No more conflicts, no arguments to speak of anymore.
Slicing constantly into spheres of identity, providing accommodationsfor future destinations in harley heaven.
Inspiration abounding, climbing walls and blossominglike morning glories.Honeysuckle wine being poured through our minds andveins, awakening musical literature and art withwords of placid poetical texture and vibrant sound.So lovely, being met and enlivened without unduestress.A myriad of ideas and memories being made withextravagant thought and suicidal tendencies,delivering musical, artful poetry to those aroundthem at any…
Intending to play within my mind, imaginatively, and playfully, taking into consideration my total interest of rhythmical poetry as it flows from my pen and silently alights on paper.Soaring minds set free to enjoy whatever touches a freedom of subconsciousness.
Silently sorrowful every day, I fall into a cradle of death – one that I will soon succumb to.
Timely reminders that we are growing older with every moment, and are opening up to death’s doors.Not wanting to go through them filled with bushels of regrets to bog us down.Taking care to ask forgiveness and give acceptance to all those whose lives they’ve touched with malice, insincerity and lies.
world of grace.Thoughtfully ruminating over edges of existence,bringing them into focus for moments, hidden incoded verses, being written throughout time.Wistfully divining beauty of prose, lasting alifetime filled with sorrow’s tears, being capturedin many poems that owe their existence to my gifts.Innate talent resting within a heart of sorrowfulcompassion.