Archive for 1975

1975-09-17

Wednesday, September 17th, 1975
               In the early morning
               when the fires are roaring slowly
               the dreams that come to me
               can be born of something now
               and I see that its my father
               whose awake.
               His light is wove within the winds
               and deeds of all my brothers
               and I can see his smiling face
               behind the fabric of my life.
                                 gallagher
                                 17 september 75

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1975-09-22

Monday, September 22nd, 1975
            Sometimes I imagine I'm free...
            that I've come thru my conditioning
            to the other side
            where my choices are really mine.
            But then I feel the groundswell
            of my society and times
            and I become a leaf again
            in the torrent of our history
            bumping into the other leaves
            as we are all carried along...
            along to the same problems and illusions
            which surround us as we fall.
            We're on the apital end of evolution, bound
            to what ever final destiny awaits leaves
            and their small dreams.
                                 gallagher
                                 22 september 75

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1975-09-22

Monday, September 22nd, 1975
         All visions turn and fade away.
         All realities eventually become a play.
         I walk on the edge of becoming
         someone I don't know,
         to avoid something worse.
         In and out of my plays,
         alternately, I weave both sides
         of sanity together;
         the real and the illusion...
         Better men than I have tried
         to symbolize the essence of living
         for reasons no better than mine.
         everything worth doing is just a choice,
         making it, just a move
         which fills the time we're passing,
         as we chose.
                                 gallagher
                                 25 september 75

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —