Voices of Yesterday

Yesterday, we were angry.

Yesterday, we cried for a future we couldn’t see.

Yesterday, we were dreaming,

About a golden apple

Sitting in the palm of our hand

Glimmeringly bright

Blindingly so

With patches here and there,

Of the world.

Yesterday, we were thinking of taking a bite.

Yesterday, we were tall with pride.

Yesterday we were smiling,

About the happiness we hold,

That can hardly be contained

By our small hands


Bit by bit…

Yesterday we had a dream so big.

Yesterday we were unafraid of chasing it.

Yesterday we were loving—loved.

But today is another day

To trudge along

Through the daily grind

Thinking about yesterday…

And all the things

We had nearly done

If the world hadn’t conspired

To be forgivably cruel.

Tomorrow, we will do as always.

Tomorrow, we will feel that spark again.

Tomorrow, we will dream once more,

Of the voices of yesterday,

And we will find what we have lost,

In the time that takes us by

Without us knowing

As we see more clearly

And less of the rose

That protected our childhood innocence…

Yesterday gave us today,

Today is just a day,

Tomorrow let us look

Once more

For those voices of yesterday.

We Are Worlds Apart.

We are worlds apart,

Living in a different dream,

Searching for that special other something.


We dance to lyrics unknown to us,

Unafraid of the eyes upon us,

We dance living forever in the moment.


We believe in yesterday,

And look towards the days forward,

With fingers crossed, and hope abound.


We sing to tunes from the star world,

Unafraid of the alien song that comes,

As though we have known it for all our lives.


We hope in silence,

Counting the seconds, wishing on the stars,

Believing like we have never believed before.


We read the words of foreignness,

Embracing in the exoticness,

Reciting poetry that we would not have before.


We know we are,

Somewhere safe in our fears,

Ready to face what comes right after.


We are worlds apart,

Dying with the same belief,

That we have lived as the ones before,

Facing our fears,

Overcoming obstacles,

Until we can say,

We are:

Satisfied, happy and,

Brimming with life.

The Constellations of Tomorrow.

We like to dream of the impossible,

Search for the wilderness that we know exists,

Find our deepest regrets buried at the bottom,

And bury them in a grave of life at its best.

I see the future written in the stars,

In the constellations of tomorrow,

That remain for a lifetime,


Even though,

They are a million light years away,

Changing before our eyes,

Even though we can’t yet see,

The future that it brings.

I look for tomorrow,

In a pool of water,

In the middle of a forest,

I’ve never been before,

Like a princess,

Waiting for a prince,

Making a wish,

For something better

Than what I have.

But there’s something beautiful,

In the present day,

And present life,

Moving forward and looking ahead,

Exchanging promises and vows,

And gifts for the future.

I see the past set in stone,

And ponder on the darkness in my heart.

It sets like mud,

Sludge, thick and inescapable.

It clings to me,


A reminder of what I have done,

And lost.

But the constellations in the sky,

Of Orion,

Of the Pot,

Of the Southern Cross.

They burn brightly,

Shining hotly,

In the midnight white darkness,

Giving us a light,

Accompanying the moon,

And all her glory,

I see my future,

Maybe not brightly,

But the hope is there,

In the Constellations of Tomorrow.

Sun In The Winter.


In the darkness of my mind, consumed by utter grief, there is a winter.  Barren plains of ice and snow, blizzards and endless cold.  I see nothing.  I am nothing.  There’s just numbness in my heart.  A voice calls my name through the winter cold.  It’s a warm light, gently guiding.  I want to live.


The Desert Of My Heart.


The desert is a dusty plain, a sand plain, an ice plain, a dry arid land.  There is no water, there is no shade.  It’s just hot sun, it’s just ice cold.  My fingers are hot, cold, unbearable.  I want to strip, I want to wrap up.  I’m alone in my misery, waiting for relief.


Quote #114

Douglas Adams



From Douglas Adams (The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul)…

“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.”


Is biting our tongues,

Squeezing our eyes shut,

Looking for that sweetness

That should exist, yet has lost

To that bitter, distasteful feeling.