When you are suspended by fate and balancing on the tightrope of destiny and when the slightest tilt can set the balance off sending you headalong in a unknown direction.
Come on over,
Come on over here
What is it that you see?
A torn chest With a gaping hole
A tight throat Grounded feet,
Hands with holes
Hollow sunken cheeks
Come on closer
Come on closer
You are looking inside of me
You are looking inside of me .
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Reviews of "Black"
Reviewed by Mustafa Chughtai (Reader)
Reviewed on March 22, 2003
...i always think of u as a good artist with a great mind ....n uve just proven that right ...like all times !!!...cheers n lotsa love ...Muss !
Reviewed by Zokhruf Ahmad
Reviewed on March 21, 2003
So, hey shez, u not only write - u draw too?? what else don't i know? :) excellent write yaaar!
Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader)
Reviewed on March 17, 2003
An excellent poem and I love the sketch too.
~E
Reviewed by Tien Avielle (Reader)
Reviewed on March 17, 2003
Darkness prevails, and the fate of the planet is on the tightrope. Who is it at the ends, holding and shaking - threatening life as we know it? (the power-players with the military muscle that seems to obstruct their brain function.) - a terrifying write.
I am too outraged to be as sad as this should make me.
Hello....This is excellent meaningful write...thought provoking i must admit...well..the picture is stunning....the whole presentation is perfect...cheers...love n luck....BHUWAN
A further collection of poems, many from years in the Middle East, but also the California San Francisco and Central Coast areas (Santa Cruz, Carmel, Big Sur, Berkeley, etc.).
My book of poetry is being redone by me, I have a beautiful cover designed and the book will have a few more than 200 poems in it. I am going to have it printed on demand here in Canada. When it is done I will let you know when it is done and if anyo
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
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~E
I am too outraged to be as sad as this should make me.
-James
Sandie Angel :o)