Another From The Early 90's

Strange paces I've strode

In these morning hours of night

Deserted city streets I've roamed

Seen many a shadowy sight

Yet I've felt the wind fly solo

And heard the pigeons silent

Gazed upon lost souls on sidewalks

And watched the cabs grow violent

Here in the darkness

While walking alone

An unseen power keeps stride with me

Makes the path I take my own

__________________________________

*** notice the repeat use of "hours". The journal I found this in was such a young man's notebook (he chuckles to himself with fond recollections)

This, to me anyway, is a perfect example of why one should JUST FUCKIN WRITE IT

Who cares if it's not a masterpiece. The second stanza is isn't bad and I never would have written it if I had spent any time worrying whether or not a finished work was gonna be any good. Put it down on paper and have fun listening to the sound of the pen scratching on the paper.

INK MOTHERFUCKER! It's all about ink.

Also, you know this is an older piece because it's been a long time since cabs (taxis)

drove "violent".

These days, unfortunately, they, and seemingly everyone else, drive like a bunch of blind pussies forever looking for an address.