My Thoughts

Quite a long time

2006-11-06T19:44:27Z

Hello everyone,

It has been a long time. How is everyone doing?

In my head

2006-02-09T16:58:49Z

Below the nightime sky, while the clouds gather and cover the silver light of the moon, my body lies bathing in darkness, waiting for an Angels's tune
Sleeping in sheets, tatered and torn, as the the wind blows cold and tickles my soul
I can feel the sharp edged emotions cutting me in pieces and collecting them in a bowl

phil123 @ 2006-02-03T08:14:00

2006-02-03T13:18:00Z

"Joe Grant" From Dr. Who, buff with a dalek and Mr. Peabody and Sherman will help get me through today!

No Winter Yet!

2006-02-03T13:09:46Z

It is raining this morning here in NY. This afternoon the sun will come out and it will be 60 degrees. Winter is having a bad time of it. Just a little time left.

Not really winter!

2006-01-20T16:14:21Z

It will be close to 60 degrees in NY for the next couple of days. That is not winter! What is it? Proof of global warming? Who the hell knows whats going on any more.
I really like the winter. Yes, I am real Fall-Winter person. The hot summer pisses me off. The spring is OK, but right now I want winter.

I can't feel the cold of the winter night,
when the warm bodies glow with the sweetest light
Stars are dimmed from shinning so bright
My body strains from muscles so tight

Survey

2006-01-09T17:47:42Z

here, it's a survey you do and leave in the comments....

YOU
1. Name:
2. Date of birth:
3. Where you live:
4. What makes you happy:
5. Currently listening/the last thing you listened to:
6. Do you read my journal?:
7. If yes, what makes it especially good or bad?:
8. An interesting fact about you:
9. Are you in love/do you have a crush at the moment?:
10. Favourite place to spend time:
11. Favourite lyric:
12. The best time of the year:

RECOMMEND
1. A film:
2. A book:
3. A band, a song, or album:

PLUS
1. One thing you like about me:
2. Two things you like about yourself:
3. Look at my friends-list and tell what you like about one of our mutual friends:
4. Put this in your journal so that I can tell you what I like about you.

Art Of Bill Ward

2005-12-31T00:34:09Z

If only I Could!

Perfect from here!

Good enough to eat!

Ain't They Sweet!!!!

In My Mind

2005-12-30T17:09:47Z

Sketches of faces I can only touch in my mind
Bodies of all the women I desire, on the page combined
into one full, firm person, breast and sweet behind
to take into my arms and treat so very kind

Say Goodbye to another one

2005-12-28T17:01:38Z

2005 is fading fast and I am sure glad it's going.
A very good person I know died this year and my health took a turn for the worse.
I turned 50 and tried real real hard to suppress the feeling that I am old. I can't turn back the clock, but I feel like my ability to live is gone forever. In my heart I still want to do things like making new friends and renewing old ones. I am afraid that I just can't feel love anymore. I am too old to feel love and to give it!!!

Another year passes into the package of time
Finally the body clock has ticked way past its prime
All the hearts deep passions ooze like primal slime
and all the words I reach for have no reason or rhyme

phil123 @ 2005-11-08T11:37:00

2005-11-08T16:59:42Z

I saw the movie “Sylvia” last night. It is not easy to understand this brilliant woman. One can only read her poetry and relish her haunting words. Her ultimate demise, coming at her own hands, was the culmination of a long, hard decent into madness which led to a case of terminal depression. Sylvia in a way gave her monsters freedom and they ate her alive. Many people over the years have blamed her husband, poet Ted Hughes, for Sylvia’s suicide. He left her for another woman, but it seems he was driven away. I suppose he wasn’t equipped to take care of this very special woman.
Read her works and celebrate this beautiful, but lost soul. I couldn’t help but realize that we all have a little bit of Sylvia Plath’s obsession with death and despair.

The Alien Bite

2005-11-04T01:14:35Z

In a dream I loved her in a metal room, on a bed of glowing white
On my body she left her marks, that of the alien bite

It didn’t matter that she took my love and drained my will to fight
I was filled with pleasure I had never known, that began with that alien bite

I was filled with passion, my body burnt deep into that night
Filled with fever, I had no choice but submit to the alien bite

The compulsion to have her filled my brain, her body raw in my sight
She led the way into herself guided by her alien bite

Not just lust filled my heart but affection deep and bright
Injected with love from my anomalous lover, the needle of her alien bite

Her mind spoke without a word, to show me all was right
She wanted the seed that came from body, procured from the alien bite

Philip J Postiglione
2003

I Wonder Who She Was?

2005-11-03T20:07:11Z

How strange is this person in my bed?
I wonder as I rest.
What secrets are deep within her head,
that is sleeping on my chest?

How strange was the love we made?
The question comes to mind.
Holding her body the visions fade,
and become so difficult to find.

How strange am I to even dare?
To question my slumbering guest.
Who gave her body sweet and bare,
within my bedroom's nest.

How strange it seemed as I touched her face.
Her passions flowed through me.
My heart sped to a frightening pace,
and into her mind I could see.

How strange it was when she awoke,
and sighed as a woman does.
She talked to me but never spoke.
I wonder who she was?

Philip J. Postiglione
Copyright ©2004 Philip Joseph Postiglione

Touched by Her Eyes

2005-11-03T19:41:27Z

From the corner of the page a picture of someone I have never seen, never known in any way
Seems to see through my shell, removing my troubled disguise
Young and gentle beauty, glowing sweet, lighting my deep gloomy day
Then it happened, I can’t explain, my heart was touched by her eyes
Yes, I melted in the view of those eyes

Philip Postiglione
October, 2005

Loosing Dreams

2005-11-03T16:09:45Z

Loosing dreams like raindrops in the sand
Keeps happening at a frightening rate
In my sleep my frozen hand
Can’t grasp at the threads of fate

Fleeting moments of an endless past
Leak into the rivers of the lost
Each vision appears and fades so fast
So my dreams are the final cost

Phil Postiglione
October, 2005