what a jumble, words they tumble through my mind and pour out via conduit phrase as I attempt to ignore the meaning while they try and grasp a web to form a frame when last the final link approaches they dismember, sentence maimed all in disarray, my prose today, a fool am I void of means to purge this unyielding, swollen tide of rhyme fragmented, jumbled, vented, spewed into conscious thought driven by a need to be, reckless in its’ onslaught
Posts
In the absence of a few words from me I would like to share a few words written by John Denver, that I have always found particularly beautiful and that have been going around in my head for several days, since I acquired a copy of the song. joy was just the thing that he was raised on love is just the way to live and die gold is just a windy Kansas wheatfield and blue is just a Kansas summer sky If you don't know the song and want to find it, it's called Matthew.
Sometime when the sun was on the downward side of the day I looked across at mountains, saw the tree line curve and laze away if I could reach across the gap and hang on to the very peaks if I could walk on top of crowns, cradled there from underneath Orange glow and gentle warmth bathed me then from toe to tip into lower pools of red I sank my feet and took a dip diving back towards the shadows needles break my fall I close my eyes and dream, and dream again I'll do it all. 1.3.02