The JokeWhy laugh at all the bloodshed? She inquired Why hide your face in paint? She said to me I’m no saint. That's just how my gun was fired (The true, bad answer is that it’s funny) We laughed at life, we loved the you-and-me The world outside, such fun, such happy fare We looked down from the circled gallery And saw no solemn spirits standing there She had a cruel side to her (don’t we all?)The Joke
She loved her dangerous games, and played them well
With cold and whiteface grin, she thought me warm She loved me but sensed no approaching hell And then my gambling ro
The Old Lady's NightmareMrs. Pokhotsk gripped the arms of the chair yet tighter with her talons, nails biting into the cheap, cracked leather. Her eyes were narrowed so much as to appear closed entirely, but through the thin space between eyelids she glared at the newspaper on her lap. The rheumatics made it difficult to turn the pages, but turn them she did, mouth grumbling and moving constantly as if trying to remove a perpetually troublesome pip from the recesses of a tooth. Shljukhi ... politicheskie dejateli ... suki, proslavlennye bumagami ... otvratitel'nyjj... Ja byl pravil'nym ..., ehto javljaetsja adom With a rasp of scornThe Old Lady's Nightmare
Through The Land: A DiaryDAY 25 I awoke in the circle again this morning, and this disturbs me. This is the second time, and I am beginning to fear the sleep that somehow ferries me back to those woods, and that place with its hem of blasted earth. There is meaning to it, of this I am certain, but what meaning, and meaning for whom, I cannot venture. The fourth time… With each of them, each waking in the circle, I fancy I can hear noises, I think human noises, but this of course nonsense. My nightmares echo in my head after I escape them, that is all. I have endeavoured to sleep less, or even not at alThrough The Land: A Diary
Something To RememberWe met in darkness The throb of the night matched the throb of our bodies A touch, a touch, too little, too much Oh, I shall go to pieces I swear I shallSomething To Remember
I miss you so my little fever dream I want to lose myself in you The folds and curves of you Why did you have to lose yourself first?
I think, if I were pressed I should choose you always Above all others And scream my vision of beauty to the stars But I am not loud enough
Here In your arms In you I am quieter inside than I have ever been Your smell dances in
--
"Start by doing what's necessary; then do what's possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible."
St. Francis of Assisi
--
.
--
So you are running home
But you know you ain't got one
Cause you live in a world
that is best forgotten
When you think another joke
and nobodys gona listen
to a one small boy that has been missing
here round here
Previous PageNext Page