I am

I am tangled in indecision

I am tangled in references to the past

I am tangled forever in meaningless tasks

I am tangled in my demons

I am tangled in love and lust

I am tangled in friendships

Some turmoil

I am tangled in thought, in

Consciousness

I am tangled for tangles sake

Above all, I am simply tangled

I am.

SFK

UNTANGLED

I see my reflection in everything that was

See my direction become untangled all at once

Untangling for future ends reborn

SFK

DREAM OF THE DISENGAGED

Unsettling images bombard my sleep

In waves, they wash over the artists eye

Reality in the deepest depths, I reap

And not waking,

Not waking, I sit and cry

For the past that keeps repeating

For the future clouded in fear

For my youth that I am keeping

As if in a jar for some later year

And the years they do roll by

As these years and dreams ne’er collide

In present tense, into a dream within a dream

And not waking, I sit and cry

For the past that always looms

For the future seen with hope

For my age forewarned of doom

As I carry on and helplessly grope

At waking

SFK

GETTING UP

Getting up is a feat that I have yet to master

In a timely manner as I struggle on one knee

Hands prostrated and eyes straining for distance

And my back screaming with the pain of past

Endeavors that put me down and required a

Lengthy effort with soul wrenching introspection

At this very moment I am crouched and tired

But oddly optimistic with my eyes clear and

Skyward and my hands on my knees back tensed

Elbows bowed for that attempt at standing with

Great hopes of standing for a while this time

If only for a while to be closer to the sun

SFK

Great beauty hangs before me

Standing at the edge where soul meets sea

And gazing forward optimistic yet blind

To these visions of hope I bow my head, take a knee

As my new found soul meets heart and finds

Great beauty hangs before me

Floating as if in a trance sublime

Forgiveness of self and world entwined

To my love I render past lives to die

Forever longing the future I find

Great beauty hangs before me

She stands laughing now at the sunrise bliss

With dancing shadows of presents mist

In fall leaves do turn a dying gaze

To spring, new life and thoughts of days

As great beauty hangs before me

SFK

SHORT ODE TO THE FUTURE AND STORMS

There’s a storm coming,

Cleansing in leaf ripping magnitude.

Sitting underneath as branches creak and bend,

I see now the beginning, not the end

Of sunlight there seems a calm of spirit.

An artists balm of deep regard

For futures undreamt, our past unfolds

Into longing

For the future I behold

And for the future, I love the storm.

SFK

Faith and Heroes


I don't believe in heroes, but i've got a second rate
fatalism
I have faith in the future
but time is elusive
Deeper visions, bigger lies
these illusions tie us to a higher high
Looking forward, feeling no warmth
Looking forward to some peace of
mind
Darkness
It can only take as long as it does to say
goodbye

And From A Dream, I Sleep

There's a storm coming, there's a storm coming, there's a
storm coming.

These were my thoughts as I awoke one morning. These thoughts, and the unmistakable feelings of fear and doom. Like a rabbit gone tharn, I sat up in bed - Trying to gather the fleeing memories of a dream.

I was alone in my room. And outside, the calm, incessant sounds of life. The occasional car passing. A group of kids are playing in the street. The neighbors dog is barking.

Everything is normal.

Dig It

Well, It seems we are finally going to find out if "Brushy Bill" Roberts was actually the infamous William "The Kid" Bonney. I can't be the only one that had the "who cares?" flag pop up when they announced this in the paper. I think the need for a nickname says it all. After being forced to take another identity, I guess old billy felt that he had to jazz up his new name a bit.
Where does archeology end and just plain curiosity begin? It's one thing to dig up mummies in Egypt, but quite another to disturb the graves of three, recently dead, people in order to extract DNA. Have we really become so disrespectful of our dead? If, in my family, no one remembers what dress my great great grandmother buried in, we are not allowed to just dig her up and check. I suppose we could call this billy the kid episode "Mob Curiosity". Why, also, would anyone be proud of claiming a cold blooded killer as an ancestor? We don't really see anyone clamoring to be Hitlers' kin.

Living in Echo

Does anyone else feel like they are moving through life, not on a strictly linear path, but rather tumbling along the concussion wave of a continuous echo?
...yeah, me neither.