Introduction

For the love and passion of words. Send me a poem or prose and I will post it here. Send your words to tj@tjginn.com Words are all we have.

One can be stifled and intimidated by the magnanimous mind and never feel accomplished enough to express oneself.

That is the design of the masters of the glass bead game who at the pinnacle of their narcissism are found hanging another piece of paper on the wall to award their accomplishment.

I do not disrespect certification but only dream of a world where licensing did not equate to a right to life or opportunity. I only dream to be free from corruption, nepotism, and the clandestine passage of rights granted to the privileged.

You cannot learn enough, study enough, work enough or try hard enough to avoid the next critic lurking to prove you unworthy.

Critics are as numerous as roaches in garbage.

Just get rid of the garbage and your metaphysical solipsism is complete. It is not enough that Van gogh was ridiculed by the contemporaries and is quoted to say, "I wish they would only take me as I am." People even to this day must comment on his work rather than just look at it and with the greatest respect and say nothing.


Sunday, August 12, 2012

Longing


Tell the birds to stop their singing.
Tell the butterflies to go away.
Tell the bells to stop their ringing
Tell the colors to turn to gray.

Have the clocks to stop their ticking.
Have the children stop their play.
Have the harpist stop her picking.
Have the moon to go away.

Stop the river from its flowing.
Stop the stars and crystal sky.
Stop the breezes from their blowing.
Stop all wonders by and by.

Count the minutes I am mourning.
Count the tear drops from my eyes.
Count the depth of this fore longing.
Count the anguish where it lies.

Please the minstrel to stop playing.
Please the singers to go away.
Please the dancers stop their dancing
Please the pain to stop I pray.

All if this because I miss you.

No comments:

Post a Comment