21 Jun 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Poetry, 0 Comments

Poem 011 Pissed


To carelessly drink from the river of silence, casting life’s opportunities into that sea
I stand naked here with no defense, guilty

So easily I disappoint all that surround me, casting my memories into that abyss
In one single heartbeat an unrecognized beauty, pissed

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25 Jun 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Poetry, 0 Comments

Poem 012 The wind blows where it will


The wind blows where it will, you hear the sound of it but you do not know where it comes from, or where it’s going. If one blind man leads another, don’t they both fall into the ditch?”

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25 Jun 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Poetry, 0 Comments

Poem 013 In the beginning


In the beginning, there was the light, all bright, until we turned away to see, until we came to be, one with the shadow
We came to see the show, to see what we could find and watched the shadows dance, on the walls inside our mind.
Captivated by its rhythm, I followed like a child, chasing each and every shadow, with passion almost wild.

(more…)

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28 Jun 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Poetry, 0 Comments

Poem 014 To walk in hand


To walk in hand, a virgin heart
to the break of day
me the wind
as lovers
by her bedside play

Before the night, had faded soon
to the fields she’ll run
she the wind
as flowers
before the morning sun

She’ll carry in hand, bundled in truth
flowers for your bed
lay them down
to pillow
dreams of dreams, she lead

To walk in hand, a virgin heart
to the break of day
we the wind
as lovers
by our bedside play

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28 Jun 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Poetry, 0 Comments

Poem 015 Voices of Norway


Voices of Norway, sing, sing aloud, along with me, along with me
these hills, they wait to answer, their echo’s always heard, enchanting me, their melody, a song sung sweet as birds
Sing, sing aloud, along with me, along with me, enchanting me, their melody, a song, so seldom heard

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    Usually behind a cup of coffee waiting for the world around me to wake up I entered today’s thoughts about yesterday’s activities into my travel journal. I’m not a writer, so I’ll apologize in advance if I jump around or seem confused. These are just the thoughts of a young man who left his possessions behind and who believes that getting lost is how one finds oneself.

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