I am eyes and I am ears.

I’m all eyes and ears today,

And nature hasn’t flooded,

Any debris away.

Birds are ducking and,

Diving as they do,

Branches, fast on the,

Muddy ground like glue.

A green and shredded carpet floor,

Littered with mess,

From the tremendous night before.

And I’m all eyes and ears.

We, things of the world,

Hide away in our homes.

As the sticks,

Which finger at the skies,

Die.

And broken in the mud,

In the glue,

In the morning dew,

They rot,

And the world is made anew.

Autumn is upon us,

And soon winter will grab icily,

At our souls.

And take hold,

All bitter and dark.

I’m all eyes and ears,

Winter holds no fears.

Because, as rain follows black cloud,

Spring will be creeping through my mind.

This is the way of things.

Spring follows winter,

Then summer,

Autumn,

And winter again.

Time, regardless of us,

Slips away,

And each day,

The world is made anew.

And I am eyes and ears.

Conscious/Subconscious vs. Interpretation

I bought...

...a new sketchbook in a wonderful art supply shop near the Photographers Gallery. Ok sure, the only reason it was ‘wonderful’ was because it had discount sketchbooks, but you know, I don’t think that is a bad reason. Is it shallow? I know not. Either way, I have done some sketchy things in it. I'm not too sure about the type of paper in it, very grainy. See here:

Poems, impossible heartless poems.

You know how you used to be good at something, (or at least, you thought you were good at something) and then you try and attempt that thing again, and you realize you are good no more (or perhaps you never were), and you wonder what has (or hasn’t) happened that has changed (or enlightened) you and turned this thing into a monster (or not). I have that.

Poems, impossible heartless poems.