I'm a 47 year old with two sons, Sam (22) and Jim (19). I love poetry, music and fashion and work for a local company as a Finance Manager.My brother and I are both on the road to sobriety, after some very ugly and interesting experiences..my recent post 'The Sad Old Drunk Without a Head' is pretty much based on how we recall our boozy experiences!My brother (Lee) and I are currently embarking on a journey - 'The Picture Poet Society', which aims to capture our thoughts and feelings in pictures and poetry..we then hope to co-write a book on our 'Road to Sobriety'..which we believe will be inspiring to others that wish for a life without drink..so watch this space.I hope you enjoy my work and am always pleased to hear feedback..good or bad..mistakes will be made along the way..it's the only way we can strive to improve.Thanks! Shaun
Living in a cyst, it would explore the breast. The black ethics goes beyond the bounds of mystique of non-movement. A while away a conflict comes out of the body. Melts into a face. There is no flesh, no skin.
The bones are brittle as are the thoughts they crumble events of yesterdays that never happened things that happened not remembered today becomes another time faces and events mingle become a crazy quilt He sits and stares unaware of a
When a rose turns old petals fall but the rose bud remains and its beauty and fragrance leaves a lasting impression in our minds Sure the beauty and fragrance of a rose lasts but briefly but the rose garden goes
(1) In old time, Before the sun stopped circling around us; Before it started to work as a painter of our shadows and the shadow of time over place; Before it adopted the hobby to boil sand inside a vessel