| what ghosts we have that hide in walls deep set in mind what shadows do we hide in when most we fear our selves our golden road of simple dreams long ago a distant memory what fateful things we must hear when others fall in sorrow why of such things we bury deep and hide and yet we continue on always on when others would fall and in dark moments when all seems its darkest we realize at those moments that we are our own light which others are guided in darkest of times and with all this we find our selves alone in search of answers and sometimes when we stop searching we find the answers are confronting us the whole time and maybe you ask your self in pondered moments if you are not the answer but a question waiting fulfillment. |
| thousand charity cases walking in the dark midnight comes cold again and claims three more in the park I write a thousand papers but to me they are all the same. I watch the poor people dieing and I think what a shame but, I turn my back and walk into school to write another paper and as midnight comes cold again, three more charity cases die in the dark all over the city and is it only me that thinks its such a pity that so many die here in this cold city. |
| where came the song of life said the poet to the stars and across the sky came answers in riddles the buzz of a hummingbird wing and the slyness of a fox when in dreams the foxes run ever so quick and slyly through the mind letting all the world pass by imaginations tied to their tails and the mornings wake there is the buzz of the world so fast and light and gentle at times as the buzz of a humming birds wings. but in all these things said the sky to the poet the shadows have the audacity to change all these things with out letting you know |
| old man winter cold and clutching staring out at his domain far away a child called spring wrapped in bright colors singing a happy song about tomorrow forgetting the cold and the sorrow and at the song the cold begins to pull back its army of snow unable to fight the warm comfort of the child's song old man winter drives farther north heading home to his castle of ice the child of spring rolling the dice move ever farther north but as time past the boy grew older and wiser letting the sun bare down it became so hot that it smiles turned to frowns and as time passed greens turned to golds and golds to browns weary relief from the heat the people smiled laughing and walking among the colors but now the child of spring had become old and far less bold he started tentatively to paint the world in white and gray letting the happy warmth fade away and finally at the end of the day child of spring was an old man cold and bitter at what had once been gold and fun frolic he unleashes a cold army of ice to move harsh through the land once a green marsh not a ice cold march a grip of ice cold that the old man winter is sure will finally last forever but only time will tell and only we will know if he fell to springs child of warmth and frolic. |
| there is a world in side the world locked inside a thousand desprate dreams and all these things of madness is locked away in a small part of your heart and we call this world locked inside the world inside those thousand desprate dreams this madness we call it love... |
| This is simply a set of misc. writings...enjoy |
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