Paradise of Thought Revelations, the culmination of dr… The unfamiliar to the familiar one The familiar to the conceptual one The launching pad for the abstract…
“Off we go me mates after the boat’s loaded up, the pods are loaded and secured, and the bait is on. Then we are ready to shove off. I heard there’s a storm brewing, so it’s not going t...
M-m-m-m-m air of sweet, sweet heav… As Auntie Sweetooth ‘til half pas… Swings with the squirrels and drun… Breaking up the day into halves an… Home of the chocolate paradise of…
Faces They attract with their beauty They draw attention to the surface They bring life to the lifeless They control prejudgment
She laughed with her friends, but only a half hearted laugh. The other half was in control of her emotions for fear of exposing her inner self, that joyful or sad self that suffers fro...
“Hmm,” thought I. “I pressed the button on the phone called the (balabala) button. It says that it might cause a fire…
Secrets stored inside as the seaso… a silent knowing of the roving sun… encased in an armor of iron and wo… in rigid vaults to the weather wit… secrets of the rising from low to…
Venom lady of black and red, of lips of wine and feet of roses, walking across the waters in slender ankles and shiny gams, of prominent undulations
Sensitivity is like a fountain of… A journey into the depths of passi… A look into the thrill of living, A daunting ride without a driver, A curious look into the darkness,
Richest witches flying high in Lamborghinis and see through bi… no brooms, balloons, nor sober bab… it’s party party in the skyward la… Music blasting and strobe lights f…
Those conniving spirits that hover above me when I write are up to no good again. They don’t want me to be funny. They conspire amongst their stupid selves to see how they can sabotage ...
The Gap Young and old grow further apart Life was grand then so we depart Into days of memories so forgotten Of brotherhood and its love begott…
Verbal eyes, emissaries of the tru… sagacious couriers with fleeted fo… dedicated to the spontaneous transfer of truth, the looking deep inside the heart
Of your artistic shapes and moods, pictorial playground of the azure… lofted oceans and soft white waves… home of dreams and imagination, where riders ride on white stallio…
Dear God. As my heavy heart led me through the 624 acre cemetery last Memorial Day, I couldn’t help but think about all the heroes that you created that were willing to die for me just...