whynotsin

yes. very interesting how the rider keeps giong even after it is abused by those she/he rides for. very noble. Nice

so so ute just like the writer...lol

What is a man? Here we examine, Breakdown. Analyze. Dissect. Their various parts. The instruments. That. Motivate, Control Maneuver And over wise drive. The often slow, Never quick All together dim Man. He seeks, To explain, What he is Why he is here Never looking in the open, For an un-obscured answer. What pulls and attracts, Takes him apart, Is the unknown country. The far away place, The creatures that lurk in the dark. The interest that take them to new extremes, The women they court The honor they seek But mostly lust, The vision of a woman, In his bed, Much like a trophy won in war. He thinks He acts, On impulse And with haste. But that is his way. Can he truly know? The worthlessness of his life, Does he know? The futility of, Breathing. His sun rises, Sets. He lives for but a brief day. Wasting it away. Staring away into space. Dreaming of forgotten ways. Imaging better days. But why? For man has forgotten the reason The way. The once true and innocent path. When everyone was… Happy and strong, Content with their hour long lives. Man is, A beast, An animal Breathing and eating. Mating and reproducing, At an alarming rate. He is a plague a virus. That will kill itself. The why of his ways will never be completely answered? And the way to the why is covered in debris, An impossible journey, So we, End.

The path is drawn, upona map, with points leading east, and some leading west. but the years have been long, and men no longer go, through forests, and meadows. Father please show us the way

Have you ever fellen in love,and then found out your wrong? Kissing the sky roasting the post. kissing the fools, hmm tasty . tomatoes, with some potatos. over all sad and revealing poetry, with poerful structer and pacing.

Im am glad to see that the Pen still has great writers posting. Not that there wouldnt be any left.......um better shut up now...lol great job. Scrathes back of head and walks away.

It's a situation that happens to all at least once. The poem was very beautiful .

It is very nice, fitting togther liike a puzzele.

The forms are far spreading, Dear father, Tell me the way, I have lost it. Can you see the depth of my soul My ghost to which I can never escape. The err of my ways. Show me the way, I have lost it. The path before me, Which I so clearly saw, Is now washed away and overgrown The smooth easy road, Over traveled and little repaired, Now sits in disarray. The weeds, The trees, The fire bush and the thistle tree, Growing and consuming, The once easy way. Father please guide me, My eyes are gone, My sorrow deeper then the ocean My mind higher then the stars. Sow the way the path, I want to return home.

When I wrote it I was thinking about a man playing a base or cello. if that helps.

O, o dear my friend is leaving as I am coming. O, O dear, in my long absence I have failed to realize that people may go. No apologizes needed. I am at a loss for real words. The prophesy was true, One coming. One going, damn that old crone damn her………

Thank you for the words. This is one of two new post I have put up. The only two I have put up in like two months. And I feel a bit rusty. lol.

Drops, They splash onto the moist soil, Quiet echoes in forgotten halls, In the darkness a boy weeps His bow slowly crosses the bridge, Deep growls of pain and emotion echo in this quietness, He plays to forget. His pain, His grief, Creating beautiful melodies. In the darkness he can be free, His bow flying faster, His heart pounding, Jumping and pulsating He plays to forget, But he can’t The scorn of a lover, The rejection of a mother, The failure as a father, He plays his fingers bleeding But he plays, His music shaking the entirety of his soul. Nothing to loses His madness consuming, Through out the abode All can hear the pain, Of a forgotten son. Men weep, as the tune spills out into the streets, Women collapse, He slows as his sadness increases, He can’t forget, He never will, So he plays.

Nu Everything is falling, Falling into pieces, None left to hold me up Just the sinking feeling of loss. Away I go into mist, Taken apart By un-pure things.

Great job, I’ve been writing and re-rewriting a poem about just the same thing I can never find a collection of letters to satisfy me. This poem expresses what I could not, Thanks Vincent

that is sublime man

I miss you to Brother Simmers

PT 3 On the ride home Emily stared out the window at nothing in particular. Next to her the tins where singing a song from some kid show. It started to rain as they drove back to the city where their home was, the rain streamed in streaks across the window as she looked at the world just beyond her touch. Emily tried to imagine a world stripped of its social structures where the only true objective is joy and nothing else. It was Saturday and the next day she knew that her mother would drag her to church. She had always felt at odds with the place like she didn’t belong. Her grandparents made more sense then what she was feed there. Emily was growing up, she already had a fully matured body that the boys at her school stared at making her feel uncomfortable. She pulls back a little further from the window and se sees her reflection. Her hair has strands of slivery whit/gray color making it look like she put in highlights. Her long and slightly round faces made people think of an elf. Her body looked as if she had had a sun tan all over even though she rarely left her home, and when she did she would go into the woods outside the city. The car slowed down as it wove it’s way thru the streets near the house. The house they lived in was a small mansion that sat on a hill behind a gated wall. Her father had made his money as a lawyer fighting big profile cases. Her mother was a college professor at the city college where she taught religions of the world. When the car finally pulled into the driveway she rushed out and went into the house. Emily went up to her room and went into the shower. As she slipped out of her cloths and climbed into the shower she thought about how she never fit in with her family with any one. The water felt good on her skin as it steamed down her body, she didn’t realize the powerful spells she was forming as she hummed songs in the shower. Obviously the will of the gods had not faded away. As Emily walked out of her bathroom drying her hair she looked to her bed and screamed. She had seen an Elvin child sitting on her bed or at least she thought she saw one. Her song had called out to one of the oldest beings in the universe Whynasin. Her father came rushing into the room after he heard her scream. He walked up to Emily and held her close rocking her back and forth; she was shivering from her wet towel. Her father pulled back from her and looked at her. “ What’s wrong Emily? What happened? Ate you ok?’ His gray eyes flickered and he looked towards the bed where Whynasin had been. “ Don’t tell your mother what you saw, Emily he was real don’t worry. I have to call your grandparents, put some cloths on and come down to the den.” When Emily came into the den she saw her father hanging up the phone. His face for a minute seemed glow with a strange joy. Emily’s father turned to face her and said “ Get your stuff we’re leaving.”

repeated post taken out

wind or water? The cold air comes up to me Beckoning me to follow Pulling and pushing Consuming me and enveloping me Taking me with it to places unseen I follow blind and a fool To where I go, I never am to know What it is that I follow, Never have I seen. Only the circling leaves give hint of form. Like the banks and the glass that define shape As a cloud floating across the sky Being driven and taken Not leading but merely existing Another face to be seen another voice to ignore Minds intertwine together forming what we call society Clashing thoughts Disruptive love All playing an integral part In darkness we stand looking for the light, Not knowing our eyes are closed Not feeling the wind the air, With it’s cold icy guiding touch.

-My mind floats from place to place, Carla. I can no longer focus on just one plane. My mind fazes from time to time. I have become smoke on a windy day. Germaine rambled on about his state of being. What should I do about this? - You should not do anything Germaine, Just simply be happy with being. -I tire of this. I do not want to float forever, I wish to flow like the water through a determined course. Not drift dispersing and stretching with every gust. -We are all like the smoke, only that some of us hang lower, closer to the Earth. -I wish to find love Carla, with you. You have rejected me however and so I am further dispersed by the wind. -You know and I know we could never be. It is an unthinkable thing. My life is not one for love. We must remain as we are. -The pain of this state is unbearable. The sight of you is like needles piercing my heart. -There is no is no reason for this. You and I we have nothing to offer each other. -But we do. We can offer each other the forces necessary to turn us to solid state. The dialogue between the two continued. Germaine’s mind adrift and Carla close to the ground. Germaine looks into Carla’s soul and finds it empty, empty of any love for him.

I have been reading eastern philosophy text a lot lately and I wrote this under such influence. I wanted to illustrate the pureness of existing with out anything and thus becoming everything. I think that to me I try to achieve this. There are many questions I ask my self about this work. If you have any more questions feel free to email me or IM. I welcome all comment from the Pen. Whynotsin@aol.com AIM:Whynotsin

Good job agent N, Very good post.

“Mind” Life and death he can look at them both, The true heart holds not on to life, Nor fears the approach of death To feel is to loose To see is to be but blind All weakness arises from strength All love from hate, All hate from love. All pain from pleasure. The quiet man is the happy one His lack of words speaks louder then a thousand His stillness quicker then the wind. Like the water he bends. Like water he destroys or creates. He is selfless and there for fulfilled. From time to time He looks out at the wind And feels himself become it Become the unfelt force of time, The overpowering yet invisible concept of space. One with himself he flows with the currents of life Like an old sea captain Understanding and manipulating the underlying forms of water and wind. As the night falls he understands and fears not the darkness as others do As his breath grows narrow he accepts and starts to fade Regret nor fear enter his mind Pain nor pleasure find place He is apart from the concepts of man He is beyond them and thus complete. Germaine Andino-Rexach

here we go my first real post in forever ____-----_____------_____-------______------____---____---__ Leaves fall through the haze Into subtle puddles Muddled and gray. Into the eternity The ether And time, A place of a one-time rime Where lost children Watched for home Like falling angles leaves crash Splashing softly inside of the past Falling away becoming mud.