Prose From the Soul: A Note From the Underdog

More than the moments in late spring
or when when the first few carnivals took to the town
like the one at St Raphael’s at the birth of summer,
and more than the summer nights,
more than the hot festivals
or the late night venues;
or more than the place where people danced
or swayed beneath flashing lights
and neon colors in places like The Limelight
or The Tunnel –

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Prose From the Soul: Both Missions – Before and After

Both missions – Before and after

1)

Wintertime, 1990 (February, I believe)

I never thought that this would be me
here, living on a farm somewhere up north
short haired and disciplined or should I say “leashed”
or healed like a dog who ran too wildly.
I was north of everything I knew.
I was north of the only living that my young life could understand.

After all, this was supposed to be the time of my life.
I was young, which is for certain and yet,
I was lost in plain sight

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Prose From the Soul: Openhearted

This is a short poem that was written to set a few things free. This was written on a white screen that was blank in the beginning with a white glow shining on my face and reflection in my eyes.
This was begun before the sun or before the hours when my alarm clock songs; but more importantly, this was written with the intention to purge the soul.

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Prose From the Soul: A Brief Adventure

There it is, a great big world which is right outside of our door. This is alive and well, even if we don’t choose to see it.
I think, of course, and wonder of places such as certain cities, like say, places that I’ve only seen in pictures, like San Francisco or maybe Wyoming or even Alaska.
Or then again, my pilgrimage to anywhere could begin from anywhere; in which case, I have this urge to board a train and ride the railroads that span across our country. This way, I can see it all. 

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