Yes, I've been rifling through perfectly preserved remnants of my old Iowa life. You know, that old junk that you stored in your parents basement years ago, and then you failed to retrieve it, so it's become obsolete, yet there are a few buried treasures there? Yep, you have that somewhere I'm sure. Well, what I found was a lot of pictures, old sketchbooks, and some of my old musings when I had plans to be a wordsmith. I never really did consider writing, but then again, it's no more realistic than visual art, though I feel much more adept at the visual side of things. Still, I dig some of these old poems. Out of each, there's about 1 line that is really good, so I'll do a few more, omitting the rest of the words.
Seizures are in my ears
Oddly melancholy
When things are gone the tan line mocks me
Auras exploding
Lips floating
Voices travel from no one's mouth
The middle man is always the wind
I just know that you smell, taste like shit, make me and millions of others feel like shit...
and I love you.
And in your eyes I'm weak.
Solitude lends itself to concealment
That's all I can glean from the He-Man notebook. I'll put up more, maybe an excerpt from my old incomplete novel Oblivion.
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Since you've tagged this and other posts with 'HeMan notebook', does that mean that I could do an online search for 'HeMan notebook' and your poetry would pop up?
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