Lounging alongside visions, watching as they continually pass
by on inner screens, allowing the freedom to choose what I want
to select and write about.
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Against the wall of recognition, officers’ pictures are hung in respectful places, carrying their memories with great dignity.
Protecting us all from the evils that befall life, yet they fall at the hands of evil human beings.Leaving their own families to the protection of officers who are still living and following the codes of compassion and caring.
In tempo with music, playing piano in my mind, forging many happy notes to be played faster and faster into quicker time.
For betterment of intellect, it rushes quickly and penetratingly onto the dance floor of my mind.Giving me thoughts to supplicate the many ideas surging forward.Taking all of creative assertiveness and laying it on the table.
Triangular squares taking shape, forming in my mind.
memory’s unconscious paths of rightful thinking.Contrary to pillars of strength, all eyes fall instead,upon the weakest, least of all, manner of being.Waving red and silent beacons to passers-by, steeringthem away, never letting anything close enough to matter.Piloting music down strains of unfamiliar tunes, catchingetudes at triangular moments in time, while maintainingthe single square rootedness of…
Registering respect in many rhythms and poetical melodies,
the distance of my mind.Taking revolutions of every day cycles into depths ofme with it’s undertow.Realities stretching across many miles as mirrored thoughtsare seen like an era of images.Concentrating closely on details offered from every angleand facet of divided landscapes.Piling on acres of cut diamond sentences, dragging wordsalong as melodies offer themselves as sacrifices forunknown…
Watching rhythms melt into my mind and soul, taking them gently into their tender care.
All of life escapes through these beautiful rhythms as I breathe in all of their wonderful aromas.
Crushed beneath the weight of creativity, enjoying it’s magnitude, playing with my imagination, carefully preserving every second of it in glory.
Sliding across the sky, no voice to interpret clamoring words and thoughts into poetry.Silently being chosen and gathered into many lines of written words, poems are collected into tomes.Unaware of the world, too busy interiorly to notice anything going on.Hiding behind golden and orange clouds at dusk, I peacefully follow paths of my own creativity.