Memories:
Memories, 25 Gigabytes
10 years of life compressed to one file
Pain as old faces smile from frozen pasts
Gone through like landmines as I scroll
Memories, 25 Gigabytes
Cleaned out and organized
Old faces smiling as they’re sent to the trash
Gone forever, like they never were there
Memories, 25 Gigabytes
Life is messy and sometimes it hurts
but these photos are clean and organized
Those which cause pain no longer exist
Memories, 25 Gigabytes
Old Books, Well Loved:
Old Books, well loved.
Flow in in boxes
some new, never opened
bought and forgotten collecting dust.
Others worn, read repeatedly
with broken spines and torn pages
Old Books, well loved.
Fixed up and cleaned.
Torn pages taped together,
old covers dusted off,
marked with prices and set on shelves,
waiting to be seen.
Old Books, well loved.
Pulled off shelves and filling bags.
Sold to new eyes, new stories never read.
New hands turn old pages,
new life fills old covers,
Old Books, loved once more.
American:
Am I proud to be an American?
There is so much to discuss.
So many pitfalls and minefeilds in that word alone.
American.
It sparks so many ideas,
so many negative.
A word that taints so much of what I love
American.
Rome didn’t fall in a day
it slowly unraveled as it collapsed under it’s own weight.
I wonder if a man back then watched his country and asked “Am I proud?”
American.
So many questions, so little time.
Will we pull through, get in gear and face our problems?
Or will we lag behind, becoming ruins?
American.
The leader of the free world, enslaved to the dollar.
Enslaved to the people in power, none the “right choice.”
enslaved to their own ideas of what that word means
American.
Am I proud to be an American?
I don’t think I can answer.
Maybe next year.
Will Fall Writings 