About Me

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las vegas, nevada, United States
i am Carrie Ann Kawa , i am a poet, a writer, music lover, i enjoy intresting conversations, i love the words of others , i have a deep faith in something bigger then myself , i enjoy life instead of complaining about it , i look at the stars, have a wicked sence of humor and i know some where down the line i will be where i need to be for today is today. i walk where i have no place to go , i talk when there is nothing to say , i dream when i am awake . i am carrie and that is all i am ever going to be .

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

the bitter taste of salt

hehas walked barefoot on the land of man
today he sits , feet tired, red, burned, scared,and bleeding
sighing deeply, sitting on alog bench near an old general store someplace,somewhere
he thought with every step he took " the answer"would come clear , like the ringing of a bell
no such revealation came , just more confussion
he is not even sure if he is an angel or a man driven crazy by life
as he dozes off , his hands start to speak not in the traditional way , just in a way a thinker keeps on thinking when fatigue takes over
images flash on his brain a bad flash back of the now
he cries out in his sleep, as a dog whimpers at a storm that is coming near
too much , as he wakes up he goes deep into the woods to form a circle out of sticks
takes his straight razor , stripes himself naked
to look upon him at this moment the scares of written dogma are staggering
he is a book in the making, names, places, maps it is awe inspiring in its own depravity
childern faces on one arm etched with such detailed
faces of demons conversing together in a mixture of evil that makes a design indescribable on his torso
he stands in the circle and screams and now he is in a trance, the razor dances over his body like a sculptor at work re creating everything he has seen fires and floods, murder and mayhem
the rain comes hard it is filled with salt
he walkes again flesh raw ,red, and burning,tattooing the scares on his body
he walks to the ocean leaves his clothes on the beach and fades for a while
he know who he is
the girls will call him when its time
his black wings open stretched out like an ancient relics
the moon cast an ominous glow on him
from the distant .gemini picks up his clothes and waves in the only way girls can wave
carrie ann kawa 2/2007
next mr salt poem is title "gemini" we get to meet the strange little girls that seem to understand salts mission here

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