I can't think of a title...

I can't think of a title...
By: rturk	Whichever way the path leads, we will swagger along beneath the moonlit beams and headlights of crusaders' vehicles, merciless pathogen tracing a semicircular route through holidays, and maize fields, and bullet ricochets. "I love you. Let's go for a drive." Hang gliders stall, and shower curses upon us one and all, the landlocked the inconsistent, the inaffable, the deranged. Carrying cartons full of broken and rejected cigarettes, showering them upon the city. One time I want to just yell out, and holler, and scream in this guys's face. "Leave me alone." I spent too much time thinking about thinking, planning to prepare myself, for what I did not know. Now I don't know. But I think differently. "I love you, let's go for a ride." I throw my chewing gum at road signs, and make lots of noise. So much noise that it distracts the air, the smoke from rising, the voices from falling, and the agents from calling. The sun is gone. It's so strange to have this site online, and always being ready to entertain, or to challenge myself, or to perhaps in some slight way change the world for the better. I should probably give that up. I wish that someone would write me with some suggestions or feedback or something. With a baby on the way, I feel like I should be making the world a better place somehow. I had hoped that the web would become a glorious playground of cereberal engagement between humans. Commerce, communication, education, and politics redefined. I fear the cyber fiefdoms and enclaves of like minded people all repeating the same things to each other, a billion ministers preaching to the converted, but we've got to reach out. Challenge ourselves, and one another, and engage strangers in ways our ancestors could not have imagined.

Whichever way the path leads,
we will swagger along
beneath the moonlit beams and
headlights of crusaders'
vehicles,
merciless pathogen tracing a
semicircular route
through holidays, and maize fields,
and bullet ricochets.

"I love you. Let's go for a drive."

Hang gliders stall, and shower curses
upon us one and all, the landlocked
the inconsistent, the inaffable, the
deranged. Carrying cartons full
of broken and rejected cigarettes,
showering them upon the city.

One time I want to just yell out, and
holler, and scream in this guys's
face. "Leave me alone."
I spent too much time thinking about thinking,
planning to prepare myself, for
what I did not know. Now I don't
know. But I think differently.

"I love you, let's go for a ride."

I throw my chewing gum at road signs,
and make lots of noise. So much
noise that it distracts the air,
the smoke from rising, the voices from
falling, and the agents from calling.
The sun is gone.

It's so strange to have this site online, and always being ready to entertain, or to challenge myself, or to perhaps in some slight way change the world for the better. I should probably give that up. I wish that someone would write me with some suggestions or feedback or something.

With a baby on the way, I feel like I should be making the world a better place somehow. I had hoped that the web would become a glorious playground of cereberal engagement between humans. Commerce, communication, education, and politics redefined. I fear the cyber fiefdoms and enclaves of like minded people all repeating the same things to each other, a billion ministers preaching to the converted, but we've got to reach out. Challenge ourselves, and one another, and engage strangers in ways our ancestors could not have imagined.