One day not too long ago, I was sitting on the back porch, smoking and thinking about the words. This writing. This poetry. All the reasons why it comes out of me. Its like there is this urge, uncontrollable most times this urge to express to take what the world has packed inside of my brain and my heart, and spill it back out onto papers and pages, canvas and song. The words that I have to put my feelings and observations back into the world so that maybe others can identify and we can share these things. Out of a sense of alienation. Hoping maybe I am not alone in the way I feel about things or the way these things make me feel. Through the words we have kinship. Our hearts and minds collide and the fragments of the collision rain back down onto the earth.
Posted on: Tue, 18 Nov 2014 23:02:29 +0000
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