i have
dirty little secrets
tucked away
revolting
wanting air
unsatisfied
behind closed doors
words
no deeds
bored in here
waiting for fame
they clamor
climbing higher
shake me off!
and disappear
Tag: voice
not sleepy
Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.
Haven’t thought much lately. At least nothing too deep. It is 4:09 am. Our apartment is quiet. The apartment above us is quiet. No footsteps creaking or baby crying. The curry smells from next door are tamed. Our dinner dishes are washed and a week’s worth of work clothes are ready. Freshly pressed.
Some where, some one is moving. The force of life is being applied. Rightly? I hope so. We all hope so. Except the person with a gun in hand pays no attention to our wishes. An argument ensues. And words are bad but not good enough for the gun in hand. Words kill but bullets finish the job. No compromising, in that town. Not today. Not ever.
It is an hour before the sun rises. I am too far away from the Atlantic to look out the window and watch the sun appear. I take life for granted. The easy flow of air. I imagine the moon is the same. Thoughtless.
Songs on repeat…
Discovered The Avett Brothers with this song…
and now love sparkles through out
side streets not so lonely
which led to this song…
is your day starting
on a different note
with whiskey and rye
abandoned love
swirling ice
will senseless violence ensue?
a good day to listen to music
The Avett Brothers
instrumental to making this day grand! 🎶 🎵💜🕊
waiting
want me
mutable
losing you
the gurgling water
sucks your voice dry
cup the air
to my ear
no recollection of sound
too nice
to tell me -disappear
i don’t want you
to go either
desperate for seduction
a respite
from this monotone tapping
she’s only too eager
to please
winds around his pleasure
he slips through the softness
billows -down
in two
separated
conjoined minds
submissive and dominant
his whispers open her soul
magic when it happens
and neither can quit
the other
tremble
i’m scared
how easily i am swallowed
in your love
passing by
your eyes pierce skin
burned by rising sun
come togther in the morning … (another writer’s blog)
— Read on utahan15.wordpress.com/2018/05/19/28114/
This blog may not be to everyone’s sensibilities. Be ware the language as he opens the curtains to forbidden lands. A whispered prayer ascends to disinfect his world with sunshine. His raw feelings bend the light, colors remain while the audience stares in amazement. Perplexed grins in both directions.
i cause to wonder who spoke the world into existence? And on what day? Had i arrived to the party too late? Missed the cake and ice cream?
As life would have it, my heart melted and there was no cleaning up the mess.
Just some words from my heart. Thanks for the follow… and happy to follow back… j💜🕊🎶
collision course
Oh my. I think i said too much. I can be quite careless, sparked by passion. Lit by a struck match and ignited by fuel. Kaboom! I have definitely gone off in too many directions.
Without giving away every secret attraction, i best quit while ahead of myself… wait for my senses to catch up.
No worries though. i am rolling towards a cool breeze to sit near the waves. Settle this sizzle. i need to cool off. Lava easily burns. No need to hurt myself or others.
i will find my footing and self-discipline. Discover where i want this blog to go.
What life holds in the cradle of birth waits in the depths of dark…
J💜🕊🎶🎶🎶
sparks
you came
and burned out
Quick! i was
only too happy
now i
mope around
musing on over
She is not crazy. She is a Pisces.
Being a self-proclaimed writer/painter has its casualties. You become lost to foreign worlds and your only escape is reality.
So i have grown to know a few of my blog followers more intimately. And i am honored they have come into my life and shared tidbits of soul with me. And i have shared too. A tad bit.
I have never vigorously pursued horoscopes but recently a few people shared their signs and i must say i am captured. Scorpio and Pisces are my two favorite signs. And being a Pisces i relate to both of them well.
Love is an illusion, platonic friend. Stay a while and rumble through my head.
I have a series of these photos. I love looking at them for hours. Getting lost in the movement. The changing shapes mimic me, day by day. Often hour by hour. I can feel the caress as they wind their way past my eyes and settle where they may.
What do you see?
