Here's where I can be my own 'Weirdo'. Doesn't everyone need to find their own forum for what's ailing them? Oh, do we need an excuse to do what we do? After we are both gone, no one will remember us. So, what do we actually have to lose? Forgotten words, feelings, thoughts and actions...… Continue reading Here’s where I can be my own ‘Weirdo’
Henry David Thoreau influenced me. How? It happened when I was a young teen. Thinking back nearly fifty years, I think I identified strongly with his essay 'Civil Disobedience' (as I was skeptical about nearly everything, especially the American government) in those troubled times of social upheaval. I was an impressionable angry adolescent in the 1960's; a time full of civil discontent, protesting and questioning events… Continue reading Henry David Thoreau influenced me
Why do I write poems? I began writing poetry at a young age shortly after I began reading poems of Edgar Allan Poe and Henry David Thoreau. I give tribute to great poets such as these, including Charles Bukowski. I thank them for my inspiration. Writing in general and especially specific, poetry is my creative outlet. It makes me feel better… Continue reading Madness of Poetry
What is Poetry? You know, I never really analyzed it officially, like this. Although, I always did think it carried deeper meaning than everyday experiences. But, that isn't true, because poetry speaks about everything within bounds and without. I never thought I would be moved to write so much of it as I do now.… Continue reading What is Poetry?
'Can I help you?' the salesperson asks... 'Yes, I think you can!' you reply. 'Well, what can I do for you?' 'Well, it's kinda' hard to put into words,' you say as it is so obvious you are holding the floodgate of tears back because he sees your teary eyes welling up. He's looking at… Continue reading Can I Help You?
la difference, that's how it goes... (women are the glue which bonds societies' fabric) We all work those jobs we do best and it does show a face familiar which has always been ordained long before we were put here. We've come prewired for tasks so separate although undivided it be that, different never gets things… Continue reading La Différence!
When you used to search for me, you found me by lake forgiveness beneath this old carved tree. You always knew where to find me, when we spoke those sorrowful words. Our memory dances by those yellow flowers growing on the side of that hill by the road. That wave of golden flowers; we used to stroll through and pluck.… Continue reading Beneath this old Carved Tree
I have a project for you. I want you to go out to the next full moon, and take a look. Stand there surrounding yourself in strands of moonlight. When? Some calendars have gone queer these days and don't show the partial and full moon... Let them all be queer. I mean, the calendars. I don't care… Continue reading Strands of Moonlight
Have you wondered the easiest way how to publish a book? I know from my own experience it's easier to self publish a book than it used to be. But, these days you can sign up as an author at Amazon and Barnes and Nobel and upload your manuscript and start selling it online. On… Continue reading How to Publish a Book
We escape into yet another day; boast not where the poppies grow. we run away. we don't know where God hides himself every day. we say the wrong things at all the wrong times. eat the wrong foods. we laid with the wrong person. We get lied to. we get deceived. then, we withdraw for a… Continue reading Boast not where the Poppies Grow