Content: beauty

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*NOTE* For those of you who have read or glanced at my two short stories--I Went To See My Man and I Our Last Number For Tonight Is.... those are both chapter segments from this story. I Went To See My Man was slightly altered (the character names were changed)....It’s now May 1970. Gianni Fabricante, a talented, young hippie musician, and Jimi Hendrix worshipper, is leaving for Europe (France) with his two best friends Jean de Villepan and Brent Alexis to form a rock n’ roll band and pursue pop music stardom. The problem? Gianni is the only one of the three who has any band experience, or knows what it takes to really rock n’ roll. Yet, Gianni is convinced he can rehearse his two hippie pals, Brent on second guitar, Jean on bass, into being a swinging rhythm section, backing his flashy performance style. This story swings to the rhythms of 60's rock and pop music, and the freedom flow of those people labeled as "hippies" and their nomadic search for life's truths and meaning that took place not only in America, but in Europe as well. Please feel free to review this story in the way you see fit, and all ideas and criticism will be greatly appreciated!

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This piece looks at the two-sided coins of sorrow, beauty and love; one side of the coin, blessing, the other side, burden.

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Please be gentle. Looking for feedback about theme and content.

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From the moment you can understand, until the day you leave us, you'll always cling to this one "truth."

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Poor schmuck.

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A reflection made last year. Now I'm six and thirty. Does that mak things better or worse?

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I blame Cynthia A., hahaha. Her yummy "cake poem" compelled me to pull this old poem up from the dusty old journals I keep. OK, so I'm being dramatic. I went a few pages back on my web community forum and pulled it up. Hope it's to your liking.

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Super rough at this point. I will put it through more edits but for now, I'm throwing it out there for others to pick apart, chew and spit back out at me.

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Ever since the semester's begun, and I take the bus to school, I've had to deal with dirty looks. Didn't I leave that behind, along with highschool and teen angst?! I wish I can tell these girls that, one day, they will not feel the need to base their own beauty and worth on someone else. It's silly... they're so beautiful already, and don't even realize it. (This haiku was just a bit of fun on my part while I was passing time on the bus).

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How affected is our view of ourselves-- our intelligence, beauty, self worth-- when pitted against someone who is supposed to be the embodiment of the "gold standard?" The evil is twofold: a loathing and envy of another, coupledd with budding self-loathing.

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Janine asked that I write something beautiful about poetry to offset my "Bleed Poet Bleed" piece.

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I was taking my early morning walk; the day before had been rather difficult; full of questions unanswered, and as I was thinking about it, part of this writing popped into my head...the title and the first 2 lines. I came home and added the rest.

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