The Permeation Spilling into the empty silence as… On its wild journey into spaces un… It leaps over hills and valleys Then settles into the pits of the…
My sweet wonderful work hails me from my slumbering hours. To me it is like a beautiful wife in need of me to be at her side. It stirs my passion where that is the only place I would ...
Way down under the sea where Davy Jones’s locker lies or one fathom down from the roof of the water’s house where the crab boats sail
That blast from that big gigantic… Those words that drive the birds d… Flipping the universe on its petri… Those words that fly out of her he… That bark that sends the wild bull…
Crispy azure firmament, visions of… of clarity, of ecstatic dreams, of… of mythical cathedrals suspended i… beatitudes for the quixotic eyes, floating gardens of copious blue r…
Arms extended into summer’s lair Holding onto the warm tropical air… As autumn looms over the fruited p… So soon the snow will replace the… So soon the heated arms will give…
Zakazakarak went to back to the tr… Back to the rack at the fat black… Mack and Jack fell through the cr… Woopsy do in the morning night Off to the black pink cloud away
Stravinsky’s “The Rite of Spring… and watches my prosaic thoughts un… slowly slipping away like winter’s… like a song of joy to its reluctan… A fanfare with adherent arms that…
Love chains of a claimer’s needs are a sign that love still has a h… even though it doesn’t. Claimers try to force love to run the desired path even though it ca…
In the quiet of Mother Nature, In her bosom a complacent lullaby, A song that tames the passion, An air that dissolves the run of p… A lullaby to sleep of all anxiety,
Money, jets, speedsters, race cars… Fingers blazing, riffs, guitars, Tornados, hurricanes, angry storms… With piccolos screeching and waili… Restless clouds, racing ‘cross the…
Alas the damage of the withering f… as witnessed by the sentinels of t… calls for sympathetic tears to swe… as the pleas of the flowers rise u… April flowers are in peril as the…
Outside Poemland where the air is cold, the trees are trees and the words are words. Inside Poemland
Clouds change from the rising sun into the sunset from their day on… and colors bleed into colors like chameleons just like their sh… Nature’s a painter with an iridesc…
We are ourselves a warehouse stocked up with an accumulation of wealth and knowledge. If we use that wisdom to discern who is worthy of receiving our assets, we will make use of our wa...