The following was a private venting of the bad feelings of the times -- a means for catharsis, but someone urged me to place it on my blog:
SOME DAYS IT FEELS LIKE...
My heart is more than broken.
It is pierced by shards
Of human toil and turmoil.
All that may be spoken
About all the broken accords
Cannot redeem our soil.
But dirt is just where it ends
And where it all begins again,
Trucking through this bloody muck.
From somewhere something sends --
When you decide to begin again --
Something as strong as the word Fuck,
Stronger than the idea of God,
Something inside you -- Call it pluck.
1 comment:
wonderful...thanks, Emmett
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