Aw what a waste, this day I feel so poetic, yet I just can't type out all my outlet, I don't know it yet, yet I still might forget it, tomorrow morning when I wake up, when the new day starts, when my old flow departs, all the thoughts I've gathered now, swift and bluntly battered down, it feels like I'm throwing away, verses which I could convey, accords of which to portray, according to timely delay, though, the hour is late, and I feel so, awake.

When the new day starts and the scene comes to play
The sun in the valley that marks this new day
The outlines on the ground of the green palms portrayed
The water fountain sounds much like napalms away

I see the fire burning as the sun rises high
Up over the mountain ridge and into the sky
Soft astounding scenery reaching through my soul
My quota filled the world it builds upon my dawning goals

The pond is still yet a wave of will sweeps over it's bare blue
And I feel so real the worlds great ideal and all of this is true
When motion fails and I just sit and stare at the wide sun rising
Up into the air

I think about the past and the time spent in this chair
So little, so long, ago

Just for today, I'd like to write a poem
Since I don't know when, or where - I will die
Still when I live, I at times forget to
Live and really let lose, and see the sky

Because when troubles, bear down upon me
And when depressions, have fallen on me
Then come the sessions, when I don't see
All of the blessings that rain down by me

I have the choices, to take good care
Of these sessions, that seasons share
If I just let them, let them get near
I won't forget them, or seize to bear

All of these burdens, they are my storm
They are the blankets, that keep me warm
And out of them, my life is born
They let me manage, and let me form

All that is true, to me and you
All what is real, all which I do
And the impression, that I am fine
Is in it's essence, a lie divine

Each design is a part of mind
Each line is but a part of mine
Each verse has it's own a place in time
Each phrase has a potent phase in rhyme

Each sign is an evasive climb
Each crime is a unwinding bind
Each string is an own-minded thing
Each whine of mine, defines divine

Poetry

I see but I don't mind
The whispers reach me - time
Stands still as in confined
To the three stages of life

To live you try not to think
To try you defy common life
What is this world we live in
A constant and underlying strife

To reach the rest, complete the test
Not leave the street, yet be the best
We like to live, we like to stress
We want much more, we need no less

Live by the day, the wisemen say
Live for the future, find your way
And mind the past, remind yourself
That you chose your own, path at last

Oh my my, how much I really read! I read more than I could possibly ever need! All the knowledge I myself contemporarily feed, and sometimes the thoughts grab a hold of me. Drag me within, I react by instinct, I forget about the world around me my surrounding. Other times I cannot think, I cannot into texts sink, and it feels like a barrier is blocking my view, slicing me in two, my thoughts flimmer away as I read scribbles through. I have to repeat, I read slow and incomplete, my thoughts gather my thoughts shatter and I partly fall asleep. It's been like this all week, an array of literature underway, day by day by day, I go up at six each morning, eat breakfast and then I slay. The books that lie in front of me, in this pile and taunt me constantly, in my sleep they devour me in dreams, I'm surrounded by psychoanalysts it seems, but now that I've read through half and it went OK, I can focus on the other half and then the next task, play!

Just as soon as I get all my essays done, write all of my thoughts down, each and every one, and on the final project for this course I have begun. It's not boring, it's fun, but time-consuming in the long run, I shall be resuming my work done without pun as soon as this line sees no sun it needs to be. Sweet, at ease, and be completed, peacefully, back to my books now.