Devious Journal Entry-Exit Writer
Farewellfarewell, farewell, adieu, and goodbye the words choking my vast inside sputtering thoughts in the wind say good- bye no long- ing left be- kind gaining composure in the final cry farewell. farewell. adieu. and goodbye...Farewell
To BeTo be a deviant artfully mastered made to be flattered not that it matters please tell me I'm goodTo Be
To be a man thoughtfully created unearthfully sated I know its belated please tell me I'm good
To be an artist lost in thought though coming to naught he hopes to be sought please tell him he's good.
To be in Christ dead to the world a strawberry swirl my light to unfurl I can tell you God's GOOD
Please Tell Me Im GoodPlease tell me I'm good not in that way but in this way with words of honey dripping sweet gently working the ego's feet and I'll be sure to thank you not in that way but in this way with sly understating of a jackle's hand reaching slowy out of quicksand Please tell me I'm goodPlease Tell Me Im Good
Marionetam I a puppet to dance upon the screen a sweet marionet come upon this scene I shake and I quiver I think and I shiver your words drown me out on a block of iceMarionet
am I the poet that can make you scream a smithee of words, seen between the steam I scan and I falter I work and I alter your remarks leave me breathless in the wind
am I a deviant that you treat me so a stunning reminder of how far you can go
I hope and I stagger I read and I wager your thoughts will not stay on me much longer
Into the BasementI seldom venture anymore deepInto the Basement
into my basement cradled snug beneath the dusty Earth. Nor do I care to make
that steep descent down into the self that I
left buried and alone underfoot; A past hidden in dusty boxes and old album sleeves. I am afraid of what I might find.
Tonight, as I lay ready for sleep, I find myself sinking down and down until I reach my basement. I find my Father there, smiling, opening boxes and examining their content. Digging through photo memories and projects and experience, he removes them from the boxes. &
The Death BringerI am the Death-Bringer A Nation upon my slim shoulders I am the bearer of dreams and hope inside my Enola Gay I am sage, ready, one each flick of the switch, a light the sparing of innocent life A Nation upon my shoulders salvation comes alive and rises through the air.The Death Bringer
I see dark men with long legs and short ships stretching across distant ocean hopping island to island. Who will bury the dead?
As I draw near I see irradiated, or is it irritated, grins welcoming me to the land
of cherry blossoms and volcanoes A Nat
The MinerThe minder sits patiently by the river He sifts through layers of silt Hoping oping ping ing ng G to find the gold under the surface He was told That when he came to San Fran He would find It That when he left himself behind He would find It That the dreams of his youth would drive him and He would find It That if he staked his claim and paid his dues He would find It but It was never there so he went home empty And his heart poured from hisThe Miner
mouth and hands Sifted through screens of experience And he found
I'll be right around the corner if you need anything, feel free to write a note on anything you wanna ask.
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:step-by-step: the dance of life is learned
MJ-Battle
-Remember the Battle-
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