remnants Death of a Rose the bone ash is being created, borne on the scattered seedlings in stillness, a freedom felt, a voice to guide the strays, certainty coveted, shambling mounds of unearthly delight, the exquisite smell of glass emptied, building a corral after the refreshments have ended. 040912 ... danmoyer                             Knowledge is a means by which humans gain dominance over each other.  Unfortunately, once you boast of your knowledge, people around you have it, so then you have to go get more.                                             Generally speaking, dominance is still the main (next to the basic survival instincts) theme in existence, quite possibly has been since the dawn of time.                                                                                                                           Where ever you are, my desire lies in wanting to be on the opposite side of the spectrum, to challenge both of us.                                                                                                                                                           Pondering existence without function will simply lead us back to ourselves, as art, science, and religion, are all the pursuit of the same thing.  They just don’t get along very well.                                                                                                                                                                                                    Destruction is the only means of existence, save when we are creating, save when we are at peace with our surroundings.                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Violence solves the problems that we don’t really fix in the end.  Otherwise it just makes money                                                                                                                     Do you ever find yourself laughing at a joke that isn’t funny?                                                                                                                            I don’t.                                                                                                  050111 ... dafremen Remnants R. Dafremen (for Public Worx) "Last cup of coffee," he says "Here's a toast to being in debt and growing old." Outside the sound of traffic rising softly Marks the time of the folks in line waiting to be bought and sold He lifts his weary head to watch her sleeping one more time kisses her soft and turns to go Opening her eyes she says "I love you baby come home soon." He says "I love you too" then grabs his coat Steps into the cold Then he hits the road The phone is ringing in the kitchen She lets it go, and hopes they'll go away Probably someone trying to sell her something Or perhaps the ghost of those she owes but can't afford to pay Persistence pays and so they keep on calling She gives in picks it up and takes the bait A voice says "Hey you so glad you're home how are you?" She says "Hey sis it's been rough but I'll be ok." Still she's so afraid. Between the silence the quiet madness of our ways These scattered pieces Are sometimes all that keeps us sane These are the remnants that remain The tattered remnants that remain Wiping his eyes he holds her hand and whispers "Mom I love you so much, how are you gettin' on?" Through the tubes stuck in her face she weakly smiles and tries to hide The fact that she knows her time here isn't long She'd seen his face in a photograph when he was younger Smiling eyes that always carried her along But now the tears come as he cried fell bittersweet upon her arm 'til she thought "Lord...won't you take me home?" And then she was gone. Such tender moments Stand out among these empty days These scattered pieces That come and go and keep us sane These are the remnants that remain The tattered remnants that remain Out in the darkness Stumbling blindly through the pain These scattered pieces These points of light along the way They're sometimes all that keeps us sane These tattered remnants that remain These tattered remnants that remain They're sometimes all that keep us sane These tattered remnants that remain These are the remnants that remain 100216 what's it to you? who go blather from