7 May 1995
go find yourself.
Look in the flower bed
in the discarded porridge of yestermorn,
Look in the sunset
or run around the world to make it a sun rise;
i mean it's gotta be some where... or is it how?
or even if not then ya can fake it,
make it up,
hide and tell the world that it's all okay somehow.
it's like she might really care ore something,
like maybe she's just watchin from behind
an sayin that alls well,
but all the same shes holdin up a cracked mirror
so that when ya turn around
you'll see for once and be surprised a little;
could be that that's why there's a crack in it:
cause it's so old, an hey -- it's reality.
Copyright © 1995 Charles Fry
Here's one for ya. go find yourself. late again skys passing wave raining clouds and offer healing sun où es-tu dim Mornings in the underground memories squirming on the bath room ceiling open the faces on the side walk pass me by life and living Song of Peace from Time the Mountain My Father so i painted a red cross on my chest my living eulogy my plastic house alone again frustrating the Song of my heart as it grows and changes In Dark Brick Dungeons clanteba mortillia Lonely is my call to this Omnipotent generation: friend (and, by now, even brother) my PCC Our Garden Cognoscente The Home careFree the Children full moon if I were a Painter For You Caterpillar March Prison As I Went Walking Norwegian Cockatrice Lampposts Departure or The Falling Apple Peace