angry ghosts will not have me
or scare me away from you my friend.
It's true we spent the last few years
watching someone dear
fall in slow motion
off a cliff
Not down
away

a fear barely spoken
crushing

but no buts

I will always hold you
close to hart

you are family my friend

I hope you find great love
and the words to make it work

I forgive you all the hurt
I know your hart was true
And i lay my self low for hurting you



Words of my fathers

I often look at this old book on my table.
The pictures bring back old memories and poems come alive.
If only I always saw the wisdom they contain that it might show me how to avoid the lessons taught by pain, but verse is perverse, leaving experience often the key to understanding.

Sometimes the words seem simply written for the time. I wonder of some when exactly they were thought; I know he banged many of them on the old typewriter that lived on the kitchen room table. Was this one about my mother, or another? What was that one about?
Life death, joy and purpose are all addressed in one or another of them.

This year I turned 34,
chronologically this is the last step I will take in life
for which there is a direct parallel for in my fathers.

In his book I have found lessons and examples,
laughs and mistakes to try not to repeat.
Again.

I flipped it open tonight to this-

we walk around
talk around
the way we really feel
we hide the words
of doubt and hurt until they make us reel
we will not give their freedom to the ones we love the most
until we’re left alone bereft the prey of angry ghosts

Well. And i've read this before too.
geez.

I picked up the Homesongs CD by Adem after the show, thanks for taking me.