Went to the hall, talked Kingdom y’all through swapping yarns for we give a darn, then sang our songs.

Monsters under our beds are phantoms in our heads. Gurus shout such ghosts at our ear… and fears.

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

here is where we chirp, written lines known as tweeting- compressed ideas— Bill D. Johnston (@bedeejay) ...

lowly paid pawns moved and sacrificed on the board– minimum wage slaves

dropplets, dropping down, sinking slowly in soil are Mother’s helpers.

Pick up those cups. Embrace those days full of flavors. Savor every single drop. Drink up.

a furious air and neighborhood destruction– somebody’s lost pet

Once we had a happy planet with apogees and perigees.

Broken by the vampires who suck life from souls with minimums that keep tires spinning in muck.

I huffed my ego, by pouring me into it– She popped my balloon.

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.

I went to Coin Lent to get some money pumped. But all my cash I spent, and all my cred was dumped.