Here is the start of my love affair with sharing with strangers (you guys), what I do to keep myself sane so that one day, a kid may read some of this crap and be inspired or get a good laugh out of i...
I suppose this is a poem or something
But my thoughts won't stay in one place
I try to organise and rationalise
But my words are an abstract mess
Like melted crayons forming some kind ...
I'd like to write a poem.
Something moving, something wise.
I'd like my words to linger, long after my demise
I'd like to write of daffodils and lonely, wandering clouds
of sailing ships, and daring q...
This has been a long time since.
A long time coming like the end of this sentence.
A long-sword thrust and there is my vengeance.
And I won’t spit till I have someone to match wits.
A half-fit, master...
I don't want to be fixed,
broken inside and out.
Stand beside me and you'll see
that it's okay not to be
whole sometimes, it's
okay to be cracked where
you're most vulnerable.
All wounds will heal
A circle of isolated feelings,
Like a mother disowning with no meanings.
See I can't win,
But I can lose.
To know what its like,
Just step in my shoes.
I'm sick of lies,
I'm so confused.
But one thing...
the questions of Old embody the Author
what purpose? why? How?
The Author ity of life
Incomplete without Truth
the Truth Above that which is Anything at all
the Maker Himself u...
When I am old,
My life will count for something.
My wrinkles will tell stories
So my vocal cords don’t have to.
With every creak and crack
Of my aging back
I’ll smile and say
“These old bones don’t wo...
if I had Butterfly wings
at my Disposal, I would
Sew them on my Shoulders,
Fly away and be
the Winds, however,
would trap me
with No Escaping the Wild
of the Skies
but the flowers would be at my