it’s a still monday morning a yellow bellied sapsucker gently plucks from the bird feeder in the tree that hangs over the deck
She feel’s like she can’t get clos… So far away, even when they touch. He blocks her out as if he’s afrai… Afraid of what? She wondered ofte… He stays so cold, as if trying to…
Bicardi Gold Puerto Rican Rum A taste all of its own Is what i crave tonight. I let the liquor slide slowly As it burns my throat
the smooth black and white picture… no color or remorse but only walking alone beside the… you kissed my lips saying it’s going to be okay
Half of me is what you see, While the other half is unknown to… Who are you to be judging me? If I don’t even know who I am or… So how do you think you know me,
Us So you wanted to make yourself loo… but at the expense of a friend? Maybe honesty isn’t the best, all this is now hard to mend.
they see the surface only the base… endless taunts that forever haunt… my name is a frown and they endles… one that could light up a mile but…
One day I’ll live in France go to a ball and learn how to danc… Go make a home and call Paris my own I’ll make my life exciting
I woke up this morning thinking of you reached for your warmth as I always would do. Your side of the bed
Come hither, who grow cloyed to su… With lyric draughts o’ersweet, fro… On Hybla not Parnassus mountain:… With beakers rinsed of the dulcifl… Hither, and see a magic miracle
If I were the wheel of a car and… Would that make me any different t… Would I ever be able to stop feel… Why would anyone want to stop hear… Questions upon questions always se…
Birds, joyous birds of the wanderi… Whence is it ye come with the flow… –"We come from the shores of the g… From the land where the roses of… From the palms that wave thro’ the…
By Stanley Collymore At the age of one year old althoug… birthday is significantly importan… only to the recipient of that spec… honour but correspondingly too,
passejant el naixement dels meus cabells amb els teus projectes, ens habitàvem en la música de les esferes tot era un miratge del poema que som, vaig aprendre a assaborir-me, a viure’m ...
Wild is the foaming Sea! The surg… And nimbly dart the livid lightnin… On the rent rock the angry waves r… Ah me! the less’ning bark is seen… Along the margin of the trembling…
If a dream could come to life I w… If a nightmare really happened I… If love really existed I would em… If the rain stopped I would dance… If my heart would never break I w…
Outside my window the wasps are making their slow circle, dizzy flights of forage and return… hovering among azaleas that bob in a sluggish breeze
By Stanley Collymore I wanted to paint a rainbow in the… however, as a warning sign of incl… weather or the after-effects of su… but simply as an expression my
1/5/14 I am not the thoughts I have, I am not the fits I throw, I am not the times I snap, I am not cold hearted
I stand at the door waiting for him to walk in I know he’ll take
As I lay here in my head. You fac… The feeling of you within me takes… The only thing I want to do is ge… Its utterly intoxicating The way you are you.
I used to day dream all the time Of dying In place of someone else Because maybe Just maybe
Summer Sunshine in the morning, Summer Sunshine Yellow and bright… Golden rays of wonderful sunshine, In the early morning light. Summer Sunshine in an afternoon,
I walk, My feet bare, on the cold wet pavement. I walk slowly so I do not slip, I walk slowly for I have not eaten in days. I feel like falling down, Giving up. But still I push myself,...
Are the dreams the needle that weaves my thoughts nocturnally? Let me listen to the moon clear my mind
I’ve met choices with dim decision… The moment was rash, but the conse… These mistakes have followed me as… The bottles and blunts now set asi… As soon as the lead and tree’s off…
How slight a thing may set one’s f… Upon the dead sea of the Past!—A… Sometimes an odor—or a rooster lif… A far-off ‘OOH! OOH-OOH!’ And suddenly we find ourselves ast…
my feathers are no longer beautifu… they are weathered from the cold and so is my soul this place is no longer habitable… migration is the only cure
By Stanley Collymore I won’t ever dream of nor will I… in time either unprofessionally or… damagingly and quite evidently too… myself to be coercively, self-serv…
The raindrops plunge, continuously… Like so many beads of sorrow. Their hurried path is never stalli… Reminding me of a lost tomorrow. Ever flooding,