Consciousness
Here in this coffin I wrest and write with ideas that may never take flight. I have no paper nor a pen, just thinking without end. My want to move slowly fades but my fear quickly escalades. Here I lay motionless hating eternal silentness. I fear I’m living eternal rest. Tell me know do you fear death?
To have great poets there must be great audiences too.
Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| The Fallens Fall | 2 | 04/25/2011 |
| You get what you paid for | 1 | 03/17/2011 |
| Blinded by sight | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
| My Orchestra | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
| Paths | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
| Russian roulette | 1 | 03/17/2011 |
| The First and Only Leap | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
| One path | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
| The Arena | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
| Consciousness | 0 | 03/17/2011 |
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