Dont talk to the mail-man
I saw him hide his face in the dirt
As we all fled past
From the coming sandstorm
And the morning mist
The way the angry drivers
Get in the way of my path to progress
And regress
Till all is quiet and dust on the hill-tops.
Atleast the mail will get through...
Sunday, November 23, 2003
Fatherhood
I am carrying the torch you Handed me Not handed. Placed Carefully This is sacred space. Was the carrying so heavy for you as well? Were yo...
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It must have been love That sort of thing Can't be mistaken For a lesser set of feelings It has a special hat And makes you welcome at p...
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She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
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I’m tired I’m tired of my heart giving out Whenever it gives in That things being the same Never makes a difference Of looking forwards to s...
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