(2013)
here is where we chirp, written lines known as tweeting- compressed ideas— Bill D. Johnston (@bedeejay) ...
Snow melts. Waterfalls streaming rivulets off roofs slake the thirsty ground.
haiku are headlines reporting mother nature the insight stories
Pick up those cups. Embrace those days full of flavors. Savor every single drop. Drink up.
He pretends to be a hard boiled eg… He actually has a soft yolk. Sometimes, when he acts tough, he is secretly fluid. If you get to know him, he removes
Once we had a happy planet with apogees and perigees.
Burned flesh in the nostrils, napalm nightmare haunting the brain, destroys the rhythm of life.
Coffee perks in the pot. It heats to perfection. Come, we commune with our cups of coffee.
Work defines the bee? Hives shoul… But entries belong on pages. Companies write mission memos. Souls pen living stages.
Went to the hall, talked Kingdom y’all through swapping yarns for we give a darn, then sang our songs.
a furious air and neighborhood destruction– somebody’s lost pet
end of long trip around the solar system– finished the book
lowly paid pawns moved and sacrificed on the board– minimum wage slaves
I want to plan and to defer to my future. But, I dream and am caught by my desire.
dropplets, dropping down, sinking slowly in soil are Mother’s helpers.
