realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com
Reality Bytes: Re-creation
http://realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com/2012/06/re-creation.html
Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks." Simonides, 6th-5th century, B.C. Saturday, June 9, 2012. I am rebuilding remodeling remolding me I am retooling refueling rethinking myself I am reminded reguided refocused on me I am refining redefining resigning the old me I am recentering relearning returning to myself, me. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). This Coyote Writes Well. Rabbit in Red Lounge. Insanity of my mind. This Penguin Can Fly. View my complete profile.
realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com
Reality Bytes: harbinger
http://realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com/2011/09/harbinger.html
Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks." Simonides, 6th-5th century, B.C. Thursday, September 22, 2011. She spoke in hushed tones. I could hear her voice in the wind. The trees, the grass. She spoke in whispers. Time and time again". She repeated in every natural tongue. You failed me yet again". I cried and listened and shook. She spoke the truth. On the petals of a rose. And the barb of the thorn. She revealed the wishes. Never granted, never fulfilled. You will see me again".
realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com
Reality Bytes: October 2011
http://realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html
Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks." Simonides, 6th-5th century, B.C. Friday, October 14, 2011. Like an old black and white. Like a flash bulb. Ever search for something. Put forth so much effort. That when you finally. Found what you were looking for. You had no idea what to do next? You feel like you come to a complete stop. And expect a miracle. Or a miraculous change. But nothing is different. It's still the same old you. I feel like that sometimes. Be left feeling sad.
realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com
Reality Bytes: September 2010
http://realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com/2010_09_01_archive.html
Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks." Simonides, 6th-5th century, B.C. Friday, September 24, 2010. The death of a dream. I had always hoped. For a common bond. A heart to share the word. The beating goes on alone. Becomes the tattoo of the sadness. And the search continues. Til my dying day. Into the hearts of the man. Brevity is the word of the day. Keep it simple and quick. I believed the word of a liar. Does that make the liar more so,. Or me the even bigger. I know for sure.
realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com
Reality Bytes: I'm not
http://realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com/2011/04/im-not.html
Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks." Simonides, 6th-5th century, B.C. Friday, April 1, 2011. Though I 'm numb. Though I am here. I'm not a lot of things. And I will be one more. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). This Coyote Writes Well. Rabbit in Red Lounge. Insanity of my mind. This Penguin Can Fly. A poem should not mean/But be" - Archibald MacLeish. View my complete profile. Simple template. Template images by luoman.
realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com
Reality Bytes: July 2011
http://realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com/2011_07_01_archive.html
Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks." Simonides, 6th-5th century, B.C. Saturday, July 23, 2011. Only an idea really. By a figment of wind. A ghost of a thought. Onto the edge of consciousness. A blink of an eye. A flash - it's gone. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). This Coyote Writes Well. Rabbit in Red Lounge. Insanity of my mind. This Penguin Can Fly. A poem should not mean/But be" - Archibald MacLeish. View my complete profile. Simple template. Template images by luoman.
realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com
Reality Bytes: 14
http://realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com/2010/12/14.html
Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks." Simonides, 6th-5th century, B.C. Friday, December 31, 2010. I wish you larger. But time is a killer. It speeds when I slow. No where to go. Oh God I've tried. But belief is weak. And the pull is great. Like you know me. If you want ot make a difference. Then talk to me. Would be so much more. Will we ever know? Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). This Coyote Writes Well. Rabbit in Red Lounge. Insanity of my mind. This Penguin Can Fly.
realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com
Reality Bytes: January 2011
http://realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html
Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks." Simonides, 6th-5th century, B.C. Tuesday, January 18, 2011. Sometimes I can't get it right. And I look deep inside. And my inner child is weeping. Sometimes I can't get enough. And I look deep inside. And my inner child is sleeping. Sometimes I can't get away. So I look deep inside. And my inner child is laughing. Sometimes I can't get focused. So I stare deep inside. And my inner child is cracking. That little bastard needs to die.
realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com
Reality Bytes: June 2012
http://realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com/2012_06_01_archive.html
Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks." Simonides, 6th-5th century, B.C. Saturday, June 9, 2012. I hold the large black and white picture in my palms,. To accommodate for its size and fragility. The worn edges crumble lightly, sending a cascade. Of history, battered and yellowed, to the floor. I stare through water stains at a young man, unsmiling;. He wears the garb of a World War One soldier,. All creases and wool, leggings and boots. A single ring adorns his left hand. They wil...
realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com
Reality Bytes: zero
http://realityisimmaterial.blogspot.com/2013/03/zero.html
Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks." Simonides, 6th-5th century, B.C. Tuesday, March 19, 2013. Why couldn’t I be enough? Why couldn’t I be strong enough? Why couldn’t my best be good enough? Why couldn’t I make you happy? Why couldn’t you let me go? Why couldn’t I walk away? When does it all come together? When does the yearning stop? When will all the pieces fit? I should have walked away back then. I should have run away when you said. Touching me made you sick. 8220;Faith, h...