Living the poetry of my awakening, dawn's whiskey showers, stone-washed singing. Spending twilight in prayers as the laughter is contagious on life's gossamer wings. Rewriting the blue of green grass and trees that nature breathes. Touched by fingerprints...
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Adagio
7 hours ago
0 miles · Savannah
Stories
To quiche is to love, more than a soufflé. A place to niche, a deep dish of memories. Naked as corn, when flour was in the shaker. To only grow old with you, feeling the quiche. Quiche me, Camembert, entering Heaven.
From Cliffs Notes, prayers in the abbey with the abundance of acorns caps dripping the dew of dawn's pekoe surrounded by shadows in dreams in its spivvy of nature's greenery touched by the monks of tall trees as the scent shaker falls the leaves with the...
Paying dues to the fortuneteller listening to your breath from speakers in my mind like whispers in a teacup taking refuge inside your dreams "Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood!" behind the shadow takers with your personalized keychain in everything that...
With gothic melodies, peat's dark hole listing to twilight's pale shade of the saplings chaffed wheat and pallid hours, soundless tweet a tempest within my ominous sagaciously winging your soul, cold blows the midnight songs lurking the beast, in my am in...
...in death coming close, brushing the moon, my decaying corpse, to kissing my birth, laying down playing dead, with my fate touching my body, once the eyelids, in life wearing masks over my genitals, nothing to read, except for my obituary, dust drifting...
Among the dead, we are curious. We are haunted. You scream for ice cream, and we scream out of loneliness. Walking the halls of death leaving no footprints or shadows. At times tossed out with the trash, once scented, now lost. As ghosts, we have no pedig...
...with cello strings in nature's woods in the silence of an unspoken tree to the edge of forever, I see drinking deep the inevitable the aroma of coffee and only me and patience in living in nature incorporating life into prayer and myths listening to wi...
Listening to fool's chatter the hypocrisy of dark's inquisitor "my God, what has happened, with fire over the waterfall?' name brands deceiving pedophile roses and politicians lying and skeleton stems of man and beast food for carrion look for the shadow...
Chaos, unpredictable running helter-skelter burning down homes flinging stones scripted but no King David crazy, deranged addiction, intoxication madmen insane everything woke Prozac made in China logjams, bridges block one-way streets with speed bumps an...
Beneath a tin can sky of indigo-blue and the doves can coo on nature's mother earth adorning the Ponderosa Pines with a basketful of jubilation as God's shells sunlight cascading over babbling brook and Ebenezer stones in poetic Genesis and the doves can...
Getting my nude on beneath the Hippocratic eyes of dubious doubters who have lost bouquets being the squatters to observe the nakedness of you and I focusing on the shadow of my being into the midst of recurring dreams my own Michelangelo and not someone'...
Just me and my muse, at play in a field of wishful thinking, so I sow my own seeds and reap the sweetness of my family. You don't know me, a well-worn pen, assuming me wrong, in blind eyesight. But that's the way I am wary, not a fool. Sarcastically, my f...
Come home to me my rose bud Ebb Tide, rising, in lieu of dark roses, a beautiful flower was, as the song, loves a woman, so flows emotions, softly now walking with the silent winds and the faded blooms of yester-hour's crying.
I give you my progeny, disassembled, therefore, I am, my am, in memory of long ago, non-relevant you the sun, I a passing willow, at a distance from a dream I incognito, disassembled, a shadow on the window pane with Amador Whiskey over ice now here comes...