Namaste
Written by Bruce James Clyde, at Deming, New Mexico
Art: the apocalypse of saint john, the evangelist, by jan massijs
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
We Are What We Are
You struggle for words, and write 'sweet nothing's'. But, I...I have swallowed a 'lexicon of grief', to find it bitter deep inside. You spray, and gargle, flossing all your pretty teeth. I vomit in the basin, all that I have learned of life. You turn away, to hide this ugly thing. I empty out my guts and cry...to a world lying. You have saved yourself, for another day...denying.
Namaste
Namaste
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
somehow reading things here feels different from reading them on the google page...
ReplyDeletehowever there's power in your pen!
Welcome, Manic...to this enchanted forest. Take a look around. Crane your neck, to the tall old trees, and down to the ground, to the herbs and roots, and seeds...to see, what you may find. I'm so glad you came. This is my life. There's a gentle breeze here, and a rushing wind. If you know of the underground stream...it is pure here. There is a spring, and a cup to drink from. Take your fill.This place speaks, in branches and twigs, and vines and leaves...and, upon the knuckles of the hand. You may hear the songs of ancient bards, if your heart is very still, and your ear is very keen. Don't mind me, I'm the janitor here. Namaste:-)
Delete