describe the heart.

AUTOMATIC WRITING
-forces you to let go of censor
-time self for 15 minutes or so.
-write, write, write... don't stop.
-NO crossing out.
-NO thinking.
-try not to write neatly.



June, 2006
A heart. A heart. Beating, bleeding, your never-failing worker-bee, as long as you know it to be. Never a dull moment, never a second of rest. As we say we owe our lives to love? To nurture? No. To a heart that never quits. Pumping a pulsing, sometimes so loud to hear it: your best friend. Knows when to rush and when to slow down. When to be joyful and when to cry. Never a dull moment, never a second of rest.
And look where this has all brought us to. A heart we never think about, a brain we never talk to. Things we take for granted like courage and a home. What would be without it. Ask the tinman or scarecrow, the lion or dorothy. They know the routine. They know what its like to be spared of lie's greatest wonders. Funny, how so many things have the freedom to rebel, have the will to go against the grain, and still we find ourselves in a fairly trusting humanity. A world where we ask a complete stranger to take our picture, a reality where we don't hear a loud pulse when walking alone. Why? He said the mammals have the biggest hearts, in so many words. He gave us the gift that's never quitting: A heart. A heart. Beating, bleeding, yournever-failing worker-bee. But why do we fail it? Why have we found ourselves, a people, dooming our most valuable gifts? [What's] next for this life? What's in store for a people with hearts full of fire and war? What's up with our world, with a heart of money... not love? What can we expect? Has there even been a time that wasn't like this? I find myself on the yellow-brick road too often, seeing too many men and women without a brain... or a heart.