There is sweat and magic in her creases
a fragrant treasure
a fervent secret
there is a flashing
world of neurocracy
there is red
and there is black
there is in fact
a luminous universe
I smile quietly
at this silken craven thought.
She of female colour
works a cherry path
tripping rainbow wind and flaunting a song,
the nightingale rapture…
A bountiful traveller, her bowl swimming,
a vagrant obstreperous kite.
This leonine hue, this invigorated sunrise, she is yolk.
Woman spills from her delicate fingers,
impolite yet forgiven as it falls.
She of 1000 clouds and velvet womb,
a mountain of compulsion.
a bolt of flesh silk
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
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
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.