now and then

[creativesoul]

every once in a while i am touched with the gifts of the present and listen carefully to the winds - the glass is fogged up with this mornings mositure and the farm cats and the mule are so filled with a comfort that cannot be trashed..... the news of a war guy sending obsessive e-mails to his mistress- those things which chase that man in the night- need peace- thoughts of being in goodwill and seeing all those wedding dresses in a row .......remind me; ... of a time gone ....... ghosts .....the taste of history= broken treaties and vows- contracts broken- laws re-written...oh kitten....... when a man s word was good, and a woman was loved even when she fell- he helped her up- it seems that now- in the times of aquistion and accumulation that these things were disposable- like stira foam was burned with the poison in the air----not to be forgotten...-into the faces of the docile and lost- anarchy riens, the wild horses of creativity are lost in the hands of those that have settled for less, because it just became to difficult to stand up for what was more real to the few that had better than that.
the songs were still on her lips when the suns rays had broken the skyline, and the tragic sense of fear was on people s faces-........... a crier for the people stood on the balcony waiting for that which would change the perspective of the masses- storms came and went and took out populations, and all anyone could muster was a donation in a can-the deafening quiet stole the times when the joys of a dream were what motivated the heart................ firing ranges were used in some practice of self defense=..................................... no one wanted to admit that they had no energy to do the things they loved anymore- that sleep and sugared bacon had more appeal than the actual feeling of exploration and adventurous risks-that love has become a matter of comfort and an agreement ' you do this and i do that'
anything that looked like change or challenge was a threat to the system that imposed a sense of security. belief in what they thought helped to justify that emotional body that just kept coming up- like weeds on the lawns- always being mowed and - nothing could stop the weeds-
church bells rang and the people wore their sunday best in an effort to cultivate a faith that had become more of an obligation and social standing than an actual experience. then they went home after a doughnut and a cup of coffee and took off the clothes........... watched cable.... dvd s .......anything to escape the free thinking time when tossing this system was an excellant idea--- the media seemed to dictate what was important- those images dancing in front of the eyelids that held no dreams- emptied and closing because tommorow work was on the table- the altar on which surrvival had been placed- she gained weight- and prepared his lunches and did not complain.
every now and then those moments held sort of a norman rockwell charm- but for the most part- here on the farm- where growing things like vegetables and flowers hold all the charm-

[dadio]

Powerful prose here. The voice selective. The words woven as if each word cost a bit of pain each time. You have a style I like: tight and unsentimental. Write on.