Soaring
Tomorrow will I soar into the arms of death? Sailing high above in her embrace Flashing over dreamlike memories of
Month: March 2017
Dogs of March
These dogs bound off to lead my way As drops of moonlight glisten still Eagerly we dash in quest to
Suffering Fools
What a waste is a fool with power desperate for a thought The bite of fools’ sound bites foolish notes
Flakes
We are all the same? All the colors disagree. So paint me with them. Tell me if you see A
I Mean, Really?
some orange creature
Dearest Mother
Negotiating Life, Exquisitely perverse. Ask a butterfly. Wiped away our tears, Choking back words of cotton Holding hands with mom.
Good Morning to Ya
Good morning to ya, fine, fine day Say what, it’s after noon you say? Just join me please, Inhale the
IX.
Now my nerves have numbed Done in by days’ decay Monotony to which I have succumbed Picked my pockets all
nameless
Warriors sacrifice Standing ovation betrays Wife and kids’ dead pa.
Consulting Gueras
Taking what she craves, leaving just a haze of graves