Billowing color for the cool devotion
Good evening or day for some,
Your sight is probably oozing splendor as you try to focus on these lines.
I’am right with you finding myself gasping on it’s murmuring orange with many sides of sighs.
Some life-testing events have patched my bones red brick buildings. Its structure metaphorically represents my children and their temporary absence crying me frantic narrowed often.
This venue and those of you that follow have been the widening of my vessels.
Without voice my stuffy chambered words would remain in journals and my color would never bark.
I bow with forehead humbled because all of you are immensely talented and undoubtedly enriching to my soul. Beckoning emotions with your stories thrilling my following endearingly captive.
Many thanks and hugs with mild kisses to all.
With Peace and love evermore.
P.S. – I do believe in a very small anonymous way that most of you hold hands and enjoy all of your personalities. If so promise me you will smile in full humor never boycotting your color from speaking.
Me and always Me
Anxiety paddles luxury
Perfunctorily displaying sanatoriums
Underfoot stemming violet sinks
Sinks censoring voices
Your madman joyful roar
Sanity friend composer
Where are you
Your terrible calming notes
Articulating this skeleton jazzed
Fatiguing my nights to dingle
Cornering my thunderbolt memories
Dearest friend without you
Silence serpents me surgeons pain
Scalpel clever dancer rejoicing at my feet
My blood tries persuading charm
Unselfish this distant journey why don’t you
See me see me clear
I love you still
Our beating ancient madness
Draws us to misconceptions
Summon trombones our lighted comforting fate
Dispelling and arranging our hearts to see us
Reciting continuity for the melancholic grieving monster is sadly my temporary ribbing fact. I suppose this is a trademark condition most of us possess and the beauty of a tomorrow in the rising reverse of our yesterdays.
The cure for this brew has surrendered with a couple of art shows in the City. Which of course require me to change my gears and act human. The level of consciousness between my friends and I are frightening, there is simply nobody home, no remote satellite connection, and to think they breed, and have or are having babies. Awful for saying this but so godly true. Tonight I will go against my Doctor theory and observe the calamity of other artists. Rejoice in their madness, before I turn into a pumpkin.
Goodnight to those who orbit my timed space, and good morning for those who have seem my tomorrow.
Peace . .