebutterfly 