My heart is so broken
I'm so totally worthless
So my heart is for sale
Half-price only

I think it still works
I know the pain
And fear section does

The bit for joy
Is long out of use

And the piece for love
Is quite broken

But it mostly still works
So,
I've got half-price heart for sale

it's a number.
it's a date.
it's a girl.

enchanting.
wonderfully made,
exquisite.

salmon and sushi,
root beer floats,
touched by an angel.

it's 2 in the morning.
phone calls with
laughter.

it's eyes that follow.
lips that caress.
tears that
stream.

maybe love.
we're lucky,
aren't we?

something says
goodbye.
it isn't
me.

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood--
A lord of nature weeping to a tree,
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.

What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,
That place among the rocks--is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.

A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is--
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.

Dark,dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.

I didn't know him well.
I was only just twenty.
He was the first Indian
I had ever met though
he called himself a Skin.
Came from northern Nebraska.
He was tall, strong, quiet
and soft spoken
with a strange authority.
Somehow, he could sense fear.
At the end of the first day
over An Loc I was
well beyond fear, beyond
terrified, barely functional.
While we refueled
he came over and told me
not to worry. Every day,
he said, was a good day to die.
First time I ever heard
Crazy Horse's famous phrase.
In the morning, his waddling,
overloaded chopper took
a SAM missile up the ***
and totally disintegrated:
no wreckage, no bodies,
no anything left at all.
There's nothing
really left to say
except I hope that for him
it was a very good day.

  ~mce

Welcome to the South,
where we teach
Christ's compassion,
rather than put it into action.
Where we honor the
Red, White, and Blue,
but only want to share it with a few.

Welcome to the South,
Where our values are just as backwards as our deep fried diet,
and our minds are
just as closed as our hearts.

So pull up a chair,
or a double-wide,
Grab a peach
or a pecan pie,
'cause ain't nothin'
gonna change,
till DixieLand dies.