A few words from our sponsors
So, here are a couple more terrible pieces of literary butchery to amuse the masochist in all of you who read this stuff.
I watch the fire askance
And see the smoke dance.
It reminds me of you,
Of how I lost you too.
And in the night I see
Amidst the fire-light a sea,
And I’m afloat and free,
But you just won’t let me be.
And all these tunes are nothing
They just stir my heart to something,
And in the fire-light I ask
Where ever I found this mask.
And in the night I see
Amidst the fire-light a sea,
And I’m afloat and free,
But you just won’t let me be.
And in the smoke there’s you.
Spinning and dancing too.
I turn away,
But still you sway.
And in the night I see,
Amidst the fire-light a sea,
And I’m afloat and free,
But you just won’t let me be.
I stare into the fire,
And am stuck in this mire,
That reminds me of your bright light
As hard as I try and fight.
I wrote this while my plane was landing in LGA after a conference in Missouri. It was late, almost 11 in the pm, and the lights of long island reminded me of a swirling sea of tiny candles. It’s a beautiful site, one I’ll not soon forget. But, like anything beautiful, there are painful memories attached. Too many were the times that she met me at the airport, coming back from trips like that one, or at the apartment after I had gotten back.
The dregs of humanity
Are in a way my family
As tonight we wander
These streets and ponder
How we got to this
Such streets as these.
Glittering lights glow
Advertisements shining to and fro
They beckon us to decadence
But leave us with only penance
Some of us mutter and hiss
Something others pretend to miss.
So these streets I walk
But to my fellow dregs I do not talk
For they are all mad
And I can see how they need a fix bad
For those ringing sounds
Paid for with flesh by the pounds.
After walking the streets of Atlantic City, NJ, for a week, you get to see a bit of the local color of the place. It’s rather frightening, I have to say, the addiction apparent in so many of the faces of the people there. Hearing the arguments of the people in the room next to mine at 11pm or having people beg for coins on the street, knowing they’ll be using it on the nearest slot machine.
I’ve written more, but that will come later. Time for sleep, right this moment.
I watch the fire askance
And see the smoke dance.
It reminds me of you,
Of how I lost you too.
And in the night I see
Amidst the fire-light a sea,
And I’m afloat and free,
But you just won’t let me be.
And all these tunes are nothing
They just stir my heart to something,
And in the fire-light I ask
Where ever I found this mask.
And in the night I see
Amidst the fire-light a sea,
And I’m afloat and free,
But you just won’t let me be.
And in the smoke there’s you.
Spinning and dancing too.
I turn away,
But still you sway.
And in the night I see,
Amidst the fire-light a sea,
And I’m afloat and free,
But you just won’t let me be.
I stare into the fire,
And am stuck in this mire,
That reminds me of your bright light
As hard as I try and fight.
I wrote this while my plane was landing in LGA after a conference in Missouri. It was late, almost 11 in the pm, and the lights of long island reminded me of a swirling sea of tiny candles. It’s a beautiful site, one I’ll not soon forget. But, like anything beautiful, there are painful memories attached. Too many were the times that she met me at the airport, coming back from trips like that one, or at the apartment after I had gotten back.
The dregs of humanity
Are in a way my family
As tonight we wander
These streets and ponder
How we got to this
Such streets as these.
Glittering lights glow
Advertisements shining to and fro
They beckon us to decadence
But leave us with only penance
Some of us mutter and hiss
Something others pretend to miss.
So these streets I walk
But to my fellow dregs I do not talk
For they are all mad
And I can see how they need a fix bad
For those ringing sounds
Paid for with flesh by the pounds.
After walking the streets of Atlantic City, NJ, for a week, you get to see a bit of the local color of the place. It’s rather frightening, I have to say, the addiction apparent in so many of the faces of the people there. Hearing the arguments of the people in the room next to mine at 11pm or having people beg for coins on the street, knowing they’ll be using it on the nearest slot machine.
I’ve written more, but that will come later. Time for sleep, right this moment.