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- Words of uncertainty
(From the Woodsman’s Notebook)
Lips that move and never speak, like words unsaid
that are never heard.
Tears that trickle behind closed doors. Pain and
fear to ask one; Why or What for?
Do I write to keep from going insane, or am I insane
for the way I write.
Melancholy news of mistrust and despair, a life of
uncertainty is a cross I bare.
I say what I see, and what I say is true. But too
many who are out there too blind of the truth.
- I paid for life’s lessons with blood and guts,
too keep on paying therefore a definite must.
Yes, melancholy words for a melancholy world,
mistrust is around the corner where trust can’t be
heard. So for those who are blind to the words and
the cries of despair, and those who cry alone in
their rocking chair, my words may come out one day
for all who may care.
Today I sit behind a desk of pretend wood looking,
reading and also wishing; one day just maybe; I
could.
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- A poet, a writer, writes words for all
to share, while a lyricist writes words for
all to hear. While the words that I write,
are to me still unclear. Some say they
should be songs of tragedy and love. Some
say they are prayers to God above. Yet
others claim they see hate and despair, but
yet to me the words that I feel are not just
mine alone and yes one day I may care to
share.
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- The Woodsman
12/10/04
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