be random what is now when is then where is email who i am how it is why it is leave a note? share me, share you make me smile thank you other journals (of course I should be sleeping) (what's life got to do with it?) about me (too much to know at once) friend? (tic tic tic, toc) BE MY GUEST (BOOK) << MISSING �SOMETHING? >> the bottom line who can when i had the time the first of december (has another song) what i do < ? me # > < ? harrychapin # > < ? Random Acts of Journaling # > < ? Poetic Voices # > < ? The Write Club # > < ? Nights Awake # > < ? Fluid # > < ? Adopted # > < ? Childlike # > < ? Poets-Muse # > < ? Five Hundred # > < ? As You Wish # > temporary place holder ()))CRAYON-BOX)))> published blogmad! varb? �2015 CANDOR COMMUNICATIONS IF YOU WANT TO USE THE WORDS FOR ANY REASON TALK TO ME |
and the telling of secrets something that was lost (is that The Beautiful South?)... and in my mind a voice says Prefab Sprout... a deeper voices says Jane Oliver, a darker voice says Gavin Friday, and further within, Tim Rice's Gesthemane... and in my dreams, last night, I think I heard The Telling... or will it be tonight... saved by the music, thank you Justin and John... my muses of music come to soothe and stir haunting memories when only bits and pieces echo through my mind... even the most content giggles of the most happy child an not hide the sorrow deeper within, for anyone with eyes that see or ears that hear can not avoid the human condition, though must supplant reality with fantasy and leave the truth deep in their subconscious, it remains... there is no place else for us to go... long have old men been revered and cheered for sacrificing youth are blood stained souls invisible to those so fearing death that life must be erased by anyone possessing breath long have the control freaks dominated humanity and perhaps, through divine intervention or natural selection or both, they will destroy themselves in the end... the question for the rest of us is how many will be left, in any, to carry on what might become of humanity... will any of the steaks of enlightened thought peering through the darkness of human history survive the self-destructive plans for domination, the self-engendered manifest destiny of mankind?... "When you are dead you will lie forever unremembered and no one will miss you, for you have not touched the roses of the Pierian Muses. Invisible even in the house of Hades, you will wander among the dim dead, a flitting thing." ~ Sappho that Sappho sings erotic tears what message lost, brought such a kiss that each Satan and Jesus fears tell me, maestro, play a dream conduct me to a better place in time, promised, does it seem like lost shapes of a lover's face no, I won't cover my eyes or close my ears as nature cries if truth exists where hearts would die to know that a god would lie oh, what cruel world is this that Eros silenced, withers long what heaven lost, a hell or bliss that cries out for another song lost amidst the babbling waters, deep within rivers of words, adrift beneath oceans of ideas, a flower yearns to grow... and in spite of the influences drawing dark lines across the page, the heart beats with hope for that next breath of sunlight, for the taste of a tear of joy... within the weary carcass, beyond the hopeless gaze, under the cloak of tragedy, a smile longs to be kissed and kiss that flower and taste that tear and be reborn... patiently waiting for someone to care... "Your friend is your needs answered. He is your field, whiceh you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. And he is your board and your fireside. For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace. When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the �nay� in your own mind, nor do you withhold the �ay�. And when he is silent, your heart ceases not to listen to his heart; for without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed. When you part from your friend, eeeeyou grieve not, for that which you love in him maybe clearer in his absence. As the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain. And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit. For love seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery. Is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught. And let your best be for your friend. If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also. For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill? Seek him always with hours to live. For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness. And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed." ~ Kahlil Gibran a song of the hope, the passion, the crime and words wander wearily out of the mind calling out heartbearts, awaiting your find it's for proving we are here, for stating a case for reaching out to the whole human race advancing a cause, inviting a friend sharing yourself as real or pretend pictures and poetry, rhyming or prose this is how a literary garden grows reviews and the news, stories, rhapsodies, essays that reflect your life or fantasies all here in the diary, pretending alone a universe unfolds that was thought, unknown but there you are now, and hungry for more are you still wondering, what this is for? what this is for?... it's for all that it seems and the telling of secrets, long lost in dreams in the garden of a madhouse �� Meat! previous - - - - - - - - next - - - - - - - - comment? - - - - - - - -
I love you all for coming... for reading all these words for every click feels like more love (I know that sounds absurd) if I could only tell you... one thing more tonight I'd say I wish you could come home with me and be my friends for life |