The Wastings

Click. The sound of a spark, or the snap of a radio when you first turn it on. It could be the sound of nature like the beetle that goes click. Click. You’ve heard it before, you know what I mean, but I wonder… have you ever heard it like I hear it. Always just…

A dreary day for love and lovers – this cold and wet Valentines Day; Sitting alone, glancing at each other, both hoping the other will not go away. The banners and signs all bright and pink, they’re supposed to make us feel better; As I sit here alone, I wonder, I think, just how much…

To the slaughter daily is led a gentle soul that we are fed, mercy pleas fall on ears so deaf from a heart whence love is bereft. They claim supreme, all mankind, so out of tune and out of time one day to rise up and find the mellow source of natures rhyme. Not boxed…

So, you have come back. Has it been twenty years? You look as if it has been forty. Gray hair ragged and tattered, so thin I can see your skull; Wasn’t it once blonde and beautiful? Yes, I have a picture here, it is now as wrinkled as you. Time has not been kind, my…

The news you’re gonna see when you view the evening T.V., The news you’re gonna read in the only rag in this town, is spoon fed pablum for the masses. And if you don’t choke while it’s going down you deserve to sit there on your ass, you deserve what you’ve been passed as reality…

It’s a broken off piece of wing on the ground before me. It won’t fly or ever grow back. It reminds me that I’m sad. Grounded as I am in life, a prisoner of my reality, I cannot fly, I can not fly, to escape my tragedy. Blue sky, green blooms abound, Colors of warmth…