Out on the Balcony

There is a place for me
It's lined with trees
The road is long and straight
And the path leads somewhere I do not know
The sun breaks through the trees in only small patches
So as one walks down the lonely avenue
Patches of gold cross your path
Sometimes another may join me on my walk
Other times I find myself alone
Leaves fall down
Trees grow old
But this place of mine is always here
It's always real
Never fake
So many times I've walked down this road
Thinking of all things that swirl in my head
Figuring out mysteries
Planning speeches I'll never use
It all happens here
On my lonely road
Maybe you have a hill
A mountain top retreat
I have a road
It takes me somewhere
There is a destination at the end
I don't know what that resting place is
But I know it's mine
So I'll see you out on my road
As you stand on your mountain
Or call from the top of the hill
Either way let's take what life gives us
And then run down the pathway

Let there be stories.

So let's sit before the fire, and hear a great yarn
Tell me of great things and little things
I want to hear tales of the city and I want to hear stories from the barn
Don't stray from this mythical path
Reality doesn't exist here, not even math
Keep true to the spirit of great tales
No lessons of science or history please
I'd rather be caught in a frightful gale
Tell me of magic
Tell me of might
Relay the great fables of war and of night
I want to hear horror
I want to hear love
Just please don't tell me of your christmas gloves
So Im sitting here
And your sitting there
Tell me a story
It's only fair

I've sat here quite often.

This place seems very familiar to me
There are things and people that I have seen
Places and memories that flood my head
Yet I don't remember a thing
Living a life that was surely my own
Not remembering what or who this man was
Walking through an open country field
The sight of stars overhead cast a light on this path
There is a hill in the distance
A place for rest and deep thinking
The lone tree that breaks the landscape
Rises high above everything else
Like a watch tower on a mountain
The tree keeps watch over all with it's smooth trunk and long, elegent branches
The seat at the base of the tree is unoccupied
And I soon find myself sitting
No tree feels like this one
This entire world seems like home
Brain working in over time
I try and relax
Peace soon floods through my body
It's never been this easy
So questions begin to rise
Why am I here
What Happened
Did I die?

Word O' the Day.

My door is open tonight
It usually stays that way because I hope you'll come home
I want to see your face
To touch your skin
But I know that this wasn't not meant to be
Your gone, and I noticed
But I never quite cared
You left a long time ago
And I was never scared
The thought of you
Is much better than the real person
Because the thought can't hurt me
It won't judge me
No scars will be left
So maybe it's just best if you leave
I wish you safe travels
And the best hopes go to
But never come back
Beacuse the door will be closed.

Free Flow Sucka.

This wasn't planned. I haven't editted or even thought of what I'm about to write. It's all going from my head to my keyboard to you. Don't laugh.

As the shirt hang in my closet
They always grow older
Fashions fade away 
But all the shirts still hang there 
Some haven't been worn for years and years
Holding some dear and will not be thrown into a pile of give aways
It makes me think of the memories I have
Most hold pain and ditress 
My brain won't let them go
They help form the path I walk each day
The pain of before helps keep the smile there
I won't repeat the same lesson more than 100 times
Eventually the point will be taken
And the shirt will be hung up 
It won't be thrown 
It will be remembered
 
Look past the mistakes here. I will not fix them, but hopefully you get a meaning from this.

Back again... After a couple weeks break.

My ship is sailing on an ocean of fear
Pushed along by the winds of anxiety 
I don't know where I'm going
But I know that life is taking me there
Sharks swim beneath my bow
Hungry to bite into my soft flesh
They are only demons imagined by me
But the pain they cause is so real 
The way to the final resting place is dangerous 
Filled with nightmares from my own hand
And they feast on my doubting mind 
I will prevail though 
When I set foot on these distant shores
I may be bloody and worn 
But not defeated
I will not lay down in submition 
To something that was not created by God
These demons are my own 
But I'll fight them with my Father
My FATHER 

No Point Really..

Today, I'm just going to lay back and let the writing figure out where to go.

So I sit here with nothing put paper and words
No direction or space to occupy 
Sometimes I get lost on this magical journey
And end up in place that I don't recognize as my own
It's all part of the life experience
To feel the sun on my back
With the wind smelling something like adventure
I don't know where I'm going
These two feet of mine and my head seem to know the way
Somehow I'll find myself some place that feels like home
In a field with the one I love
And the stars above to tell me that I still can find the way
I don't know where I'm going and
Frankly I don't care

Funny after the thought at the beginning this writing took place. I guess this works. See you next post faithful, lonely blog.