i wish i’d written this myself but i appreciate it nevertheless

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Question for this friday: Are you a person of independent substance or just the substance of another’s self obsessed Β reflection?…

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In This World, Part of It


 and churning ashes;

resolute in turns both tragic

   and beleaguered-

cowards bleed.

Blind mandela,

starving seeker.

Wheels that grind

but lead nowhere-

Navigate your ragged circle,

all alone without a spare.

Clouds clap loud,

but growing weaker;

sleep supine on dusty wings-

moths that rise

while August lingers,

sweeter dreams

of bitter things,

wasted breath and foolish notions,

thrice believed

 but twice betrayed.

Spinning lost in aimless motion

gathered threads soon break and fray-

Weaving on a loom that’s broken,

pauper’s shrouds for empty graves.

All those things you dare not covet-

beg to leave, 

forced to remain.

Don’t forget your Mother’s promise:

  “You, my love, are in this world-

   Do not believe you’re not part of it.”

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i’ve learned a valuable lesson these past couple months; that even mild-mannered and unassuming shadows can have savage teeth with deadly venom…

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A unique and flawless diamond requires an equally unique and flawless setting…so i suggest you choose yours wisely.

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If i am far too much for you, it is equally likely you are far too little for me…

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Morons in the White House: separated at birth…

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OK-OK…enuff of the Armageddon “antisssssss-ipation”…on this nearly- spring occasion, we offer rare blooms and babies..& NO– IM NOT GETTING SOFT!!!πŸ₯ŠπŸ₯ŠπŸ€ βœŠπŸ½βœŠπŸ½βœŠπŸ½πŸ–•πŸΌπŸ–•πŸΌπŸ–•πŸΌπŸ˜ΉπŸ˜ΉπŸ˜ΉπŸ˜Ήβ˜ οΈπŸ’€πŸ™€πŸ€”πŸ€”πŸ˜Ž

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Shallow dancer

Burning ashes,

tissue flower-

wasted days breed brittle hours.

Empty thoughts, 

explaining nothing-

False and fatal,

useless, numbing.

Listen to this shallow dancer,

Wanting two-

this poor romancer.

Why chase words

with idle logic-

find your fool

then pick their pockets.

Redress every wrong and doubt-

 this stream that crushed the singing trout.

Another silly circumstance you’ve made,

a regal queen becomes a maid.

Now strangle on her silver braid;

and never feel remorse 

  nor shame

for withered limbs that have no name.

To ascertain,

the meaning clear,

through salty stinging

  angry tears;

this smoke dispersed 

  by light of day-

Decryption is my stock in trade.

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Here’s one of trump’s lil cowardly sheep..his constituents are looking for him…and they are not happy campers. Yup, they rented a billboard to track him down and placed an ad in “lost and found” on “Craig’s list.” He’s apparently hiding out…chicken shit bastard..

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