D.W. Good

Go on ahead dear friend.
Go to where the world awaits you.
Go away to a place of welcome.
...

If you can not stand one word I chant then I understand
Because I may, in thoughtful play, ail and dismay
One who might read, in choppy speed, this writer’s need
To urge, impress and expel the excess
...

I saw that most of my days were spent looking back

And when this truth became me too many nights had gone.
...

So it goes our human nature
Thoughts fleeting thoughts repeating
Dances with pain and dealings with hunger
Self-inflicted or self-indulged
...

All of us are here upon the tidal swell of time
And most have, at least once I imagine, been vibrant like the sun
Aching with the unknown sweetness of life which will not be held in hand
All of us have felt undone by the course which we fail to master
...

It requires knowing one, this business of living, one out of them all,
Them being the numberless people you saw as the search endured
For the one, the mirror for the soul or light casting obelisk built for you,
The one true muse everlasting through the fog of years gone by,
...

I looked but it wasn’t there, and maybe, it never was
With me, not in my pocket or by my side
But lost, misplaced, mishandled.
It was a story worth telling, a song for the dark possessed soul
...

Inward looking eyes of man
Stretched upon the hills of land
...

It’s a low lingering moan persisting through the night outside these walls
An ode to the memory of bones – the mortal lease on life – tuned to the limitless time.
...

Thank you, Dragon, for cooperating with me.
I saw you walking in some kind of brisk meditation
And just then I knew that you and I
Were different somehow in ways beyond my imagination
And so you strode away while I meandered behind
...

First, it was the little things that mattered

And I was too small to now have the memory
...

It was a strain to say a single word

As the world grew cold and dark
...

It is no great moment in the history of men, but I, I will meet the sun today and watch it burn the frost away.

A thousand lifetimes lived in the body of one soul, happening according to no design, as it was, this soul, regarding life, intended to live only one.
...

It’s raining in December but the cold has yet to come,
And I, I remember wanting winter to be this way
As the summer ended, the green beginning the decay.
Mud is everywhere and the winter has not yet come.
...

We have not met, not formally. We have not touched our hands together or said nice things to the other. In fact, in some cases, being human is all that we have shared.
If there is time to spare let me so dare to share with you words true
Imagine yourself as the thief and I the joker AND steal away the words which fall out unbroken yet bound to be broken as their form will not endure the impact or the scorn,
Comedy when set against the backdropp of grave reality, even when most sincerely spoken.
...

The girl smiled a different smile yet still a novel sight
For me to look upon those lips and see a different side of me.
And she would not talk sometimes so that I was as good as blind
And she would stare and I would hear the difference of her voice now clear.
...