figmentation

- poetry on my mind -
(with no revisions)

Good people are difficult to encounter at times.
Those who make you smile,
who make you feel,
cry,
burn with lust,
run with fear.
Those who embody ideals and ideas
with whom you are free...
Those who challenge you.
those who you can cry out to for a hand
(and they're downstairs in a moment to help with the momentary pandamoium with bandaids or a shot to fix the problem)
There are those Good people in the world, who make it all worth it.

There are people who will warm your feet on a cold day,
whose farts you dont mind the stink of...
People with whom you'd share your soul knowing that they'd never intentionally hurt it.

Those are the ones you love, and care about,
those are the ones worth saving the world for, to do small things to make their life better...
Those are the ones you can fall in love with and love enough to let go because their place is not with you.
Good people are hard to find in this world... but they make it all worth it.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
I miss the days when kilobytes of information cost so much that you were encouraged to be as concise as possible. (Not that I am really old enough to remember those days, mind you.)
I also miss the days when you could run over to your friend's house across the street and sit in their rooms and play for hours... dolls or trains or castle or house or barbies or fort or whatever... it didn't matter... I remember that we would play and play and play until our mothers called and we went home, secure in knowing that we'd see eachother tommorow.
Life was simple. There weren't the games of the 'adult' world.
Beauty existed in the plants, in the trees, in the ants on the ground.
I saw a blue ant (?) on my way home from school yesterday. Walking along, it was on the path, the same path that I was... it's wings were attempting to work. It would hop and flutter and go an inch or two... as I watched it walked and hopped and fluttered more and more inches and then it would get tired and walk again. I last saw him (her?), she was flopping itself through the dried leaves on the side of the path.
How amazing to see a *blue* insect to begin with - and then watch it attempt to learn to fly.
Beauty.


I've noticed that it's difficult to listen. It's difficult for us to listen to eachother, to the world, to the wind.
to the beirds which sing outside our windows and compete with the noise within our houses, streaming out of our boomboxes and our mouths, our minds. The quietness within which listening requires is important. The rememberance of the good of what we hear is also important.

People join sites like this for more reasons that one can count. Mine is just to have presence. Nothing has to come of it, except the effort of your finding this page and reading it... and if you've made it this far, maybe you've heard what I've been trying to say. Maybe you've found a smile or a phrase which resonates with you. Maybe you've simply lived another few moments of your life.

I hope you enjoy...