Open the clasped and ancient doors!
There are mountains of footage
to peruse.
Thousands of long years to sift through.
Who did what or who did nothing
are of great import - apparently.
Who was that fellow
and why did we follow?
That despot killer
where was his karma?
We must seek clues in the dust of ages.
Pages must be read and scrutinized.
Order and reason sought
for we are nothing
without a history that teaches us.
Yet, here there are just trackless words,
statements, records,
testament's from blind witnesses
and towers of hearsay.
How to proceed?
Should we file away the sane
and burn the insane
or will the sane in the end
drive us into insanity?
Somewhere at the very bottom
of a mute pile
wise men have been muffled
have dried-up under layers of faded ink.
Dig on must we?
Or should we close those rotted doors
and walk away on new bought shoes
recording only our steps
leaving no signs on unmapped paths?
On William Shakespeare's special day
I would this much like to pray
That future generations find a way
To fill a part of their school days
Midst the wonder of his plays
You'll not understand every word he wrote - OK
But a precious line or two make sure to file away
~ To revisit down the road, on a rainy day
music blaring through the radio
dancing in the passenger seat
a smile plastered on my face
my lips singing with the words on the radio
most likely way off key
just a feeling everything is right
driving by the moon light
got a rhythm in my body
flooding through my vains
dancing to the beat of my heart
thats beating along with the radio
Country song after country song
providing the perfect sound track
to our moon light car ride
me and you together
it couldn't feel more right
makes me just want to stop the car
and dance together under the starlit moon light
pull you in tight and just pause this moment in time
the perfect moment a perfect memory
to file away in the back of my mind
just another memories of us.
windows, all of them see
through the eyes of the believer
pin a task for the machine
and ask why?
curtain draped sorrows
of dreaded tomorrows
finding a thought or two
gears running tickers ticking
like our time is so precious
enough to write down
and file away into yesterdays realm
if tomorrow never comes
what happens to yesterdays thoughts
floating in an ocean of blended hues
rich men can't buy the bag of dreams
that it would hold but the window can see
One page at a time
Written in my mind
What I would call...
...My Diary Of A Dream
It's funny probing
Poking around the mind
Trying with difficulty
To recall the details
Each day I file away
Another page of memories
The details...a bit sketchy
And grow more so with time
My Diary Of A Dream
Written with invisible ink
Easy to erase
Easy to forget...
© 2011 Kevin Stock
I hear whispers that sing past my ears...
Telling me that my walls are made of fears...
A breeze flows through my clouded mind...
Little secrets and hidden words that I find...
Some come down on paper, others I file away...
Take them out in time for a better way....
My insides pray for peace and salvation...
For more days of love and consideration....
Take a breath of air from a cool summer night...
Hold it in till the butterfly's run out of sight...
And sit and remember all that's good in this life...
I have learned the lesson
that you so cruely taught
I've given up all hope of winning
this fight that can't be fought
I'm going to gather my thoughts
and then close my mind
block out love and beauty..
won't see them...I'll be blind
Then I'll close all my books
pack away all my pens
file away these silly dreams
for they've all come to an end!
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