Submissions by Halfmoonshine

I feel that american craving
to flourish under exotic light
To dance with sudden quaking passion
but not bother to learn
I want to paint
I want to cook
I want to build and mend, create
I hate myself for laziness
but temptation lurks distracting
study, practice
study, practice
food and fun and friends all calling
and sound proof walls bring cold ideas
that I will never see the world
so many problems to little time
not enough solutions and not enough money
what do I believe in
when there is no right side ...

why is it that poets woes
stay bottled up inside a page
a screen or even
-in extreme cases-
locked inside the heart

Why is it that a poets foes
can not be fought in modern words
and are prone to paper cuts
and tend to not be human

Why is it that a poets hate
can not stay bottled up inside
and paint the world in many colors
And makes me want to dance

Why is it that a poets fate
can end up inside a noose
or outside roaming the world
or inside, reading this

feet must be drawn with wander...

We all live on our one island
isolated against the sea
rolling tumbling
not-to-be-crossed ocean
And on our one island
a single tree
with wood for bridges and boats
sail away from comfort
to find love
some wont sail away at all
and carve the wood into a figure
and rune into bark what they see
and soon
a ship arrives at shore
and over their shoulder looks a face
"That's beautiful"
they say
and the quick and hesitant response
"So are you"