It’s not easy being me, mind racing to nowhere
Images flooding in, ungoverned or restricted
Its not easy being me, alone amongst the masses
Detached, a distant enigma seeking truth
Its not easy being me, trapped within a decaying shell
Confined to the exploration of a my own soul
Its not easy being me, obsessed with observation
Resigned to obscurity without redemption
Its not easy being me, feared and rarely trusted
Seeking only to bring light to a world grown cold
And yet it’s impossible to be anyone else
An aging knight chasing windmills through time
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
(Self-published. Please contact author directly to order.)
Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
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it aint easy bein me
Josie
`10 is not near enough!
So much truth, wonderful flow!
*APPLAUSE* Standing ovation!!
~Jen