I don’t really write poetry. Just past dreams, future thoughts, affirmations of presence; memories of today created in each moment.
I don’t really write poetry. Just past dreams, future thoughts, affirmations of presence; memories of today created in each moment.
All our perception of Bad really is is just Good, misunderstood.
You make my head hurt – every time you’re close my mind travels to lives of past vibrance we once created. You’re different there; So was I – but our soul flames always knew how to find their twins in each other… You don’t like eloquence and poetry or prose; And I’m prone to thinking …
Sparkly nails and coffee cups, a rumpled comforter, sunlight on my bare skin… Today feels like fuzzy socks and comfort food and not leaving my bed. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll make it in today…
I am not okay… …but I guess I’ve wanted to be for so long that I pretended I was. I function. And often, I’m even happy; Smiles, rare conversation – y’know…pleasantries. But when I look at my life, I realize how many of the things I own first belonged to someone else’s collection – of …
A cat ponders,
with eyes squinted sagely,
and daintily tucked-under paw;
curled tail,
and inquisitive ears,
how Sol came to be
and also is
and just briefly wonders
why he is too.
Then he naps.
your mind is my oasis; an uncertain paradise, a respite… from the world and all its confusion. your arms my haven, within them I find peace, strength. calm in my calamity, you soothe the aches in my heart – heal the cracks in my soul. baby, can we just… lay here? can we… find the …
True wealth is the wealth of the soul
Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
A collective of thoughts, poetry, writing works, blurbs, and other randomosity
BUZZWEED QUIZZES
Art Studio Dumfriesshire
Kayfucius 