...THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE... (I HOPE...) THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE... (I HOPE...) THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE... (I HOPE...) THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE...

... my   "Keep In Touch"   pages ... my   "Keep In Touch"   pages ... my   "Keep In Touch"   pages ... my   "Keep In Touch"   pages ... my   "Keep In Touch"   pages ...
2000 HEARTBEATS

damn my eyes for they can still see
what your love has done to me
damn my heart for it can still feel
believing your love was real
damn my mind for remembering
the way you would crown me king
damn my soul for the song I sing
damn my mind for remembering
the song we used to sing



  criminies...

the reluctant poet casually glances back at the trail of blood he leaves in his wake... there's so much more down there, he cries... he hardly can believe his eyes... but then he always knew the child inside never died... and someday he'd have to release all the tears the child cried... I hope they will not hurt as much as they might have back when the waters were not so wide... but those who helped cause the tears are far away and they may not hear a word I say or read a single word today so out damned tears - out - and come what may...



  one of these days, alice...



maybe it a poet gets too connected, the concen for others restricts the flow of the creativity... perhaps a poet can have no conscience or thought about how the words might be read... or perhaps some sort of illusionary detachment from the consequences on those who inspired the emotions poured out into public... or perhaps that is what time is for... and why most poets considered powerful or profound are not recognized or discovered until long after they and their inspirations are dead... and the well known living poets, for the most part, are positive or have found that detachment... I suppose wealth helps... or music...

  or something like that...



NEXT BEAT

---

MAINGATE     HOME     GARDENS     KITS     LIFE     JOURNALS     WORK     FAREWELL

---

Candor Communications    ©2000