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Literature Text
No matter the madness that strangles
the news of this world
now it comes down to a friend
someone I've known for years
here, with every organ big enough
to hold more than many of us could
until, after a long struggle,
something gave, and yet
this wonderful man kept on
until there was no more road left
to walk on life's journey.
He still walks the journey
it's just not on this level
where the rest of us must wait
while the madness of this world
doesn't matter as I ache
because I feel there's less now.
the news of this world
now it comes down to a friend
someone I've known for years
here, with every organ big enough
to hold more than many of us could
until, after a long struggle,
something gave, and yet
this wonderful man kept on
until there was no more road left
to walk on life's journey.
He still walks the journey
it's just not on this level
where the rest of us must wait
while the madness of this world
doesn't matter as I ache
because I feel there's less now.
Literature
Less Than Lost
I tried finding it
in the hips of a
flight attendant
on the way to Buffalo.
I tried finding it
in the obscene
identical
rows of houses
outside Chicago.
In the petal
hair of girls
who do not
want me,
in the eyes of a
thousand hungry
dogs
older than I'll ever be.
In the feather rain
falling gentle,
consistent.
In fields of indian corn
unharvested
purple, yellow, blue,
yellow, red,
yellow.
On the backs of
freight trains, in
drugs and drugs.
I searched for it
in the flat, coastal
forever of Florida;
I searched for it in the
poetic types
and in the ridges
of my nails,
escape is
nowhere
to be
found
and
we
are
all
here.
Literature
[7]
i.
I detest the smell of
wet dirt and white lilies
on a sunday afternoon
because they remind me
of Death and his friends
and they're not the cool kids
on the block that I wanna be
involved with.
ii.
my poetry reeks
of unrequited love and
cosmic kisses
but I can’t help but wonder if
one day I’ll put my money
where my mouth is
and make those words
come true.
iii.
from the day I was
born till the day I die
I’ll have iron clad chains
shackled to my ankles
and a noose made
of dollar bills wrapped
around my neck.
iv.
sometimes I
wish I had a crystal ball
so that I could see
the path ahead of me
because sometimes
Literature
Deception
Sometimes I wonder
if the greatest trick that the
Devil ever played
was not convincing
the world he did not exist
but that he was God.
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Ronald Terry Ray
January 7, 1957-March 24, 2015
A "spill" without being "scrubbed" because when I found out that my dear friend Ron was gone, there's no reason in me to polish what I've written. I don't want it polished. This is how it is for me - right now.
03/29/15 Featured here:
Stuff and things ... yep, I'm creative.What's Happening?
Well, kind of a lot's been going on and yet nothing much at all, which is honestly driving me more than a little nuts. I haven't been feeling my best, but I'm doing my best to make the most of things. There are lots of things in the works that I can't talk about still, so I've been kind of just on the D.L., trying to rejuvenate physically, mentally, and emotionally. As a result, other than some administrative and volunteer activity, I've been just resting, walking and exercising, doing a little writing and singing, a little bit of socializing, a lot of tea-drinking, and a whole lot of reading. In the past two weeks, I've read two Melissa Foster books and books two through five of the Ranger's Apprentice series (I bet my squeeing texts to Crystal-Magic13, who got me hooked on it in the first place, are driving her crazy). Oh, and I'm also obsessed with Boyce Avenue lately. That dude is an amazing guitarist and such a
seh-art.deviantart.com/favouri… © 2015 - 2024 Jade-Pandora
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