We stand in a segment of time that transgresses all other moments. The past is dead and always was. We are alive and think we aren’t. Nostalgia is chain-linked bondage to thoughts remembered. We hope to regain our peace in worlds abandoned, to be safe and secure in tepid stillness. And the sun is settingContinue reading “Ignition of Time”
Right now all it seems to be is past writings, nothing new is taking shape to flow in sparkling water on crystal pages. The sentences are disjointed and I am nothing but writers block and past glory.
Words, spat out or treasured and adored, All, nevertheless, spill out when the discontents of my life tip over into the conscious. Words adorn this page as clothes adorn the psychotic, a bit misplaced, slightly jagged and with a bit too much consciousness. There is only now. But the now is always on some levelContinue reading “Cry and break free”
This is a most wearisome age.A few drops here, a few thereAnd the night fissionsShadows start their ascent to the surface.Coalescing, apparitions of forms,Here they come again aware of their despair.The roses lay around the burning bush, their beauty ferments and that’s all I see, barefooted or not.The pagan mind lurks among the curb-stomped abortedContinue reading “Angel”