Yin and YangI’m receptive; I let everything in Passive force; I am death; water or earth You’re resistant; yet to me you’re akin Active force; fire or wind; you are birth And though I am dark, in me there is light It shines in my soul like a distant star And though you are day, in you there is night It festers and forms an infinite scar While you are sunshine, I am overcast So different in meteorology And you’re always first, and I’m always last We have to work out this dichotomy… We don’t need or want others, no great gang Just two of us, me and you, Yin and Yang.Yin and Yang
My BannerWe went the long way, didn’t we? We got hurt; don’t you see…My Banner
You know that I’m not absolute That at times, when no words suit, I’m really a procrastitute You’re my banner
Does it hurt when I, in dread of mind, Crumple; leave ideas behind? To my talent, I am blind And to you, not always kind You’re my banner
Do you bask in what I’ve got to say? As I pick the pencil up, to play With words and sentences today You’re my banner
Be my banner…
We went the long way, didn’t we? We got there in the end.
Written Writing RantI dance across the open page Treat it as my little stageWritten Writing Rant
I grin and blush as I pass by These fame full moments; I could fly
I form every chapter, sentence, word For those of you who haven’t heard,
How can I be so benign Pretend that these great works aren’t mine?
It’s common courtesy, I see But shouldn’t they be praising me?
Perennial RealityA tree Is loneliness, To me.Perennial Reality
Summer; twisted branches grope, for the touch of sun… Autumn; sheds the leaves of hope, it can’t find the one… Winter; has to try to cope, these anchored roots can’t run… Spring; drippy dreary mope, the year is almost done…
Another year? Oh, cursed be this perenniality!
Rice ValleyCloudsCome with me, Love, to the grass and lay beside me on our backs just waiting for the time to pass, not caring where our heads are at. We’ll run our fingers through the blades of grass and watch the clouds drift by. I’ll laugh at things like birds and planes,Clouds
and you’ll laugh at my gentler side as that young girl asks us our names. Instead of passing, time stands still and in that moment still remains
the love we shared I couldn’t feel. That love has grown and now I know how much I miss the grass and clouds. Almost my hand can feel your hold, a touch fr
I've Submitted!
Artistic
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Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and finally for money.
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Each night Father fills me with dread
When he sits on the foot of my bed;
I'd not mind that he speaks
In gibbers and squeaks,
But for seventeen years he's been dead.
--
Donnie: My parents didn't get me what I wanted for Christmas.
Dr. Lilian Thurman: What did you want?
Donnie: Hungry Hungry Hippos.
Dr. Lilian Thurman: And how did you feel, being denied these hungry, hungry hippos?
Donnie: Regret.
--
Typical is what you're after,
Not some beautiful disaster.
--
Donnie: My parents didn't get me what I wanted for Christmas.
Dr. Lilian Thurman: What did you want?
Donnie: Hungry Hungry Hippos.
Dr. Lilian Thurman: And how did you feel, being denied these hungry, hungry hippos?
Donnie: Regret.
--
<signature not found...>
--
Typical is what you're after,
Not some beautiful disaster.
--
<signature not found...>
--
Typical is what you're after,
Not some beautiful disaster.
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