My words are a direct reflection of what is being played out in my mind. For artistic purpose and dramatic effect I have duct-tapped the "edit" button…
What happens when time slips and echos turn into soft murmurs that you don’t recognize any longer but there is something familiar in the wind the way it skims gently across your cheeks tussles your hair playful what happens when you are humming a tune but can’t remember the words or the name of the song but you know you always loved it what …
Walking the shoreline winter winds toss sea foam into the air - (Yes I digress) a familiar tag line used so often, the past collides with the present - life and all of its ups and downs and glory. Glory, its intentions; seriously not lost on me. ...and as if on autopilot (yet another cliché) …
Words to lips fall gently as pen to paper emotions fill my heart...still beats a tender touch does not leave me empty the world such a simple place lingering thoughts turn into daydreams while spirits rise watching silently from shadows of a widow's walk soaring high above surrounded in love and translucent light I wander …
Standing on the sidewalk a small man with a cigar leering past a puff of smoke clouds camouflage his true intentions conveyor belt rolls me in to a land of the unknown no cart just a red basket in hand and the lights glare chasing the shadows clarity is a check out counter and the …
Early morning light peers through tiny cracks like a private eye - subtle surveillance Between nightmares and day-dreams there is a harsh sense that shoots across the sky As reality focuses on the blurred vision of weary eyes and the only time line has spanned the universe A love that lives in another sphere…what is …
If I could I would... Sell everything I own Close all my bank accounts Never pay taxes that would fund another war Let my hair grow long and wear it in dread locks Sleep on the beach under a sky filled with stars Spend endless hours walking the shoreline collecting sea glass and shells Once …
The past seeps into some kind of abstract perspective My own different from yours - I am sure My spin, my angle from where I sleep never falls short of illusive Yours, off in the distant fog - sails full wind blows coast to coast, shore to shore drop off You catch sea foam in …
There are few places I can go a few places that don't throw me off track circle back and start again - Waking up to a new day surviving another day a fresh start - Short term memory lapse starting all over again all over again Rat in a golden cage spinning spokes jagged edges …
Trilby Yates 