she is a wanderer. a lost soul just trying to find somewhere safe to settle down. she walks these endless streets like a ghost. she is the town’s phantom. just another loner. just another lost girl. searching for a place in this god-awful world.
To wander through the woods. To wander around town. To go somewhere, circling the place, not knowing what to expect. Not knowing what you’re looking for. And even better … not caring.
Alone in the woods in the dark with snow on the ground. A full moon overheard lighting up the earth as i walk. Each step is a new experience as the snow crunches beneath….peaceful, beautiful, eerie…..beautiful.
I was lost tonight. And I let my feet move on their own, it was terrifying. The trees bowed above me, branching slowly across my shoulders, pushing me to the earth. I didn’t feel my feet fall into the earth, but I was grounded for a moment by the roots and dirt.
wasn’t yesterday’s word wand? well i supposed a wander would be someone who uses a wand… Or, it could be interpreted as to move aimlessly without purpose, but whenever i wander, i always try to do so to get lost, so i suppose i do have a purpose.
Allow my mind to wander
through time and space
considering the world and all of it’s wonder
While wandering through this mental image
It doesn’t seem like it fits with our world
I guess my mind’s legs just would rather journey
to where one could be
instead of where it currently sits.
Your eyes met mine and I didn’t know what else to think. I knew, in that moment. I knew I’d never again have to search. The glassy surfaces locked and I exchanged a breath with you. Our lips met.
Wander, wandering aimlessly through the street looking for a safe place to hide. They’re going to find me any minute now, surely they have to be getting closer. Running, I’m running now, looking for any nook or cranny to fit myself into.
I roam the world because I am the God of Travel.
None see me, because they expect a great man.
I am the elderly gentlemen in yellow.
You’ll know me when you see me.
See you on the road.
Wandering aimlessly in the dark cavern of doom continuum. Penis blank stare cold as ice in a monocle half dead. Dark and cold in the space of time. Vacuum face empty portal. Walking in the forest.
As a child, I loved to wander around the corn fields next door to my house. They were filled with so much mystery – mostly because my mother forbade me to go in them. But, hardheaded child as I was, I went anyway. My father didn’t seem to mind too much. He just didn’t like that I always played with the boys. I’ve always been too much like him, Mama says.
Gabriel blinked, tried to bring his eyes back into focus. His head was spinning. “It was. But then I was doing a favor for Asia.”
“Where did you go?” Christian asked.
“A Russian, in prison in Siberia. Well, he’s been undercover so long he thinks he’s Russian. But he’s British Security Service. And he has something we need.”
i went wandering one day down a path strewn with dead flowers and leaves. It felt as if the earth had surrounded me and had left a dampness in the air that was without wanting. As I looked in front of me it was a path that seemed to go on forever/
To become aimless, searching for one’s purpose in life and the cosmos as it is known. An irrefutable state of being when one’s stability in life is emptied from it. A counteraction to the sameness that engulfs our world.
not all who wander are lost. it is the philosophers’ model or mojo or goal. that guy jesse,i think, his name was that believed that totally. i don’t wander. i hurry. i sprint or hustle. i move and move and move. i am not a philosopher. i am a mover. i am a shaker. i am someone who wants to be a philosopher but I ain’t.
me gusta vagar por las calles sin pensar, tan sólo ver cómo se balancean las hojas a la par del aire, escuchar cómo éstas suenan en conjunto, sentir la brisa en mis mejillas, el frío que me ocasiona escalofríos de vez en cuando. quisiera vagar con la cabeza en blanco, evitarme de problemas. Vagar sin ambicionar ni soñar, sólo caminar por caminar.
I walked through the scrub, branches scratched at my legs. Rivulets of blood trickled onto my white socks, staining them pink. I pushed aside a low hanging branch and stepped into an open space. In the middle sat a ring of toadstools. What have I wandered into now? I thought.
i wander,here and there,runnign away from anything conventional,anything that tells me where to go,what to do,i know nothing but freedom when i wander….there’s nothing but emptiness,it’s all about surrendering….ideas,values,concepts…nothing’s right,absolute…everything s in disguise,aprat from me wandering in the sand dunes,on the mapworld,but it never lasts,my thoughts always caught me up at last
and the wanderer wandered, far and long, through many many forsets, encountering many many trees an yet still he went on though he had no place to go, the wanderer, wandered and there was not much else that he concidered worth his time, but wandering and loving the world
and he wanders listlessly again. he buried his innocence with a girl who existed a long time ago. Reversion. A pitiful child stepping over puddles in the cold winter street. where to now, oh great one?
I knew the dream had started, and I began traversing the twisted, mirror-like halls of my own fractured subconscious. I was afraid, unsure what I would find, uncertain what dark horrors I would conjure to combat myself. I wondered if Odysseus or Magellan, or Armstrong felt this way when they embarked on their own journeys. In any case, it was too late to turn back.
I just want to wander through a park, a city, a store – anything to leave the responsibilities of life behind for just a few hours. Wandering is great – it’s good for the soul. You can discover yourself and discover others with just a little wandering.
aimlessly, in a forest, down an empty street. wander downtown, observing people with hats, funny pants, big noses and wonder what they are doing here. wonder if people are looking at you asking themselves the same thing. wander to a place you think no one has been before.
I wandered lonely upon a cloud. Is that from thoreau? I think it is. I’m wandering. I’m wandering, you see. There’s nothing much in the form in tangibility it’s all lost in in the doubt of serenity.
It wasn’t the destination. It was the wonderment….that nothing was important. That this was all there is in existence. This wandering. This path. Going nowhere but existing everywhere. Hidden in plain sight.
I wander around in the school halls. No reason, no place it seems. There is no reason for the wandering except that sometime it must come to an end. The Wandering is free, completely free to do what ever you heart tells you, but it is not so all the time in school. There is parameters to my wandering
I want to wander the world once I graduate from college. I can’t wait to be free and have my own adventures, there are so many that await me. I want independence. I want to wander and wonder through life.
My thoughts wander around the memories I have of you. I would like to think that the way you look at me means something more, but I know better. I’m not stupid. I want there to be something, yet you are thinking of someone else.
roll me a blunt
and let my mind wander
it’s been a while
i have been avoiding
freedom
i have been scared
to know
what i will think
what might come to mind
may differ
from what i want
Kyle at the floor class thought that this word was wander. Like wail. Kinda. I’m not sure, phoneticy-ness isn’t my type of thing. But yeah, that was really funny. Probably the first inside joke of the floor, it made the quote wall and everything. That’s interesting to remember, the inside jokes of a group. And that was floor class when people liked it. Can communities help from getting a little stale? How can I freshen up the community? Tricky, tricky said the pickle. What is that quote from? This whole sixty second continuation thing is annoying.
I am used to wander. i do it all the time. Is practically everything i do. that means I do nothing all day long. Ok. yes, I am a loser.
I am out of thoughts
wandering around. walking. seeing. not 100 percent where you’re going, but that’s okay because you’re wandering. it doesnt have to mean anything to anyone but you.
When we went walking weekends, we went where William would wander. Wearing wet wear, we’d worry whether weather would wipe wickedly. Windstorms whirled waywardly while William wasted welted wood, wishing with white whiskey and wine.
she is a wanderer. a lost soul just trying to find somewhere safe to settle down. she walks these endless streets like a ghost. she is the town’s phantom. just another loner. just another lost girl. searching for a place in this god-awful world.
To wander through the woods. To wander around town. To go somewhere, circling the place, not knowing what to expect. Not knowing what you’re looking for. And even better … not caring.
Alone in the woods in the dark with snow on the ground. A full moon overheard lighting up the earth as i walk. Each step is a new experience as the snow crunches beneath….peaceful, beautiful, eerie…..beautiful.
I was lost tonight. And I let my feet move on their own, it was terrifying. The trees bowed above me, branching slowly across my shoulders, pushing me to the earth. I didn’t feel my feet fall into the earth, but I was grounded for a moment by the roots and dirt.
She wandered in and out of the empty rooms, abandoned and dilapidated, imagining the decadent lives of those who had once inhabited them.
wasn’t yesterday’s word wand? well i supposed a wander would be someone who uses a wand… Or, it could be interpreted as to move aimlessly without purpose, but whenever i wander, i always try to do so to get lost, so i suppose i do have a purpose.
Allow my mind to wander
through time and space
considering the world and all of it’s wonder
While wandering through this mental image
It doesn’t seem like it fits with our world
I guess my mind’s legs just would rather journey
to where one could be
instead of where it currently sits.
Your eyes met mine and I didn’t know what else to think. I knew, in that moment. I knew I’d never again have to search. The glassy surfaces locked and I exchanged a breath with you. Our lips met.
Wander, wandering aimlessly through the street looking for a safe place to hide. They’re going to find me any minute now, surely they have to be getting closer. Running, I’m running now, looking for any nook or cranny to fit myself into.
I roam the world because I am the God of Travel.
None see me, because they expect a great man.
I am the elderly gentlemen in yellow.
You’ll know me when you see me.
See you on the road.
-Fharlanghn
Wandering aimlessly in the dark cavern of doom continuum. Penis blank stare cold as ice in a monocle half dead. Dark and cold in the space of time. Vacuum face empty portal. Walking in the forest.
As a child, I loved to wander around the corn fields next door to my house. They were filled with so much mystery – mostly because my mother forbade me to go in them. But, hardheaded child as I was, I went anyway. My father didn’t seem to mind too much. He just didn’t like that I always played with the boys. I’ve always been too much like him, Mama says.
“Your mind is wandering,” Tobias said.
Gabriel blinked, tried to bring his eyes back into focus. His head was spinning. “It was. But then I was doing a favor for Asia.”
“Where did you go?” Christian asked.
“A Russian, in prison in Siberia. Well, he’s been undercover so long he thinks he’s Russian. But he’s British Security Service. And he has something we need.”
i went wandering one day down a path strewn with dead flowers and leaves. It felt as if the earth had surrounded me and had left a dampness in the air that was without wanting. As I looked in front of me it was a path that seemed to go on forever/
To become aimless, searching for one’s purpose in life and the cosmos as it is known. An irrefutable state of being when one’s stability in life is emptied from it. A counteraction to the sameness that engulfs our world.
not all who wander are lost. it is the philosophers’ model or mojo or goal. that guy jesse,i think, his name was that believed that totally. i don’t wander. i hurry. i sprint or hustle. i move and move and move. i am not a philosopher. i am a mover. i am a shaker. i am someone who wants to be a philosopher but I ain’t.
WANDER:the inevitable question then has to arise:does the soul continue on after it is separated from the body?yes.
I have wandered the galaxies
searching for my twin flame,
and yet you stay
just beyond my reach.
He, wandered by the lonely meadow.
Where nothing stopped him from thinking.
Thinking of reality, dreaming, realization.
me gusta vagar por las calles sin pensar, tan sólo ver cómo se balancean las hojas a la par del aire, escuchar cómo éstas suenan en conjunto, sentir la brisa en mis mejillas, el frío que me ocasiona escalofríos de vez en cuando. quisiera vagar con la cabeza en blanco, evitarme de problemas. Vagar sin ambicionar ni soñar, sólo caminar por caminar.
I walked through the scrub, branches scratched at my legs. Rivulets of blood trickled onto my white socks, staining them pink. I pushed aside a low hanging branch and stepped into an open space. In the middle sat a ring of toadstools. What have I wandered into now? I thought.
i wander,here and there,runnign away from anything conventional,anything that tells me where to go,what to do,i know nothing but freedom when i wander….there’s nothing but emptiness,it’s all about surrendering….ideas,values,concepts…nothing’s right,absolute…everything s in disguise,aprat from me wandering in the sand dunes,on the mapworld,but it never lasts,my thoughts always caught me up at last
and the wanderer wandered, far and long, through many many forsets, encountering many many trees an yet still he went on though he had no place to go, the wanderer, wandered and there was not much else that he concidered worth his time, but wandering and loving the world
and he wanders listlessly again. he buried his innocence with a girl who existed a long time ago. Reversion. A pitiful child stepping over puddles in the cold winter street. where to now, oh great one?
I knew the dream had started, and I began traversing the twisted, mirror-like halls of my own fractured subconscious. I was afraid, unsure what I would find, uncertain what dark horrors I would conjure to combat myself. I wondered if Odysseus or Magellan, or Armstrong felt this way when they embarked on their own journeys. In any case, it was too late to turn back.
I just want to wander through a park, a city, a store – anything to leave the responsibilities of life behind for just a few hours. Wandering is great – it’s good for the soul. You can discover yourself and discover others with just a little wandering.
A wandering soul, drifting through a field of bodies. A tear, a hug, a smile. A tombstone.
aimlessly, in a forest, down an empty street. wander downtown, observing people with hats, funny pants, big noses and wonder what they are doing here. wonder if people are looking at you asking themselves the same thing. wander to a place you think no one has been before.
I wandered lonely upon a cloud. Is that from thoreau? I think it is. I’m wandering. I’m wandering, you see. There’s nothing much in the form in tangibility it’s all lost in in the doubt of serenity.
When I sought you out,
I thought you were here to tell me
that the waterfalls that were
pouring from your mouth were lies.
You said they’re not-
but I’ll wander from that point
and I have to ask,
how is the weather where you are?
Are you happy lost in your own world-
Among the tedious theories
that you spew?
It wasn’t the destination. It was the wonderment….that nothing was important. That this was all there is in existence. This wandering. This path. Going nowhere but existing everywhere. Hidden in plain sight.
I wander around in the school halls. No reason, no place it seems. There is no reason for the wandering except that sometime it must come to an end. The Wandering is free, completely free to do what ever you heart tells you, but it is not so all the time in school. There is parameters to my wandering
Without a purpose or a destination…..
I want to wander the world once I graduate from college. I can’t wait to be free and have my own adventures, there are so many that await me. I want independence. I want to wander and wonder through life.
My thoughts wander around the memories I have of you. I would like to think that the way you look at me means something more, but I know better. I’m not stupid. I want there to be something, yet you are thinking of someone else.
roll me a blunt
and let my mind wander
it’s been a while
i have been avoiding
freedom
i have been scared
to know
what i will think
what might come to mind
may differ
from what i want
Kyle at the floor class thought that this word was wander. Like wail. Kinda. I’m not sure, phoneticy-ness isn’t my type of thing. But yeah, that was really funny. Probably the first inside joke of the floor, it made the quote wall and everything. That’s interesting to remember, the inside jokes of a group. And that was floor class when people liked it. Can communities help from getting a little stale? How can I freshen up the community? Tricky, tricky said the pickle. What is that quote from? This whole sixty second continuation thing is annoying.
I am used to wander. i do it all the time. Is practically everything i do. that means I do nothing all day long. Ok. yes, I am a loser.
I am out of thoughts
wandering around. walking. seeing. not 100 percent where you’re going, but that’s okay because you’re wandering. it doesnt have to mean anything to anyone but you.
When we went walking weekends, we went where William would wander. Wearing wet wear, we’d worry whether weather would wipe wickedly. Windstorms whirled waywardly while William wasted welted wood, wishing with white whiskey and wine.
Why?
Writing. Wrestling with writing.