Half My Life a Dream, I Long for Fallen Blossoms
Over the wintry
Forest, winds howl in rage
With no leaves to blow.
It is at the cusp of a lonely road that I find myself, meandering there towards the end, where at the beginning I ran, half my life now gone like a dream, a dream that seemed so grand and noble, but could not be fulfilled by a will so weak. Where once a child wanted to save the world, to a failure of a man at the end of the lonely road, standing there as the gods look on and say, o’ the sham, how did we waste such a strong and healthy body, such an inquisitive mind, on a soul so pale and pathetic?
Even the wind seems quiet here. The distant stars seem ever more impossibly far and cold, and beneath my feet a crumbling façade of a dream falls into an abyss of time.
I look back once again at the road behind that led me here, at that childhood dream of a free world. The way twists and turns, and parts of the road are still covered by the debris of ambiguity, by my lack of courage and the inability to find closure.
But ahead of me at the end of this road, there is no mystery, no opaqueness, and the way is clear. In that endless pit of time I will reside as a failure, and there my destiny I will meet.
Inspired by My Thirty-Three Year's Dream by Tōten Miyazaki
Caught in a time warp
A village, a museum
a living breathing
Caught over a hundred
years in the past
strung end on end
to general store
to the mansion
ten pew church
each joined to the
next by the spidery web
of narrow pine boards
ten feet wide
Floor length skirts
catch on splintered spikes
bare feet calloused from
does not care
staff or visitor
together or apart
until it ends
explore an old mine
the railroad turntable turned by
a team of draft horses
the theater across
a grande green lawn
the old fort on the cliff
return to the boardwalk
leading to the gate
package of sour dough bread
hard candy sticky in paper bags
the towers of city center
soaring on the horizon
The End of the Boardwalk
and dreams of a simpler time
The Adventures of Tintin 2011
Tintin is one of my favorite movies. I love the graphics, humor, and the thrill of the unknown. I could honestly watch it once a week every week and never get sick of it! All around I think it's a movie the whole family will love.
so true to my heart
that says it all
of how I feel.
Its a letter constantly questioning its own existence.
Y do I exist?
Y am I real?
I will take your hand
and maybe it will be rough
and maybe it has dirt on it
and maybe the fingers aren't the prettiest
but I know this hand has held the darkest moments
I know it has thrown rocks for self protection against
I know it has been stabbed when it has reached out to be shaken
I will take this hand
and I will hold it
because even after all it has been through,
I know it will still hold back.
Even from a long ways away,
you have a hold on me,
its magical to think about
until I think about who might
have been with you, in your bed
and I feel sad for the both of us,
that girl and I,
we will always be fighting each other
and will never know it.
There is something in me that is troubling.
Something that hasn't always been there.
It's strong enough to be hate, and fragile enough
to be my self esteem.
It's not like me to like the dark but I am comfortable here.
I don't want to be.
I want to fight it, I want to find a way to move,
get up, pull back the curtains, go outside, talk to someone.
But how can I talk to someone when I feel like everyone is
just waiting for the perfect opportunity to use me?
To stab me in the back when I least expect it?
How can I let anyone in after that.
It's lonely here but I know I am in company with myself,
and I trust her.
I think she is strong enough to bring me back without help.
Again and again, I heard fingernails raking a blackboard. I was relieved when the horrid sound stopped, but then I felt the nails raking the flesh of my leg.
I’m just sitting in a blast crater
with the jagged pieces of myself,
just sitting and inspecting,
maybe waiting for the vultures.
In the past I’d pick the shards up,
place them the best I could,
get up and just start moving
to some haphazard destination,
but this time there’s nowhere left to go.
And even if there were an Emerald City on the horizon,
there are others here with me,
and I’m busy picking up their pieces,
so here I sit
watching the smoke and fog dance,
swirl and play like children,
and though I can’t see them,
I know the vultures are out there somewhere
circling with hungry eyes.