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Showing posts from October, 2006
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
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.
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I stood beneath the weeping tree
and shielded by the canopy
heard leaflets whisper olden tales,
revealed in full beneath the veil.
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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.

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