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Dreaming of the Day When it's Their Turn

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  • Dreaming of the Day When it's Their Turn

    I'd like to think of myself as freed not separated
    perhaps liberated;
    A $hit-ton of weight off my soul, but at the same
    time it was a comfortable albeit tolerable burden;

    Why can't I write about something else?
    Hmmmmm? Damnit!!!

    Where do I go? Follow the fleeting dollar?
    Addiction to a concept, A better way, a more
    skilled professional whore?
    I think Bette Midler really nailed it " Did you ever know you were my hero? You're everything I'd would like to be. I can fly higher than an eagle. You are the wind beneath my wings"

    Smoke; a tattoo awaits the flesh of it's
    If you carved into your bone then filled it in
    with colour, would your skeleton tell the story
    of its own scrimshaw? Would the dagger of your thigh, be inscribed with mystic runes glow, with a supernatural light of its own???

    Imagine sinking your teeth into something that's still
    drawing breath
    The being would instantly sense it's own impending doom
    Why even care, in this cruel red tie wearing World?

    Attachment, enthralling visions and pungent aromas
    Bare bones and carapaces, notched blades, well
    worn battle scars, diminish the thought of turning
    Attempting to realize something, anything that hasn't been
    thought of yet

    Thoughts are memories that haven't been born yet
    till we write them down, they cease to exist
    Are we just thoughts that were given life? We only
    stuck around because someone decided to write us down
    If we only exist as a memory, and someone doesn't write us
    down, or capture us on film, we cease to have even existed
    at all
    Not so bad, ceasing to exist; some of us achieve a sort
    of fecund immortality if our story's told again and again
    Our songs are sung through the ages

    What is belief, but the desire for a thought to stay?
    If thought enough, the obsession may gain physical form
    We'll subconciously manifest these avatars
    What are good and evil but points of view?
    Depending on what you choose to believe, one becomes friend or foe
    Neutrality becomes ambivalence, not so much selfish;
    but a way of dancing around giving a $hit one way
    or another;

    My tears are perfect oceans
    each a world unto themselves, what does the tears
    crystal look like?
    What manner of creature calls them home?
    Where eyes become the twin suns of these worlds
    Giving birth to new souls dreaming of the
    day, when its their turn...
    Last edited by OneidaDreamer; 05-30-2007, 12:19 AM. Reason: It needed it and I want it to be seen by more folk; now that I'm a presence on this site.

  • #2
    Thoughts Meandering

    I wrote this the day before I was discharged out of the Navy. June 5 2006. It was a heavy duty fork in my short life...


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