summer’s tender scent, intense,
dispersed; no mercy; beauty, blind…
perfect petals torn by scorn,
where will weather cast your care?
soon there, new year’s bud be born;
pray the maid’s rose bless the year
Similar Posts
You, Lord, are the pride
You are the fallI am the fall guyYou are regretYou are humilityYou come before
We are born, live, and die.
Where’s my ink-block?[with respectful acknowledgements to Vita Brevis and Art Longer ]
It was a late, late night;
primitive urges which peoplemight never have suspected of youdemanding to be slaked,and slaked and slaked and slaked againcopulation andpopulation meetingmore than once in waysno way related toplanned parenthoodbut that’s already inthe distant past – the nightsare your own; the daybelongs to others;it’s morning now; you openan eye or two; stretchluxuriously without a hintof shame; thena…
My Fellow Americans:
we are committed to the spread of the freedomsof democracy throughout the worldregardless of the cost,to fightso that peace may prevaillike oil on troubled waters. Howeverthe forces of evil are insidious andin order to resist them we mustbe vigilant to root out the perniciousforces of evil that are attackingthe very roots ofour own democracy. In…
The staff behind the bar
in their language you don’t understandstare blatantly at youas if you are a travelling zoo –that’s their perks; that and the oddpick-up; why else should they work here?The waiterstake the orders, lay the plateswith silent scorn, concealed disdain– and, perhaps, a hint of compassion?no, I think not.. how, they seem to wonder,could any foreigner be…
To be is to love.
Roll these life sentencesaround the spacewhere your thoughts werenow pretend you never read this.just be;pretend you never read this.*[from a thought by Mira]