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Bhill Sep 24
When is the time right
Do you look at the future
Do you stare backward

Is it better in the now
You can't change what has happened
You can choose todays pathway
Make today's pathway
A journey that takes you THERE
To the place that fulfills all
The place that gives life meaning
We all need meaning

Brian Hill - 2019 # 240
Where will the road to there take you today?
Erian Sep 12
Fields flood high of corn stalks
As we drove along with the country roads
Leaves splattered pathways in a vibrant tint
Electrifying the crisp air around us
Pumpkins grinned softly
Nesting in beds of acorn heads

Fall couldn't be any better
Than watching out the window
And laying my eyes upon the setting sun
While apple cider and spice linger in the ether
Protected in your sweater
B D Caissie Aug 13
Time and again my words have wings.
Inspired by all the joy you bring.

Time and again you take my hand.
A pathway to your promised land.

Time and again you ease my pain within.
Saving me from the burden of my own sin.

Time and again it seems my soul will roam.
Until it’s your time to take me home.

Bhill Jul 22
The intentions were
To guide you through life's pathway
Where did it lead you

Did it guide you well
The pathway seemed to be bright
You brought love to all

Brian Hill - 2019 # 182
Who is your guide?
Gabby Jan 9
People pave over their path and line them with billboards telling others it’s the only path of life. I’ve stepped off the cold pavement and wondered past the billboards. I have found moss warmed by the sun under my feet and flowers lining either side
Tony Tweedy Mar 21
Have you ever reached a crossroad in your life and with complacency or with fear of what left or right offers or entails, at high speed powered on, only to find it was actually a T junction?
Only then you realise that life has no reverse gear and that some walls are very hard?
Johnny walker Feb 26
I'm Weaving a pathway through my mind I'm
finding a way through
a vast array of memories
stored In
Wonderful times I spent with my sweetheart of
days we won't have again
all gone In what seemed like blink of
So many memories stored In my head not one do I ever regret memorable moment always cherished
for never will they fade In my head they will
Weaving a pathway through my head to where so many
memories do lie and to where they remain In my head
Bryce Feb 13
At the ending of the world
there is a great unraveling
that celestial bow, wound into heartsong
and maestrate the caring music of things--
with these passions of the mind,
God seeking to unravel himself in the ever-fleeing
moment of philosophy, a Persephonic instance
in the archetype of love, psychotic and misnamed,
strait-jacketed in sin and given nothing but sweet
momentary decay

all the powerful souls connect sexually with the cosmos--
payed off, bastardized with a cigarette between their whispered lips
we hold no wealth but the ever-shifting dollar of life.

Fat Jack, fondly Catholic with angel smiles-- holds a rock of God in his hand, rocking softly
in god's busted gut-belly
spread like butter amongst the stars, asking all the same questions of Nirvana--
The last rumble of a skin-tight drumskin wrapped within a screaming symphonic twang of remnant souls--
Walking the notochord of corporeal form
the fantastic drone of rotorcraft, taunting the angelic lads and their brigadier God, singing psalms of limerence
Charlie Parker, musical sadness
Jack-man gladness
Don't forget them in the moment of monastic incantations

High-risen pyramidicals
Euclidian pitter-patter against the gusts and rains
in familiar, repetitive shapes the droplets of ichor
elucidate the frowns of downtown humanity
the locked door at the edge of the room, the air evacuated in fear,
seeking safety in the favorite belfry of an ancient wailing abbey
the dusty oil-towns of century ago
Imbibes the modern-day Maricopa plain
folk digging for dino-rock and black gold, selling dreams to downtrodden lost boys
the mistakes of RV park families

Farmland road
in Louisiana brew
the atmosphere, keeping personal thoughts trapped
a high-pressure zone
the ever-wandering
churning winds of eventual hurricane
the sequence that tickles Fibonacci's fancies and
calls us to dream--
a great Babel of God's consistent scattering heart.

in this great combustible chamber, loud obnoxious gaseous veils
in a low sigh our precipitate souls
smog on the failed shackles of stale blood
dripping this oil on the lips
holding friendly smiles
hiding sickening grins
callous, angry, the honey-chalice sought be not by man or God

Charlie Parker, playing the world's instrumentation
a track to follow
faded as the ancient road roaming
Rome's wet snail trail
blinking and shimmering into existence
a dewlit morning
the conglomerate rock is a cradle for human discomfort
admitted and hidden
to be a better hold than the hands of the earth
in these cornmeal roads,
digging out sugars from her *****
and sipping on the liquor of life in classic fermentation

to hold the road in your hands, the world on your lips
to tell the catacombs of love you would be her hostess,
seeking answers in the bones of ancient souls and refining
in deep sighs,
loving the things we cannot be.
I'll be again the man I used to be always stood my ground no matter came my way
No longer to be walked upon I walk my own path through
make my own destiny no matter what should come my way today tomorrow or whenever I'm Boss
Making one's own destiny through life now single
again my own man
Johnny walker Dec 2018
For I'm now of the lost and the lonely since my wife passed away
I must return to the Pathway through life where  
once walked upon before I met my wife to be Helen that Is the pathway for the lost and
lonely a never-ending path
through a now darkened
World where once the
the sun did
I walked the pathway for the lost and the since my wife passed away
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