sometimes my words hits a vein so much so the poem leaks blood I've forgiven everybody except the one who seared my soul so my pen pierces a vein an artery maybe diluting the ink which courses through it its all symbolic anyway don't'ja'know its better than writing on my skin in the vein it is hidden and I can act as if it doesn't damage me pretending hiding from truth words about broken dreams dreams can be purchased with a handfull of falling stars maybe a measure of self-respect are my words mightier than my traumatized backward glances
Some of the best lines ever written were written in blood. And probably some of the worst (Charles Manson). But your words often bleed freely on the page to our delight.
"except the one who seared my soul" as far as I am concerned Jerry, your words will always be mightier then the festered wound of ignorant people. I love your beautiful tender heart, may it continue beating for the next year and the next and the next, Until God decides to lay you in his loft next to the angels. Have a wonderful year , Jer, love and hugs. xo
Sixty-seven days after departing Flores Island in Europe’s westernmost waters, the schooner Heimdall and her stalwart crew has finally arrived at the mysterious Isla Socorro in the Revillagigedo Archipelagoes. The discoveries they make are astounding
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Love ya!
Jane
Ron
with a handful //
of falling stars."
Wow. That just about says it all. I won't ruin it with further comment.
Sandie