Author Information
The Heart and the Harvest
The attitudes of a knife
Change with a whet stone
Sliding back and forth
Waiting for a moment
To slide into purpose,
I have always been interested
In the observations of a person
And my empathy for them
At two a.m. peering inward
For a brief understanding,
Now I don't do drugs presently
But I've done enough to respect them
Because when you're not getting
What you need
A supplement seems to compliment
The mood of the master,
I've used people as drugs
And I've sought out popularity
To make my heart slow
But the beating seems infinite
When I'm back home
With only myself to keep me company,
I wrench my gears around thoughts
And apply myself to being happy
But there is an absence
I can't quite seem to fill
And I'm having a hard time dealing
But the spokes on the wheel
Keep spinning
So I won't let a little thing like worry
Stop me from being me,
I'm jealous of children Laughing
Cos I can't seem to bust a laugh
That feels earnest
I see them guffaw
Whole heartedly
And hold their bellies
Like tomorrow could stop short
But they wouldn't mind
Having a good time till then,
I seek a path in troubled pines
Knowing that I can't right the wrongs
Of the mind
So I move ahead away from those
Instances of offenses I keep
Bottled up like trapped princes
Wrapped in royal rugs
We hold for ransom
In the basements of great mansions
We bought from memory,
I put one foot in front of the other
To guide me and this momentum
Will connect me in human circuitry
On a board of war torn anxiousness
Vying for comfort in conquered hearts,
The sweating makes me nervous
And the wind makes me dream
I see myself now
In everyone
In everything
Feels Like . . .
an autobiographical adventure by the time you reach the end. Love the last two lines bye the bye. "...troubled pines..." simply state the emoting - well writ Mr. C
.