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The train has left the station
Oh yes, I got onboard
The route and destination
Both totally unknown
My choice made at a crossroad
We’ll see how smart it was
Head lost to heart the battle
Thus my path’s chosen
The train has left the station
Its course by fate destined
There’s really naught to do now
My part at present done
I do however wonder
No pretense I don’t care
Might I someday lament
Unseen strife and sorrow there
Still better some tomorrow
Some future time not past
Should I pause in fond reflection
Of a trip over too fast
My writing is the place I check my baggage and I rarely redeem a claim ticket. Consequently, the fruits of my labors are usually questions, yearning, rebellion, melancholy. I am looking for some kind of answers. Oh, nothing so deep as the meaning of life or as sweeping as the truth of the illusion.
I live on a smaller scale, worship in a smaller church. A man once told me my church was too small. What was there to say except that perhaps his god was too big. My church is just the right size for me. It was a group therapy session during one of my hospital stays and my attitude did not go over well.
Still, I’m only mildly pollymanic these days, so we’ll end this here and chuck the claim check immediately.
Random girl
With a
Random word
Random thoughts
As they run through
My mind
Random fears
As they chill
My heart
Random lust
As it warms
My loins
Random girl
In a
Random world
Random loves
As they destroy
My life
Random hopes
As they embrace
My spirit
Random ideas
As they save
My soul
Random girl
With a
Random word
In a
Random world
I watch
The blossomings
And the train wrecks
Both
With equal
Fascination
She was just a whack job
Listening to another whack job
Tell her she’s a whack job
And its okay to be a whack job.
So they decided to spend
The rest of their whack job lives
Being whack jobs together.
OR
Miss Demure Restraint 