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Industrial Arts

artist, author and designer for the stage…

Tag Archives: writing

in truth

it has been nice

to have some time

to clear my head

to organize my thoughts

come back to this view

on this plane

right here

where everyone else is

to just slow down

finally let my thoughts to

stop racing at such a

frantic pace that my

hands can not keep up

the pace of writing

down all the words

with all the right letters

in all the right spaces

in all the right order

in any intelligible way



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backwards I walk

into the gray fog

the smog from the hills

up there over yond

the land of the spirits

the woods and the faires

the place I come from

the place I call home

you can’t follow

unless you belong here

the trees will shroud

the young ones from harm

hidden in a garden

a real secret garden

the lost ones

they dance

to the music

of pain


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the weekend today

you’re a world away

and I’m stuck

trying to figure out

my next move

to which city I go

which school to go learn

when really

it is just a matter

of who will have me

who will let me

join their happy family

join the ensemble

be a part

of a company

of like minded freaks

wanting to make

some thing greater

than the mediocre

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a new day

a new year

the sun is shining

I seem to have

no more fears

I can cry no more tears

I have nothing else

to fight

so I sit

and bask

in the glory of the sun

and wonder if this

is to be one

with god

such a small measure of peace

has found me this morning

while I sit

and think of you

the object of my yearnings

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I am

sitting here


feeling like a fool

for being

so in love

with you

should I set you free

so we can both be

that much more at ease

in life

if not

with each other?

I think not

I would nor will

ever give you up

addicted to your love

I have


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and with no form

of communication

I am left to this pen

and my journals

old school as it were

for their was once

in my life

where everything I do

was hand written

no computers

no PDFs

no internet

no screens

just me

my pen

and a blank page

it is from that

that it always may seem

I have an idea

at hand

no pressure

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I’m sitting in

the laundry room

and I forgot

my phone


I feel



what a great huge mess



have ever

thought that

I would get

so used to it

and all the


it can give

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