| "A Red River Home" |
| Working with Hurt |
 Dreamer Dead the dream gone up in smoke like ash ground under your heal was it lack of money and being broke made you forget how love should feel. You never needed much in the way of goods sure glad, cause there wasn't much here but a body needs fuel so when you ran out of food I guess your pride felt it better to steal. It was never the money or hawking my gun that brought the shadow over my soul it was the fact that even after two long years you still had no plans, no vision, no goal. You went down the road dust at your back thinking that the love was gone from my heart what I tried to explain as you were walking away love always will be, even though we're so far apart.  A Puppet Dance Hurts we field in different ways, we each address them everyday suffering takes a certain style, a victims lot if you compile a lifetime of hurts and woes, and on and on the theory goes until at some point you jump down, plant your feet on the ground. Some say kindness is what they seek, kind to whom you ask so meek one persons kindness anothers woe and on and on the theories go. I cannot walk in someones shoes so it makes it hard to offer clues to why their life should be remote, yet they find that if they wrote they could clear their mind, set things straight, turn their life into a figure 8 I know he had a running chance but without your legs, its a puppet dance. Words can be more brutal that blows, so when I am hurt, I write. It is mainly for my own peace of mind, but some very good poems have come from some very bad times.........Well bad times are good for something... All Lies I have letters to prove he loved me, I have pictures to prove he cared, or was it all lies hiding behind those fake eyes lost it all, for he truly just used me. I have songs that he sang just for me, And memories of loves heat that we shared, or was it all lies hiding behind those fake eyes lost it all, for he truly just used me. I often wondered why his stories didn't jive, and I chose to ignore his facts didn't seem right, but I didn't want to see lies hiding in my loves eyes, but in my heart, I knew he used me. He lived in my house for a year until I noticed things begin to disappear when confronted he lied how can you realize the hurt in my eyes and in my heart I know he used me. Dear John Letters Tis a funny thing how times can change when we are so far away when once the letters did flood the mail where silence now consumes each day. Words once flowed like a babbling brook I wrote so full of life your missiles seems sometimes remote but then who knows what strife. So on we trudged alone and time passed by the ticking in my ears i often wondered if my world would stop I always had those fears. So now the fates have lent their hand and seems my path is set but still I find I shall remember when our words filled up the internet. Questions Emotional waves, lifes ebb and flow looking inward to see if I feel anymore I once felt such expression, applause and good cheer but time rolls you over whats up nows unclear. Yesterday's choices bring with them a price and living a lie is not very nice changing to what, we are who we am a squirrel to a nut, as woman to man. You shake me I rattle, you squeaze me I leave air is my habit and I still like to breathe. freedom to sit or freedom to go She questions the questions but she answers no more. No Free Rides What importance this, the wealth of worldly goods does love rest upon this scale so grossly misunderstood. But how can we live, and coast from day to day when there is never enough money to help us on our way. He says that love can not be measured by gold or silver round yet within the same breath wishes for luxury by the pound I know that some of the best in life can be for free but finding them takes some time and who is feeding me. It's often a heated discussion, for once the power rates are low we fuel these arguments opposing each other regarding dole. No such thing in life as a free ride on this train there's a hand out, for every planned out, conjecture in your brain. |
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