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Array
(
[sid] => 112003
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Dark Well
[time] => 2005-12-23 11:36:36
[hometext] => The Dark Well Holds the Story I Must Tell. . .
[bodytext] => Deep in the dark abyss that feeds me the bittersweet taste on my lips, the words I write swirl in a mist down in the dark well. An eternal drought of scorch filled days, along the dirt road is a fiery haze, pulling the bucket up before the rope frays from deep in the dark well. My words of rage repeatedly wither. Reborn from the ashes one after another. Better absorb its meaning quick before the lips of the sun drink up the water of the dark well. . . The dark well of words I will never tell. The dark well of insanity and chaos but also of calmness and serenity. Left all alone with just some chalk and the ground on which I walk, I went on a creative journey inside my mind pouring everything out. Raindrops fell from the heavens that day, the tears of the fallen angels. Never one for a concrete ending, they knew the end would repeatedly become the beginning the beginning of a poem, of a story, of a new creative idea. These things would come from the end. . . the end of old poems, of old stories, and of old ideas. These things would be the beginning. Deep in the dark abyss that feeds me the bittersweet taste on my lips, the words I write swirl in a mist down in the dark well. The beginning is the end and the end is the beginning. All minds creating one never-ending song. The fallen angels will never prove us wrong. Poems, stories, and ideas, from all creatures spawn. Life is a song and our minds create the lyrics. We all are our own critics. Scratching out the things we want to hide. Adding on new lines all the time. On paper I can be who I want to be. . . or expose myself for all the world to see. Some think it’s scary, and once I did too but, my fallen angels guided me through. Deep in the dark abyss that feeds me the words that slip from my lips my life hides in shadows constantly moving away. . . Showing a new part of me everyday. . . This is my story. . . This is my life. . . This is. . . my poetry which spawns from my dark well. ~Kortnie~ [comments] => 2 [counter] => 257 [topic] => 21 [informant] => justme03 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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