I am smoke
folding ribbons of disappearing
me
smoulder
I
in curls that rise and dance
a geometry of truth
a Pollock mathematics
that defies imagination
works magic
in the fleshly air
if you can find space i worship you
if you can prick density
you are my god
Let me be smoke
for touching clouds is my dream
even if i must tiptoe on fat island leaves to reach it
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
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.
Scripting the desires that are soul deep
"where creativity roams free"
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.
