And Like that. I had this overwhelming urge. I don’t know what came over me. I asked God is this the route I should take. This habit of association. To weed out what may seem to be selfish. Time is of the essence. This illusion of what is definite or what may not be. Certainly this proclamation arrived out of nowhere. Again I asked. Notating my lack of patience. I found the choir of mind without direction. They stood and hummed. Some in que. Others were all over the place. Without a podium or overreaction to the problem.
Amen, acknowledging your grace. This aura highlighting sudden fixation. I sought guidence. Leaving the trail Whince I came. I felt pain in my rib. A spiritual curriculum decided by what’s missing. Again I asked. More left to the imagination A reiteration of urge. The potency of silence. Engaged by a look. I understood what the choir was saying
The falling poem was in bruising gamble of winter of troubled life, bound to a staircase: up and down up and down, on the rosette of grieving thighs. From sunset to sunset a moon rises in all its glory as
Running, searching, seeking, looking for that sign The one that says your welcome, please come inside The sign that says your wanted The sign that says your mine Running, searching, seeking looking for that sign A red rose resting on
An isle so lonely, that no one seeks. Full of allure and comeliness, that no one sees. I search, I seek, my Shangri-La, in solitude purdah of wilderness, seeking for my ecstasy. It’s the detritus they see, winsomeness, is what
I’m seeking my immortal foe He must mosh hard and enjoy Edgar Allen Poe You should have a secret identity that nobody can know … Be a secret sexy super-villain, be my, John Doe! I’m now hiring, inquire within! Don’t
Your insistence to become something, to overstay existence was not fair. On a row of white shrouds – holding innocent beings, death was walking barefoot, crying. Between farewell and stupidity, staccato, shooting questions to life. What was the need for