scribbling frantically
“Old man look at my life, I’m a lot like you were. Old man look at my life, I’m a lot like you were. Old man take a look at my life I’m a lot like you. I want someone to love me the whole day through. Just one look in my eyes and you can tell it’s true….”
Love Neil Young. I think he’s the artist I’d so like to meet.
So I’ve been pulling up this blog and just writing poetry on the spot. I’m going to leave something edited tonight.
transitions
transitions into inspirations
i’ve got this churning in my head
slightly missing the beat
and standing still
i know you like the book worn with time
your cover is bent and fading
and i know the pages of your story
so typical. pre determined
searching for a something
when the image stands before you
hands outstretched and waiting
for the offering
your throat works with unsaid words
bloated and red your features,your mishaps
but they are occurances felt before
and life will go on as usual
am i waiting for the movement
sweet and languid and free?
or do i keep a part of the chaos
feeding from the storms your presence creates?
you say it seems my fantasy
but you do not realize that it is only you
sharp and sweet and warming your kiss
and it’s mine always
i know you like the beat of my heart
constant and aching and needing and persistent
your covers torn and used and your pages are empty
and i’m scribbling frantically. trying to fill you up.
