Primarily for poetry and illustrations. Thursday, March 8, 2018. A 55 for JAJ after a long absence. Piano-forte, does it matter? And the keys push back. The keys hold the power. In the center lies the music, that sweet spot - freedom. 169; Gay Reiser Cannnon - 3-8-18. Monday, April 10, 2017. When Time Stops and Nothing Breathes. Near the fence, as the. Tuesday, April 5, 2016.

Saturday, February 3, 2018. Circus, Budapest, 19 May 1920 Andre Kersetz. Brought to us by Kerry. What we see depends mainly on what we look for. You may be quiet in halls.

This Blog is Now Dead. Like all things this blog has ran its course, but I am revamping the pieces I liked and writing new material over on my new blog- Cybernetic Tongues Tasting Babel. I hope everyone of my followers will start following that blog. Thanks for your continued love. Containers of Time and The Death of a Blog. Poetry can be a dead end, but if it speaks of eternity and love in words.

This, that and the other thing. Looking at life through writing and photography. Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Join 2,040 other followers.

Friday, May 15, 2015. I am afraid of tears. Afraid that they have no end, once started. That i choose to ignore. Finding their way into the wash. I thought wired into place. I am feeling the loneliness of the old. I think it has to do with more pain and less sleep lately.

Friday, July 24, 2015. These last few months have really just worn me out. So, my soul needs time to recuperate. See you all in a little over a month.

Friday, August 29, 2014. We are very good friends and she is not there. Not any time soon she has in actual fact care. Not wanting to go there your edges to rough. Rough heart has to be more than close so rare. Someday soon she may learn some reactions. Pas sions a wake for her with one as urbane. Urbane haunt still lives in her like damn bastions. Your speech, your hobby, foreign as can be. Lexes cut the heart of One Dearheart can see.

Afraid to trust, turtle abandons shell. Sunday, February 1, 2015. For eons behind the VEIL. Find a way to write. A poem that owns no words. The capitalized words in the poem are, of course, anagrams of one another. Did you know that parliament.

Saturday, November 15, 2014. Rises and shines brightly in this life. Eases life and no emotions of strife. Giving of heart, is a little like knife. Paranoia stirs, over a clock of rife! Bathing in loving affections demure. Soothing skin massages very pure. Slow and fast kissing a lot for sure. Cold rooms pets a real bachelor. Friends for years soothing distress. Profile seem to be stone, caress. Timing is nothing new apparently.