I feel the stillness and quiet of the present. I have been awash in literature and spiritual deepthinking contextualized conceptualized gobbledygoop ( Read more... )

I want to travel. I want to write poems ( Read more... )

Remind meI could write ( Read more... )

whatever other questions I needed to ask faded into the back of a sun spot memory;
A temperature flare or otherwise strong devotion to romance.

I love you as I love me as I love only.

All else is vanity.
Shed it,
warm us.

I love you.

A topical fluid applied to chaffed areas.
A train whistling through a small town.

What is a poem but an appartition of the senses?

what does that make a poet?

Yes I'm alive and using my brain

Life is a stanza full of impenetrable metaphors of future experiences. What else could we be? The sum of experience culminates into the energy of our spirit. A soul. A stanza. What else? I have this theory or a feeling or a philosophy. Have you ever experienced death and felt growth throught pain ( Read more... )

besides a brick pill to swallow?

why else does everyone mope and feel de-valued?

You're killing and abusing this space.

Stop it right now.

ANXIETY: Eager, often agitated desire

I returned. I'm here to stay.

I'm here to work on myself.
I'm here to fall in love
again and again and again.

Most of all right now,
write now,

I want to organize a writing/poetry group.