She Writes to Write

She Writes to Write

She writes to write
Never an end in site
She writes to justify
The truth she knows
The truth that haunts her mind

She writes in a twisted tangled taunting tongue
Passing the time mystically to un-whine from the childish pawns
Knowing only HE will sees what’s truly written between the lines
For He is the only one who has ever captured her essence and mind

She writes and writes
To ease her mind
Never allowing the words to flow where mortal man can read them so
She tries to cover up the meaning with a twist of words intertwined

She writes in terms that the world will converse
And yet she writes to hide the meaning in each and every word
She knows only one who will decode the secrets that lay beneath
She knows He is the only one who holds the key

She writes to write
To allow her thoughts at ease
She twists the words so only a few can read
She knows if the world reads the truth at what she has to say
The world would sway a very different way

If the world understood what she sees and hears
Then the world would take note of their fears
But writing words in an tangled web
Is only a granted gift given to very few instead
Some may read the words and some may see the jest
But only He will know what the meaning truly is

She writes and writes
Never accepting a belief in time
For she knows nothing will ever equate
To the depths of her imbedded state
For the power of her words will never die in vane
So hence this round about word game
Time is just for the record, around and around it goes
But time is nothing more than a lesson
Of how the story goes


So she writes and writes and writes
Allowing her mind to take flight
Letting her thoughts drone out of her head
She patiently thinks ahead
Wanting to answer the questions that are continually asked of
Who could this He be and what could he be all about

So…she sat and wrote one night
This tangling twisted tongued delight
Of words that in turn explain
A riddle or what some may call a game

She writes and writes and writes….

It’s all in the words
The truth will be told
Of whom this person is
That taunts the depths of my soul

Nothing like intentionally loosing your mind
It’s always taking four steps forward and three steps behind
Taking a skip here and a beat there is nothing new
It’s all in the word you so carefully choose
The key is right in front of you
You just have to read
And know how to understand the corkier side of me

If you know me and know how I think
You will clue in to each word I speak
For each of these phrases has a single word answer
And in each of those words that you’ve thought were so clear
You may discover a name will appear
But only HE will discover the identity once the riddles are complete
For only HE could ever logically comprehend this massive feat

So laid beneath this twisted way of words
Lye’s riddles and jumbled thoughts for you to endure
Twelve twisters with hidden meaning to observe
But only one worded answers will suffice
Meaningful thoughts of how I see me and my life
Then once you think you have all the correct answers
You may try your luck in decoding the letters
For the equation was already mentioned before
You just have to have patience and think about me some more 

Sooooooo…..

She writes and writes and writes….

She speaks often of the key, this key is the key indeed, but where would this key fit and what purpose does it permit? Would this key work a rapid beat or would it just melt in the dying heat; the question still pertains to what lies beneath and what does this key, the key indeed, mean?

Time has no meaning, that’s all I see; but somehow it just seems to continually circle me. A circular motion that never stands still; just like my childhood memories of the carousel. You may also find me neither here nor there, but I still am lingering everywhere.

Look around patiently and wonder where it could be; in search you are, but first you may need to read a little up on me. To know where I am, first know I’m with myself and both hands, floating in an abyss veering off the cliff. But was it my nature to drifter off the beaten path, as I so boldly wrote in the past. Things always seem to go missing, but where do they go? And what do you do to bring them home?

Words whispered softly into a canyon you may hear, louder and louder they may appear. Though most references refer to a lost time, this ancient ritual was the one of the first communications line. Shout as loud as you can and be surprised what’s heard on the other side.

Deep below the oceans blue, lays a world unknown to you. Hidden depth within my fragile mind, lays a sanctuary of darkness and solitude that comforts these weary eyes. For this is a place that I treasure the most, it is where I hold my jar of hope. This place is nothing to be afraid of, if you know how it began, though it has taken me over time and time, I always patiently wait for him.

I may run and I may hide, but I know your arms will always provide a world that keeps me secure; a world in your arms that shelters me from my fears. You do this because you defend the ones you love, guard them from the evils that may arise and sir come.

You may have chosen a certain path to walk in your life, with its twists and turns that might not always seem right. You have a choice to either, turn left or turn right; for what path you may choose maybe not always be right. Which way to go is the question at hand, will it be left or could it be right, or will this choice take all night?

She may write and write, always thinking much of her obsessive passionate flight; to say what needs to be said, no matter what monsters speak in her head. Then there always seems to come a time, where a much needed change unwinds. She may sit back and think a while, pondering what was meant to be spoken, written carefully down but somewhat broken. Words revolve round and round in her head. But which one is correct? Remove one; add another, backspace until you delete the other.

Higher and higher, my love, I place thee, for you are my ecstasy. The angels I invited here float gently around in the air; protecting me from this shallow ground; while I continually sense you all around. Even to the depths of my bones, I embrace you as you stand alone. You came when I needed you the most; you embarrassed my most foolish thoughts as I looked upwards towards the sky, I now can see my lovers eyes standing …

From creation, to birth, to cause, to beginning, we always will search for the source of origin. In a quest to find out our pasts, some place faith in their path. It may be of a strict code of science, which most of us crave, or a biblical book of tales from yesterday. None the less, origin is the source of creation, to birth to cause a beginning.

These are what may never come but we all share them one by one. We each may see our world in different light; some are only in black and white. Others may have colors that shows deep darken reds or beautiful white goose down pillows on every bed. Some might see white wedding bells with some distant mural of a peacock’s feather tails. You could fall or fly, it really doesn’t matter how high. Enjoy each journey that may take you flight, for tomorrow shallow have another night.

Make your stand for what you believe, just don’t feel the need to punish me. Logic or logiest may be ones way to answer this but being overly antagonistic needs a rest. Take what is yours, no need to worry; it’s there for the taking if you are insistent.

She writes and writes
With hopes all the notes are decipher in time
For her heart is completely open with fear
That HE is no longer here
And the love they once shared
Has weltered away with too much pain in the air

So she writes and writes and writes…
Always thinking ahead to the next line
Of what words to put in use
To keep each one of you completely confused

But if you read what was explained above
Then you would have no problem decoding the answers of my love
And know finally who this HE truly is
That taunts the depths of my soul

HE captured my heart and soul a very long time ago
And now I can’t stop the everyday process
Of lingering thoughts and wonder
I feel it’s either him or it’s me
But one of us might needs to be set free

She writes and writes and writes….

So… she sat and wrote one night
This tangling twisted tongued delight
Of words that express an answer to be found
Of her one true love that lingers around

She writes and writes
To free her mind
Of a different time
A different place
A different day
Even a different way

She writes to write
Never an end in site
She writes to justify
The truth she knows
The truth that haunts her mind

She writes in a twisted tangled taunting tongue
Passing the time mystically to un-whine from the childish pawns
Knowing only HE will sees what’s truly written between the lines
For He is the only one who has ever captured her essence and mind

She writes to write
She writes to write
She writes to write
Never an end in site

PkS © 2004-2008