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Random Ramblings

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posted on Nov, 24 2011 @ 01:28 PM
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reply to post by whaaa
 



so - now I'm talking to shadows....

it's still a better conversation than most :-)

come back as soon as you can my friend

have I done
what karma
demands?
If I am a fool
I may never
know.

whaaa - how much do I love that?

well - was waiting to answer this one - I guess I waited too long

_______________________

mud's art
wears thinking clay

god's voice in the rain
all the same

birds follow the fence-line of heaven

not here, not there

singing




posted on Nov, 24 2011 @ 01:44 PM
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reply to post by The Motorcycle Boy
 


bowl of candles
for my crown
burn all of heaven
to the ground
ashes to ashes
light to light
give us back
to Starry Night

_____________

hey MB - nice to see you

would love to say the gang's all here - but it's not



posted on Dec, 5 2011 @ 10:42 AM
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reply to post by Spiramirabilis
 


HI Spira. Nice to see you as well!



posted on Aug, 20 2012 @ 08:27 PM
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I too was born
of the muse, the iconoclast
I followed
The old road.
I climbed and stumbled
regardless of contour,
I have begun
my freedom...
and it hurts.



posted on Oct, 14 2012 @ 01:04 PM
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reply to post by olaru12
 


are we supposed to stop?
wait for the sounds of maybe
and maybe sounds will come
wandering like dogs
old strays and recent joiners
from homes just gone
the day before

are we supposed to wait
to see what happens?

the dogs are hungry now

sounds like low blue thunder
just over the hill

how does our sky hold
such a strange noise?

no maybes



posted on Oct, 15 2012 @ 08:04 PM
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reply to post by Spiramirabilis
 


Why don't they stop
throwing symbols?
The air is cluttered
with echos,
of the small boy that
I was,
of the smell of the highway
when I was 17,
of the nights without sleep,
of the red hair of Judy,
of the rain this November.



posted on Jul, 8 2014 @ 10:20 PM
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Suggest a title...

I went off in the desert
alone and heard a voice.
of erosion and vile
resuscitations
unsinging between us
torrential slavery
of the limbs
And the Dreaming

metaphors
the old priest
reached for my hand
we touched, powerful
as we floated to
the horizon and
saw the letters of silence.



posted on Jul, 10 2014 @ 01:01 PM
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a reply to: olaru12

Jesus Meets The Songwriter For Reals

*

Nuns on a ridge
Habits form anew
Son rises Son sets
Sister soldiers guarding sin
Foreign children not let in







edit on 7/10/2014 by Spiramirabilis because: T



posted on Jul, 10 2014 @ 01:18 PM
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a reply to: Spiramirabilis

A fresh Resurrection of madness
How I love the poetess
like the stars over
The Sangre de Cristos
that they may look
on Earth
and not be ashamed.



posted on Jul, 13 2014 @ 02:01 PM
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a reply to: olaru12

La poeta o una llorona...
Blood of Christ is a ruby sky
Wrapped soft around that short sweet spine
Hills will call the dance for light
Those billion things will wash us clean






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