The WriterThe writer looks out his frosty pane to the streets below.The Writer
All is sacred, all is white, all awash with snow.
He furrows his brow, and lets out a yawn, hoping, just wishing, and waiting for dawn.
For in the sun he hopes to find, the lover waiting in his mind.
Two green eyes that sparkle like gems, as he gazes beyond the river Thames.
A mane of hair, dark as night, as he glares beyond the light.
A slender face, full of peace, as he glances to the East.
In a flowing dress of blue, the sun's dawn breaks its glowing hue. &
Love Poem for the Not YetI haven't met you yet, but I think of you all the time. I hear your laugh years from now, or even weeks maybe. I see your smile,Love Poem for the Not Yet
grinning at a little joke. I feel your warmth, curled up next to me. We would have met, at some place unexpectedly. Something would have given you away. A ghostbusters t-shirt, a witty comment, something we'd have in common. One thing would lead to another, and we'd be here. Watching some movie, maybe a Disney one, and we'd scoot closer during the lo
The RockerTo those who are about to rock,The Rocker
Why do we salute you?
Your black jacket, tanned with sweat and liquor? Your acid-red jeans, patched and torn.
Do we honor your stringy hair, your sunken purple eyes, your smoke curled lips?
What are we worshiping when we salute you? Sex? Drugs? Evil itself?
No. We do no such thing. We honor Rock.
We honor Liberty, a Pursuit, and Happiness away from the world,
if only for just one night.
You give us this, in a grimy vinyl wrapper.
In a wailing voice, a moaning organ,
The Train I Ride Ch 1Rain was pelting the windows of the train with icy crackles. HeThe Train I Ride Ch 1
leaned up closer to her huddled form in his brown wool coal trying
to keep her warm. She gratefully sighed under a mop of dirty red
hair and scooted nearer to him. Her scarf made his nose twitch, but
he held her through it.
The train itself was caked with snow and the journey was
going to last all day, all the way to the mountains and the lodge. All
he and she could do was wait until the breakfast cart came around
or until the sun rose to warm them. Before the breakfast cart, the
sun did rise, but seemingly only
College is a verb.
Peaceful
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luft! luft! mir erstickt das herz
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I am enthralled with the beauty of nature, but repulsed by the nature of beauty.
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Boo ... Are You Scared Yet?
- D
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I am enthralled with the beauty of nature, but repulsed by the nature of beauty.
- D
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I am enthralled with the beauty of nature, but repulsed by the nature of beauty.
[link]
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I am everything and nothing at the same time.
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curious? [link]
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"The genius of Einstein leads to Hiroshima."
Pablo Picasso
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