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My Shenandoah Dream

In the air are traces of sweet / things; honeysuckle and apple blossoms, / bluegrass and jasmine

climbed a hundred times.

they know that special place…

for you.

for you and only you…

time never began.

beyond any vision we can imagine…

listen.

i have yet to have someone listen to me…

i wish.

i close my eyes…

short poems.

the freedom they offer…

my silence.

a world where i am free…

you.

hidden away in my heart ever so close…

i’m done.

today i end the pain…

doesn’t matter.

it’s more than what you are in love with…

sneaking up on 60.

and friends and lovers who were by no means real…

my goals.

my tomorrow, never my yesterday…

making of the artist.

and person is replaced with artist…

rejection.

those who reject you just for the evidence of reaction…

twist.

that simple dynamic that we all seek so desperately…

gone.

and i miss you…

i love art.

i envy a great artist…

idle time.

when used in such a foul way…

maze.

to one friend and then another…

no regrets.

wishing things were different…

great life.

it’s a great life…

and it hurts.

when ill-tempered and unrehearsed words wound others…

slipping away.

i now understand what must be done…

courage.

i have lost some of those qualities…

images of you.

i record my images of you…

wait.

for each and every one…

i age.

and my opinions mean less…

lost love.

i cannot wish upon my dreams…

hate.

why is there hate…

hope.

the victory will not be yours…

hidden away.

sad that you bury so deep…

the problem.

questioning yourself is not the problem…

alone with myself.

you can take away my music…

shows up.

life just shows up…

silence.

but most of all i love the silence in life…

how much time?

i don’t know how much time there is…

fit.

who guided us to kindness…

at home?

and love and hate coexist…

9.11

i want to dream of tomorrows…

sunrise.

from this we get morning…

if.

if i were a sighted man…

sunflower.

that it is just as frail, and as fragile…

ask.

do you ever sit and dream of what could be?…

evil.

its opposite and evil twin…

my mother.

from the woman who tortured my heart as a child…

just words.

can you paint with compassion…

so what?

between futility and fate…

my dad.

the greatest friend i ever had…

my first epiphany.

i can’t believe…

sick.

a slow, debilitating complaint…

see.

if i were a blind man…

journey.

to faces and smiles unknown…

my cat.

what a lazy little tart she is…

out of my mind.

silently, to me alone, it speaks…

see.

if i were a blind man…

why wait?

why silence, when you could protest…

selfish act.

not enough moments to restore the spoil of my selfish act…

and it hurts.

funny how misspoken words,,,

can.

before you can…

magical land.

i want to take you to a magical land…

so anonymous.

how do such tiny beasts…

who isn’t next?

if next really meant what it seems to mean…

truth.

are my lies your truths? are my truths your lies…

except.

that took thousands of years to perfect…

beyond the soul.

first it robs you of your smile…

answers.

what path shall become my way…

ago.

the sweet smell of a fresh rain…

why wait for fate.

this is my last day and i own it…

crest.

when life is as worthless as death…

ugly.

on a point of departure not unlike the norm…

no matter.

death comes…

bottom line.

any teachings of any god…

art is art.

while art requires the heart…

no need.

i only pray that someday…

bandit.

and now i miss you for it…

keep it simple.

ok…

emotion.

i prefer solitude over companionship…

truths.

are my lies your truths…

go away.

you have been rejected by me…

one of few.

i have very few reoccurring loving memories…

answers.

will it be one that reaches far into my world…

fools.

let fools…

doubt.

the benefit of the doubt…

all.

the whole world…

dream.

that seem so impossible…

friends.

i have some good friends…

action.

depression is a dull pain…

foundation.

this process causes me to realize…

battle.

wait for no one enemy…

sand in my shoes

I walked for miles and smiles / along the sand dunes / just to arrive and thrive again / near those swirling deep waters / around the buri…

Haunted

What is here / Calling for her / Searching for her / Hunting her…

Blame it on the Weather

There is a sunny mood in the sky. No remnants of coughed up blood stained on the pillow. Such an image of home.

Home with a Troll

Mum came home today with a Troll.

Got a bit drunk last night, walked home.

Walking though wet streets I want nothing but the rain with nothing / other than the rain to replace the faces that left me tonight. Anothe…

Hello! Please enjoy this delightful selection of home prose writing created by independent artists from around the world.
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