Thousands of doors are going
To open Today
After a Long Day
Of Sultry Dark
Slowly moving Clouds
But what it is!
As if the speed of the wind more than
A Hurricane

Extreme sound Rocking the Sky,
The Home
And the Expanding
Barren Field,  
Repeatedly being Thunder Around
As far as I can See
Across the Horizon
The Rain has come down
As Cats and Dogs
 
Dim Light in the Room
Hope, despair shaken
Windows Open
Southern waves
Randomize the Poetry Books
Flying Pages,
Never before or after in the

The Scent of the Poetry
In the Air
Sky-word Sentences
I have seen my Reflection
In the Light of the Short
The past Knocking
On the Closed Door
To open the Wide Sky

You have sat down
In the Horizon
That has reminded
The First Love Poem
Where I read
And planted my Dreams
Bringing the garden
Roses,
Marigold,
Sunflowers

Where there the moonlit
Of moonlight has
Crafted the Dreams  
Like an Imagination
As if,
Unclogging Peacock's Feather

But the sudden wind  
Increasing the Velocity
Light has been Extinguished
Yet the Flame Alive
But don't see my Reflection,
In the distant Glass,
In the Poetry,
In the Words

In an Angular way,
Through the Windows
Rain coming into the Limelight
Put away the Poetry
And the Dreams
As the Books of Poetry has Seemed
Like the Stones

But Yet I'm waiting,
For The Next morning
Where the Hope will Come Again
In the Shining Smile of Light

~~《♡》~~

may your penship be worthy
may your heart be bold
may the parchment that beckons
be edged with pure gold.

may your sails be caught
by a breeze off the sea
may the coasts where you sail
be nations free.

may your mast be lofty
a pen full of might
may your skies be scarlet
only at night

may your stars be bright
as you sail where you will
may ink flow like a river
from an angel's quill.

may dimensions make music
may your muse scream
may you dream your life

may you live your dream.

~~《♡》~~

soulsurvivor
2/3/2015

I don't have a problem with
hipsters, goths, jocks,
skaters, rockers, preps,
farmers, plumbers, executives,
Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, Caucasians,
gays, furries, bronies,
foodies, junkies, abstainers,
republicans, democrats,
atheists, monotheists, polytheists,
etc.

People are people.
So, why begrudge them that?

I do, however, have a problem with mean, hateful people
who's greatest joy comes in a form of shadenfreude.

Be who you are,
but don't impose your self-image onto others;
impose others onto your Self with a healthy dose of salt.
You may learn a thing or two.

Live and let live.

Standing tall
for all to see
majestic grace
reveal to me
the secret that
you hold so dear
the secret that
you hold so near
a mystery from ages past
that blooms as though
the day won't last
spreading out
into the world
loving embrace
needs no words

Have you ever stopped to wonder
Where pocket lint comes from
Is it mass produced, does it just run loose
Or is it grown on a pocket lint farm

And are there tiny little farmers
With tiny little hoes
Who's time is spent planting pocket seed lint
In tiny little rows

Is that why so many pockets
Are lined in cloth of white
For the best in growing conditions
Letting in the perfect amount of light

But then you have to wonder
What the farmers do for rain
And if your always wet in the front of your pants
What would people have to say

And why go through all the trouble
Since apparently it has no use
Unless we hire tiny little tailors
In the making of pocket lint Leisure Suits

And if we do I'd like mine in baby blue
To wear at all the Bar Mitzvahs, Proms, and Wakes
I'm sure that once it catches on
It'll be the latest craze

There really must be some sort of purpose
In pocket lints grand design
Don't you ever wonder where it comes from
I myself think about it all the time

For every heart broken, a story is gained,
Every hypothetical forever I entertained,
Now merely an anecdote
Of how I used to dote
And I wrote, and I wrote
And I'm so sorry that all you are now
Is just another story I tell