creative writing

Where do you want to be?

I had an after thought about this piece, a clarification if you will… Sometimes a place is physical, and sometimes metaphysical! Just sayin’. Sometimes there are places you want to go, and places that you want to be… Maybe you’ve been there before, and maybe it didn’t work out…. Or

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A one way door

There’s a park across the street from me called Judge Park, I sometimes pass through when going for a walk. One day just after the Victoria Day weekend, while trying to clear my head of too too many negative thoughts, I grabbed my camera and went for a walk, this

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Chapters

The books are on the shelf, endless Chapters… of confusion. And pages…  pages of words… Broken promises, Shattered… cast aside. The writing, is on the floor, a happy ending, torn from a book. Too many photographs, and all I can see is the imperfection, in their perfection. I can no longer

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Hangin’ (a distraction)

the Universe plays an infinite loop of thoughts, memories, flashbacks, dejavu, and double whammies… the track marks on my arm are in my head, an infliction of my own addiction, freedom in chains, and the number is 7! If only this addiction came with a high we could fly away….

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freedom, released

what’s worse than losing your mind, is finding it again… in a future that is your past! a simple turn of the key, gave me permission to allow myself to be free a much needed transition! © 2011 Julian words and inspiration… thanks to Mike and Ryan… Tania… Freya… Kate…

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broken…

broken, yes. yes, it’s broken. (Yes) see the pieces, and how they fit together? but can it ever… be the same again? (No) do you want it… to be the same again? (No) it’s only broken glass… from the darkened window, that kept me from seeing you, and you, from

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Friends

What are friends for? They’ll stand behind you Whatever you do, And cheer you on When the race is on! What are friends for? They’ll take you out, And listen to you pout So as to ease the pain When she leaves you again! What are friends for? To pour

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All is Well

Death is nothing at all, I have only slipped away into the next room, I am I, and you are you, Whatever we were to each other, that we are still, Call me by my old familiar name, Speak to me in the same easy way which you always did,

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Stratford

It’s not about where you are, but who you are with! I, but for you, would find a spot such as this divine. For me, this scene save you, could never really be mine. Oh, when you were here, and on this stage stood near. True, a scene thus played

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