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Only Icould bend, twist,and fold my thoughtsinto images literally concrete, or abstractalong the grains of paperstructured to becomememories of mealon..
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Do not become out of tunewith the steps of timelagging behindyou may not hearthe Pipe Piper whistling....now lostyou may end upin the wolf's lair.
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Between the confinedand the confused-a devilish summons.Death lieswhere bony digitsreach out clawing;the crypts of darknessshrouded in an underworldof..
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Archaeologists dig deepwithin shipwrecked mindsgathering sand,the tides of timeerase, awash in wavesbreaks on life's surfcaressing sunken memories-sti..
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Sharpened wordscut bluntlythe serrated messagepointed in viewslicedbut it was all over.Rock, paper, scissors!
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Stepped into a puddle
turned out to be a pool,
the pool became a lake
inturn became a sea
that turned into an ocean
the ocean became a galaxy
in..
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An unsung hero
know one knew his name,
No one knew where he came from.
In closing the song
remained the same.
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Get off your high horse! They shouted.
So he did.
Ten stories below,
he laid dead.
It was a Trojan horse.
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He was alwaysthe caterpillarnever the butterflyuntil....one dayhe became a moth.He found his light.
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Life is
a dance rehearsal
you got to learn
your steps.
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