Middle Ground

Thoughts streaming and beaming,
striking back in a weave
of interpretive meaning.
Depriving eyes of their times
to internalize the vies
of our different lives.
Can't seem to convince
my self confidence,
of the truth that hides
behind my longing-to-be blind eyes.
Quiet with no thought,
and speaking with only sound,
allows my true opinions to be found.
One can only stay in Limbo for so long,
when not knowing the intentions
of all who are involved.
Bright Eyes may help me see
whats inside of me.
But Sweet Sugar Plum
will always be with me.
My need to be free
comes striking to me.
Since all I know
is what I allow it to mean.
How long can I wait
until it wont come back to me,
and I see myself
for what I allow to be seen.

Old Rambles

1. The sun bleached man's
declaring Sam on a man.
But to young to fight right,
jus' lookin' for a bed bite.
Window creepin' stare tall,
Hidden 'bove the border crawl.

Stuck inside the opaque,
now lookin' for a clear break.
Still free inside of me.
Can't come back, or let 'em see
this mountain man that's come of me.

2. I sit back and watch myself go crazy,
listening through my eyes -
and speaking through my ears -
to my peers. And see as they talk -
with their ever so dears.

Naked under their clothes,
but covered up so -
I can feel them dripping from
their soles as they crow.
Now I'm hearin' them thinkin'
as they roam 'bout the globe.
Then they stop and wonder as their buried down low.

Then they dream what I've seen,
and I see where they've been.
But to me that they'd dream,
proves to me that I've seen.
And accomplished my dreams
of who I wanted to be.