OK This is it I give up I can take no more I'm a sitting duck I have sewn my quilts And sold my dope My skin has burned At the altar The searing sun The burning moon I see stars as diamonds And trees have spoken to me Bruises have faded And I swam in the sea But pain still will not leave me be Wolves hear my cry Roses in Ireland Isis divine Nameless one hides and i don't know why All gardens my kynder longs to see I ask for a diagnosis Screaming for love But loneliness is what abounds in me There is no end to this poem I Am attempting to create I am turning Spinning tumbling Ever so rapidly Trying to find shapes Amongst the blur Can't focus Eyes won't fixate Tears just roll Heart stays in the state of break Am I rambling? Of course I am No logic could possibly reside In this chaotic shell I call my heart soul and mind
† The years teach much which the days never know. Ralph Waldo Emerson
[This message has been edited by kynder (edited 06-08-2000).]
This reminds me of the dismal journey Alice had down the rabbit hole,esp. the latter part. Very interesting. I've written a few ramblers,but they just had nothing worthwhile in them,But it's strange,your's DOES seem to have something to it. i can't put my finger on itbut i enjoyed reading it.
And there she weaves by night and day, a magic web of colours gay.~Tennyson
if any of you have been following my writings here, i used many of the titles of my other postings in this poem. i guess i am feeling for all my effort, there is no relief. efforts are in vain to erase this pain. i greatly appreciate you even taking the time to read my ramblings. thank you thank you thank you.
The years teach much which the days never know. Ralph Waldo Emerson
Brooksville, Fl, U.S