i smell the
hot shadows
they linger
like sticky sweet
liquid
and
sunshine
dark
musky pieces
that come alive
to be collected in a perfect picture
eaten later
washing
me
with river
fire
perfume
melting and
spawning
whispering
on knifes edge
weaving sharply
softly
through my senses
figures who live
in me
who stretch and twine
through me
like
naked
wires
almost
finally
nearly
completely
touching
Spawning in Lava River ~ more art at www.artofkundalini.com
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
In other countries individuals go to jail and/or die for weblogging. While the bulk of this country makes the internet an extention of T.V.
Let me inspire the possibility of what could be
"where creativity roams free"
The Poetry Monarch.
What do anxiety and being chased by a killer Canadian goose have in common?
JEFF CALLAWAY
Darkness, delusion, smeared with a stick of butter and laughter. Words collide, they bring forth death!
Hoping to inspire the world one word at a time.
Sharing my poetry to help end the stigma about mental health
well, come on in. bite. chew. spit.
He started Writing, The paper started speaking...
Once lost
A most interesting title for the painting.
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thanks Charles 😉
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