Untitled Document

CLEAR

Untitled Document

Garbs Of The Street

Waiting for happiness.

Fear The Jungle

Dance With Me Celts

Remember Me Happy

Ode To You 'Above'

Crack and Cycle Again

I Dream American, I Dream Big

A Gentle Lapping

Amidst The Moon

Anything's Better

Ready For Attack

The Stump of a Young Tree

Un-Suspecting Love

What Does Distortion Create

Dont Touch Anything

These Shutters Are Getting Old

A Form of Neurosis

Opening the Lilies

Member or Guest

Synopsis of Trees

Someday They Will Be Grown

Short of Discovery

Trolling the Isle

Pompous Observations

Trouble With The Looking Glass

Bricks and Mortar

We The Living [Sacrificial Lambs]

The Halo and the Coconut

Grasps Of Bloodshed

What I Have To Do

The Rise in Fall Woolly Bear Caterpillars

Crap Shoot / Wall Climb

There Was But One Monkey

There You Stand

Stop! Spontaneous

The Final Whisper

Turning Nothing Into A Dream

Swat Team Manifesto

Everything's Different

Cut Throat Curiosity

Dungy Rooms and Dark Alleys

The Whole Goddamn Fort Went Down

Assumptions Closing In On Me

High Up in the Mountain Tops

poem id SELECT * FROM poems WHERE poem_id = '66'

DATE		Display		Priority
Title
Body	Now that I am poor again I feel the most at ease. I have psychologized it down to issues of self esteem, motherly complexes and, I have completed the triad, with rationalizing it as an ethical problem. Just because I don't carry the same values as you does not mean I am not me. Just because my parents raised me doesn't mean I cannot think for myself. Just because one needs the most does not mean they get the most. All of these ideas I have ramsacked and then I recovered. I am poor and I am happy. Perhaps the happiness was always there. But swimming with your clothes on can quickly turn to drowning.
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