…Yes, and Adlib….Perhaps a poetry corner or some area for creative writing would be rather neat here at POV. Certainly would set this site aside from the rest of the stone cold money machine sites we all know of. Our thoughts put on paper are like children in a very real respect. They appear from the soul and cannot be disputed. They are ours….alone.

…that and I feel weird using your creation as a soapbox solely for my pieces. Please consider an area for this output.

your friend, Scott

As I’ve said before, all of you are important to me. I realize very well how odd that sounds when I’ve never met any of you in person, yet I feel close to so many of you. Your words inspire me to write more and take more photos…if only for myself.
Over the last few weeks I have been forced to face some very ugly truths about myself and my future. I am in the process of coming to terms with gut wrenching hardships that I am going to have endure alone. I also have decided that I can no longer sit in a cubicle and bust my ass to make someone far up the elevator shaft wealthy. I scramble to find work and feel as though those in power are using this downturn to restructure their businesses to make less people do far more to boost the profit margins. I am sickened by this bullshit. If I’m to suffer and toil endlessly for the rest of my days here on earth, I am going to suffer and toil for MY OWN benefit….for MY bottom line. It seems anymore the very poor have ways to game the system and those on the very top are masters of the same. We here in the middle just watch the game get played, when it’s truly WE that get played. And then we die.
Yes, I am in a storm of serious trouble. Yes, I am knocking on the door of middle age. Yes, I am hurting and confused frequently. But, the clock is ticking. Not just for me, but for all of us.
I want my photo studio back. I want to continue to write. These things are what I am as a human…not as a worker bee…a drone. These things have value as ALL creative endeavors do…as they are true…they are honest. Yes, maybe I will be homeless and lost for awhile. I suppose it’s fate. As much as I fear this outcome, perhaps it’s the journey I am destined to take. If I do disappear for awhile from here…please don’t forget about me. I am out there somewhere. I have my trusty iPod Touch and maybe if I can borrow little cups of WiFi here and there…I’ll be able to post here from time to time. Until the internet gets turned off here I will continue to come here for a little peace, friendship and unity. The world is my church now…

Here is another entry and I will try to post every so often. If I’ve learned anything it’s that it’s best to pace yourself. ~smile~
Emerald, that was really kind of you to say. Although I receive no money for any book sold, it’s nice to know someone enjoys the words that are pouring out of my wounded soul…LOL~
The remainder of poems are found in the book ‘Ubiquity’ here:

http://www.blurb.com/books/1012658

A Thief in the Temple

Her heartbeats ever slow….
She studies the passages…the chambers
Memories serve her every need
The fool will never see it coming
No one could have prepared the fool

A silent dedication to self-reliance
Our thief is skilled in deception
Skulking in the corridors, always in shadow
Lurking in the misty haze of complacency
She coyly awaits the moment to deliver the blade

The thief becomes a murderess
The title fills her veins with pride
The strength to eviscerate the hopeless, hapless fool
Thrills the thief in the temple
A sniggering cutthroat and a hellish maw

Then the deed is delivered
The fool gasps and grasps for life again
There is no time now for apologies
“Arrest her, arrest her!”…cries the fool
The barefooted thief slinks away without worrying a breeze.

Scott Palmer