There
is a flow
to nourish
the bones of my story
Her singing bowls have just
begun a morning’s ring…
There
is a flow
to nourish
the bones of my story
Her singing bowls have just
begun a morning’s ring…
while the wall close in
no waters to pour in my cup
not God or man can change
the hurting tongues
No smoke No fire:
I don’t know where the sea joined me,but the sea had come.I noticed along every path,through tunnels and useful roads the trees were meaner. Their presence just like me giggled at the chance to see single drops pouring sideways .I stood there in foggy bushes,evergreens and hogweeds.The trees danced with swirls, I tried to mimic. Pillowing further into my thoughts, rushing to steam off such bias helpings, the trees .
As if to say, remember the void. Nothingness ,thee great gulf that separated the waters. That holy occurrence, that made heaven real and called light day.Upon this firmament- rested during the night and breathed into man’s nostrils. To make the first souls.Or else, Noah would return – preach good tidings once more. Earth would be destroyed. Instead of holy water he’d bring the hurricane -the ocean and all its power. Elated into joy, there was no more need of one pitiful suicide but all of us could die together.
I have taken time off to finish a fictional Novel I’d started. I am learning so much about life and myself as I attempt to edit and rewrite 147 pages.Yes I am a newbie when it comes to writing books. I am enjoying the ride.Any editing tips would be gratefully appreciated .
If you like what you have read, please consider making a donation in any amount in order to build a better website and reach Visionariekindness goals…
Five buckets of love
Above Ash Place street
Spirits,on the floor, laughing , such a soothing fall.
Her wig fell straight into the offering plate ,
all because her fix was twisted
I pulled the joker’s card and did me no good
I attended Church @ Bedside Baptist
Farting on oak wood,
while the people praise the Lord…
An old woman sneered said “you ought to be a shame!”
I guess I couldn’t help it!!!
Our spirits groan deep within.
Yearning for each mountain to climb.
A subtle gaze to look upon,
ancient-land.
The wooden staff ,
healing-breeze
For when the mountain calls you- go
Go-home to the “burning tree”
and listen closely,
the mountain speaks.
She had crumbled before
throwing hands right above the stippled light.
This time, her eyes were squared
distilling the faintest of frozen dust.
Her thirst was cleaver
anticipating her stage
She could really take flight.
Just,
Tonight.
Give it all you got!
Even if it is just another bust,
Exhale
No greater Gulf between hell and I
Perhaps the rupturing twilight
could speak
For I never saw a man with holes in both hands and still be alive
Betrayed for pennies of fear
Ah-that Christ must die
watching the dust
settle, under seeds that
refuse to do any thinking of growing
For I never saw a man on fire and not be turned to ash
weakened by devicely
pleasures,
the serpents’ crawl
bitten with just one kiss
I pray to understand
these wages of sin has given dollars of death that do not spend
Upheaving Justice, that suppose our souls, wern’t worth the saving!
Here I am -again,
if we can’t overcome
and we can’t ever overstand,
Then what’s a man gotta do to get a little water his thirst!
For I never saw a man whose only kingdom was the cross
Some men have it all, some are lost,
some earn their freedom, and others shout crucify ,crucify
For I never saw a man,forgive like this
Filtered and pushing into the dark abyss
Great drops of blood ,
if only this, cup could pass, then earth would shake with witnesses beyond the mass
No greater gulf between Hell and I
For I never saw a man with holes in both his hands and still be alive…
Discovering the joy of art
Life is an interesting journey. These are journals, stories, reflections of a traveller of this journey. (songoftheheartsite@gmail.com)
Looking for the unique and quintessential in a location.
Traveling the world with birds by my side.
Les mots, le mouvement conscient, la vie et l'invisible inexploré...
L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
日記、エッセイ、ポエム、散歩、サッカー観戦
I am more than breath & bones.
Donde el cambio es posible, autoconocimiento y aprendizaje a través del movimiento
Life Lessons, Books, and Pretty Things!
Bridging the gap between mere existence and true life.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
Espaço poético, rotineiro e alternativo
poetry, audio poems, poetic prose, and photography
Purpose Is The Key To Creation Manifested Through Vision!
Pensamientos Libres
My Thoughts My Prayers My World
A little something for you.
Hope isn't an emotion, but a daily choice.
Make it happen.
In My Dreams I reached out and touched reality!
Joy Murray
Where All Things Film Converge
words on paper
Arts resource, sketches and drawings classified by subject
Me, my scribbles and my ego
Two steps more to inferno...
Second Hand Books
Learning Culture by Traveling
Jesus-Yeshua Saves!!
~melanie ever moore: indie author & indie book blogger ~
Top psychic online chat
ПОЭТ КАФЕ: онлайн-проект Алексея Марковича (писатель, переводчик, режиссёр)
Let's recollect our emotions in tranquillity
Health - Self Development
Providing Propelling Encouragement Despite the Clear Presence of Obstacles
Exploring the World of Fiction
portraits & figures by an older woman artist, with blue collar roots
Poetry for Finding Meaning in the Madness
Wanted was a friend ...
The simplicity of life is just being yourself.”