Poetry
"The slipp'ry slope to Hell is paved Without the goad of horn-ed beasts But good intents of northern states And hedonistic western heat." Then south, they gathered, to cling tight To morals strict and deeply held So precious seemed their pride's delight Entrusted to
Poetry
Build a fort Defend the flag You're "it" The ties that bind to a tree let swing The scent of autumn fall fall falling then gathered Embrace us and crushed The scent of change Rolling wheels never stick to hot tar The coolness of a passing
Poetry
Survival mechanisms keep me awake to see the intruder before he sees me. Until the sleep takes me away or did I forget to breathe? To continue the struggle, the fight to be, being and breathing, a reason to live. Awake one day at a time. Precious hours of light
Poetry
Adorned in locks of dull green Her ringlets don't' bounce, but sway. Interwoven cascades suspended in time A lifeline descending to all who stay. Atop trees she sits; I sleepily watch her dance. Her yoke is easy, her burden light, Iberian wanderer clings, holds fast. If you&
Poetry
A day to burn with the restless crowds. Across the griddle with a sizzle and wandering sands. It slips, falls, into our clothes, hair, and mouths. A day to burn with the restless crowds. Boogie on and ride the crests, else wear Neptune's shroud. Over in a flash,