Hurts

One is forgiveness
and two is addiction.
They are not my hurts anymore;
they belong to the one I still hope to explain.
She couldn’t hurt me.

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Shadows in the False Light

Shadows are drawn
In the light.
They take to being found out,
Pulled down,
Because they’re there to show us something.
Selfless creatures,
They arrive and depart,
Hoping we’ve been expanded.

Racing their Flags to the Ocean

Zap dang crock and then the pages fall off
for what is the true blue egg of the dragon going to do
when all around is full of mud not even worth listening to?
I don’t think it at all, it just happens.
You know what the outburst from friends in the city
said racing their flags to the ocean>
I do belong here
Embrace me and take me to London
To home
We’re always so everywhere
Are we not Frankensteins watching the outbursts
The whales with the dolphins
The funnels with the water
We’re a meaning to make it all better
The logic to make it all clearer.
Not clearer, it’s not.
It’s forgotten.
So tell me
Why
Trying is brokenness.
Really and
It’s not even noon.
Calm down if it’s all about all your potential.
But if you want change
just let calm take control

No, that I guess doesn’t sound right.
You can be control,
So then don’t let them have it.
But no one’s control
You know
and then you have the answer.
I guess, but then who really knows.
Broken eggs won’t become mulch
If delicious.
No, that isn’t true.
You can’t know.

Stanzas – by Emily Bronte

Often rebuked, yet always back returning
To those first feelings that were born with me,
And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning
For idle dreams of things which cannot be:

To-day, I will seek not the shadowy region;
Its unsustaining vastness waxes drear;
And visions rising, legion after legion,
Bring the unreal world too strangely near.

I’ll walk, but not in old heroic traces,
And not in paths of high morality,
And not among the half-distinguished faces,
The clouded forms of long-past history.

I’ll walk where my own nature would be leading:
It vexes me to choose another guide:
Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding;
Where the wild wind blows on the mountain side.

What have those lonely mountains worth revealing?
More glory and more grief than I can tell:
The earth that wakes one human heart to feeling
Can centre both the worlds of Heaven and Hell.