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| Heavenly Echoes For those who treasure the written word, share your poetry, music, favourite writings and your own life experiences. |
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...just bummin 'round
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Some originals i wanted to share
just wanted to put em here so you can read em if you like,
In my world and in my space, are the things that lead to waste, of time and money, my heart does still race, a frenzied pattern of forgiveness and haste, forget now what time has done, dont be late but do not run, In this world and in this place, are the things that could take the race. |
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...just bummin 'round
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LUNAR APPOINTMENT
there is no law, although I have to say, the tides can pull me far away, distant from the trek i pursue, but always it leads me bak to you, Pomp and parade and bustin through, or dragging myself, belly up. |
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...just bummin 'round
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I now must lay in lonesome thought,
Lonesome what? Ya thats wat i thought, I who? Is labeled as you, Tagged and tormented, yup more selfish thought. |
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...just bummin 'round
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unspoiled spun
coming unfoiled, with none of the thorns that tear me away, and scatter about, shrewd pieces of a wills plot, moving down grounded this pen can create rot, a not so slow decay, down to base, nothing at all, just a thousand yard stare, not even your way. |
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...just bummin 'round
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BEING
Here, this now, a tiny box, wrapped in ribbon, but brought without, all the fortune and the fame, of giving and taking, and playing the game, careful though its barely a box, one false move and the air is without, your reality sphere, built around me, an all encompassing being will it be. |
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...just bummin 'round
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wake up sunday morning and let your passions free,
let it go like a river flows, and eventually, from the mouth you might spew forth, then you can naturally be, a small self, a tiny fish in a big sea. |
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...just bummin 'round
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Twist me around, turn me about, whip me to and fro,
its still my choice to pull the trigger, still my voice which screams in stutter, Still it burns sumthin fierce, a sword swallowed, sharpened by sin, Surpressed by remission, the revolver hammer cocks, loss of reasoning, now i roam about, Blown away, now i gather my thought, swept to a pile, now grounded, layed out |
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