Philosophy Through Photography a beautiful blog, you should check out, had invited me to participate in a three-day lyrics challenge… which i am completing in one day. Who doesn’t like music, right? so… i willingly, without so much as a struggle, played along and saved songs from neglect… and resurrected words, so good… healing to…
so i was tagged to participate in a 3-day lyrics challenge and thank you to Philosophy Through Photography for inviting. i am cheating on this challenge because i am posting day two, before day one is over. my reasoning is that i may not be here tomorrow… well, i maybe here on earth… but absent…
Not me. Probably will never be me… watch as i slip behind the curtain. But seriously, what is better than a dark, psychological thriller for 99 cents? Feeling good about supporting an author. So go purchase here and you can read more about Jennie Ensor here. Why are you still here? GO Splurge 99 cents…
wrote it now own the words “stinging nettles” popcorn, chips no escape writhing grapes glowing flames pardon me hold on wash away this grin funny spill easy swipe to wipe pain away hoping still you catch a wave to ride reach high brave sky then crash… burn hotter smoke longer grow stronger pardon me i…
i will be game… and play so thank you to Philosophy Through Photography Life is a series of riddles i propose to catch the color sphere children born of wild dreams this wasting time or is time wasting me away -again… (jeanne 9/19/2018) Lightning crashes a new mother cries Her placenta falls to the floor…
winding up to blow over everyone and everything that stands in my way… i sense no path -forward or backward isolated in a forest with overgrown fears closing in surrounding my feet i change my mind -escape and morph into another hiding once more an invisible ticket expired and worn barely readable the conductor puts…
i am spending a significant portion of my morning on social media because, well, i have been stimulated. Which basically means my brain is cooking up ideas and piling up future projects, while a myriad of unfinished projects patiently weep… waiting for me. “Off on another excursion, yet again! Are you?” my conscious is seething.…
some days my son is so much like his father i want to jump out the window i can leave the man but i cannot abandon the boy some days being a mom is so painful so challenging that i catch myself wishing i’d made different choices fantasizing about a life … — Finish the…
what? what is it you want from me? independence or support… are we family or strangers? what i expect is foreign to your ideals my power lost… or found as we wrestle in the tree’s shade despite the sun losing the battle my growing spirit, with limbs set against time what we have… is, peace…
i will stand on my own before i jump in and swim with the crowd convictions
