the paper edge
ticks along
lifting me from my error…
I am not noticed
this spark, this colour, this ache
these words
and it is right, as right as can be in a moving illusion
to overlook
attention is like glue
liquid is the way
liquid is this vessel and contained
something bigger
but infinitesimally small
I wander a rambling lie
I revel a pressing deceit
I awake in a flaunting dream
who am I to be commanding release?
really, I ask
qui suis je?
more art? www.artofkundalini.com
All That Glitters Is Not Gold
it is all just bullshit anyway.....
Your Brain is a Radio that Does What its Told
Haikus Senryus and Tankas about anything and everything
Poetry
musings on life | bits of psychology | attempts at poetry
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Scripting the desires that are soul deep
material
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The Poetry Monarch.
Life, death, and everything in between
JEFF CALLAWAY
Darkness, delusion, smeared with a stick of butter and laughter. Words collide, they bring forth death!
Pain goes in, love comes out.
well, come on in. bite. chew. spit.
Love that “moving illusion…” phrase.
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yes me too, i want to take that and expand on it x
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Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
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xxxx
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❤ Hope you've been well and sending you joyful happy holiday wishes. ❤
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thanks! yes we are all well xx
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