Twisted roots that pattern themselves in soil, are like hidden truths that always come to light. Slowly taking root in darkness, creeping ….growing towards the light. The web of deception and flowers of thorns that grow, destroy the trust of a seed which wants to blossom….. born from the same soil.
"Whispers from my Soul" .... allows me to express exactly that. Everything that I write is actually a part of my life. So difficult to express verbally , but makes complete sense when I put pen to paper.
A silence on the night. The day fluttered quietly in whisper soft resonance, So many colours slowly dying Like confetti in the rain, And echoes touched each other, a reunion of themselves, As though they were astounded At their resonating
The moral dilemma was unlearning. less than truth. Downgrading the- branded witch. Vaccine was spawning new virus. O Buddha, why did you started looking beautiful and began sitting in a living room? Trailing the smoke I was going to find
(as imagined by this lumpenproletariat) When no bigger then innocuous, ho hum, happy go lucky generic black whole sonny and cher full pinhead size zit, thine pluperfect promising mysterious seat of pants whodunnit wordlessly wise wedded waywardness writ partly apportioned,
Addiction to harmless Is accepted Addiction to harmful Is not advisable Addiction is submission Which involves Imaginations Addition is Pollution Which involves Revolution Addition is attraction Which involves Affection Addition is a fiction Which involves Correction Addition is a caution