Tag: spilled ink

  • To Write the Wrong

    I recently set out in earnest to write the book that I’ve been threatening to write for so many years now. The better part of the last few years was spent contemplating whether or not I had anything of real value to add to the clutter out there. This was easily over shadowed by whether […]

  • Poetic Relevance

    Poetry often belies the age of the poet, but always reveals the struggles of the soul. What we write of youth, applies to old. But most would rather resist it, Than bear the truth be told. I’m in love with life. But I hate the world.

  • Life Awaits

    Pleasantries aside, Life awaits. A release waiting to be honoured, A being of self resisting restraint, An expression of the soul refusing all rules, A delight of indulgence to tickle a child. Laughter Love Abandon Life awaits.

  • Peace

    Belying my exterior, That serene scene saunters into view of my mind’s eye. Driving to a destination that isn’t, Until my fuel is spent, Effortlessly emerge from the vehicle, And continue on foot, Until I am spent. Finally melding into the sand, Without a trace, I become one with time. Passing you by, Unnoticed. Finally […]

  • Still

    Still…Is how my heart no longer beats for you These demons, they thrive because of you Still…Ravaged by the betrayal of you Yearning for that which was never to be with you Still…Can’t believe what I saw was not you The silence of the night is noisy without you Still…A stranger in this world just […]

  • Pathetic prose and paltry poetry ‘tis all that escapes the cage within me Noisy numbers, withered flowers  ‘tis all that remains of the hopes that plagued me Being is burdened,  ‘til death embraceth me

  • the train stopped on the way home today

    howfreeitis: The train has suddenly stopped. Stopped in its tracks on the way home. I sit calmly amidst the tense frenzied air. I am always the peace in the middle of others’ chaos. I press my face against the cold glass, breath of fury condensing on the windowpane. Quiet fury. Euphoric fury. Wild contemplation. What […]

  • howfreeitis: I often think of the boys who were attracted to me simply out of the virtue that I was introspective and elusive. They didn’t want to be with me because of my questionable beauty, my wavering intellect, or my neutral morality. It was primarily because I was dramatic in my constant reflections. Everyone, regardless […]