| Peoples World As the young man walks firmly into life with his head high and feeling prosperous, he needs a woman by his side, it�s not right. As he tackles the challenges that the world throws at him, he clutches the woman ever closer and tighter, it�s not right. As he grows old he expects the comfort of women, rather than doing anything to deserve it; it�s not right. And of every man dying, a women stands by his side, just hoping for another day with the one she loves, its not right. We love the comfort of being loved but do not appreciate those who love us enough. Baby I love you madly, and when you die, I will be by your side gladly. Jim Sherwood |
| Locked Breathe� suffocation, breathe� I don't know why I suck the life from you. I don't deny my fates confused in legal riff and mammal parties of immaculate turn on. One night outside, in heat, and pressure and daytime glory. Sex is the gods reward. Male occupant turning dark and blackened body, skin roars the amazement of shock. Without the last gasp of life I knead the mixture of pain and hate, of life and death, and chaos and harmony. I will succeed on the other side. I will make chances that I need that chanced our broken heart, making possibilities impossible to the group orientation of life and anger. Choices hound me and the demons dream and strangle the hereafter time of which I wish for. Breathe� suffocation, breathe� I don't know why I cut the plaintiff in two and sow the wound back together using blunt tools and vinegar. Bright moon shining down and bringing relief to hates little foibles. Discover your happy place inside my arms and choose the day to struggle. In night I dream, and dreamers dreams come true. Jim Sherwood |
| Posthumous When the lake dried and the children attempted to cross, the runt at the back was seen dawdling behind his brothers. The waves came crashing back and swept him away into the night and he was never seen again until sunrise. The following day the lake again dried and the children tried to cross one more time. The runt at the back this time followed closely and played amongst his brothers. But again the water came and washed them all away and forty percent of them were lost forever. The following year when the dry season came again the lake once again dried and the skeletons of the children were found. The awful smell of human decay could be identified from a million miles away and was chased down by the parent. Doesn�t the lone parent always blame the other? And always keep their reputation clean. Blame the father for he cannot defend himself. But in some respects I do agree for had the father been there he would have advised the children not to cross the dry lake at all. And the children would still be alive. All those children were to die in future years as on the otherside of the dry lake they found a beautiful field of the prettiest mushrooms that tasted so sweet. And they cleared that field. Now the children fly, and are reunited with their lost brothers. They remain all together playing peacefully in Nirvana. Jim Sherwood |
| Pristine Twilight A mission is all about denying fate, wondering straight to the top of the immortal tower. I always doubt your endless denial, and I always believe you when your solemn promise is given. Pressurise that special moment into angst, dwelling on the point a little to long, given too much hope to peel open and free the burden of disease. I wont stop thinking about this time, the time we lay down on the sandy bay, in thought I forgive the passing tide, loving bride, sweet taste of wine, you look so fine. A misleading point is given when I here the voices of that presence, maybe choice if you want to call it quits. But what kind of choice is that. Maybe I should throw in something a little special to wet your appetite, as little loving glows, a fire sparkling, the water glistening. Take me my pretty, pretty and wipe away that fright, and don't reject the passing ball game thrown into confusion, of hidden taste or obvious self-destruction, what about the other pearl, the missing gem, the darling wedding stone, a rock the size of San Diego or maybe trust of God. Have you ever met him? Have you ever decided anything that you would regale with our trenchermen? Don't fail me my queen, I think you�re wondering about the whole truth, and I wish I could here your thoughts. I know you are thinking them my pristine twilight, I know it. I seem to wish a lot of things, but then if I knew everything I wish I knew, it wouldn�t be as special. Would it? Jim Sherwood |