here is where we chirp, written lines known as tweeting- compressed ideas— Bill D. Johnston (@bedeejay) September 13, 2013
here is where we chirp, written lines known as tweeting- compressed ideas
She collected rainbows. She stored sunshine. She put moonlight away. She made stars into a crown. She drew picture clouds.
Went to the hall, talked Kingdom y’all through swapping yarns for we give a darn, then sang our songs.
Work defines the bee? Hives shoul… But entries belong on pages. Companies write mission memos. Souls pen living stages.
gentle breeze on the beach– sudden rain
The day the Earth stood still was one minute after the Great Sun of Truth arose. Ea… awakes!
The End will come too soon. Watch the land. Watch the seas Watch the skies for signs, for it… The End.
a furious air and neighborhood destruction– somebody’s lost pet
got my surfboard out and rode the photon waves: googled out!
Coffee perks in the pot. It heats to perfection. Come, we commune with our cups of coffee.
lowly paid pawns moved and sacrificed on the board– minimum wage slaves
Clouds sail a vast blue ocean, shapes shifting in that expansive Big Sky.
Burned flesh in the nostrils, napalm nightmare haunting the brain, destroys the rhythm of life.
Snow melts. Waterfalls streaming rivulets off roofs slake the thirsty ground.
I huffed my ego, by pouring me into it– She popped my balloon.
winter mirror mysterious prints at crosstime junction
