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Because I'm Supposed to Be

Because I'm Supposed to Be a Writer...

Days like dominos
Click, collapse

Shapes grow
from wreckage

Diagrams redrawn
if derailed

Because
when all's said and done

Pieces fall where they may

I'm Feeling Sappy
or, Untitled

Did you know my shoulders
are stardusted with love?

Come blueheart sky and raindrops
tell him my words are cloud-caught

in flax-spun, golden-spoked fogs
with sunshine glitter flecks

These shoulders are stardusted with love
that hint at galaxies

Comments (3)

The definitions of everything the American dream represents have skewed left overtime. Free market capitalism has come to mean corporatism, aka, fascism. Free speech has come to mean, tolerance of the politically correct only. Until recently freedom of the press has come to mean, freedom to print and airwaves if you agree with the leftist agenda. The pursuit of happiness now means how much money one can make even at the expense of others. The freedom of thought now means you are free to think what you want as long as you think like the Darwinian Evolutionists, controlling the government school and university system. Liberty has come to mean to live as a debauched libertine and the right-to-life has become a choice. God have mercy on us.

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on July 31, 2002 8:41 PM.

The previous post in this blog was Brush With Fame, Pt. II.

The next post in this blog is My Dad My dad turns.

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