Theirs is a strange art, the weaving of Air and sound into a weightless tapestry hanging in the church, a
The premise of my newest poetic piece reaches out to a woman suffering from bipolar disease she grows ill
gravity homeboy got capped in the knee out in the streets let the truth be told where as years ago with
see me through the seaweed torn muck of the oceanic plains see me throught the plight of common
radiate for one to equate those pillars of linguistic form meditate on the common place make no mistake
there was a day Meg went away she was hospitalized with Bipolar their she gazed through the window alone
Trying something different as a poet learning to use my senses in light of all that Iv'e written in the
A challenge to be free is a question of time. My soul permeates the very fabric of my existence A beacon
Ever so often you come across a composition that leads one to take flight. In the distance their are
I humbly bow the knee to pray whispers among the chosen leaves a love to behold a newer way to explore
got rhymes that rap got rhymes that reel some may say it’s no big deal like a human shield we come
Hello all! @wolfychu has given me the green light to move a poem of theirs to this forum from a regular
you could burn me at the stake use me as a dish rag so I write on the topic of pee my critics disagree
from the time you were born to the present God was watching you each new day brings about different
desperate times leads to desperate measures wth whom do you treasure we mix words in the street still