I have a question little weasel, sneaking sneaker. First order of business, what is a maurder and why are you labeling people as Maurder Loggers? How about Babel Helpers? How about the four levels of the

Is it a weaken as it grows or a show A glitch- an I'm just frozen for the minute. A second neither quilt her but all the way wider. Perhaps in the eyes we can see Roman fire. bare chest- does your breath

Often at times I like to just sit and write with no real focus but to just be. I believe when we write in calamity we render what our heart may need. The greatest writing it seems, is done on non-backed

I could mark up the sky to show you indifference. Fail to see I'll show you where you the light is. Where life lives- in colors and in trees. Take a trail and knock on wisdom's door with me? Never fell

Does truth come written like a song or a screech like a tire turned wrong? Both I suppose. But I prefer the sound of waves to storybooks already wrote. If there is destiny I propose it's in the throat.

What is the modality of life? Is it essence, is it virtue, is it fate? A humbling to which I may relate or a foreign steer, an epic thrawl of "little voices don't belong here" If so then I propose

He fears the bou aloft on torrents of old. Led by the ocean and dream filled mist. What does he search for but eclipse? Wrought brought waves from tormented shore. The sailor he says let me explore. Pardon

The Parables of Youth School of Athens by Raphael A Philosophers Meeting I find it quite strange the snare of society's grip. But I believe what I believe and I'm pretty sure I know who God is. I'll start

Royal Dream The daunting silhouette, the dream and the dance of the princess. Her hands formed by grace a voice that permeates; turns darkness into day. An ever-enchanting youthful wish, beauty’s hauntingness.

A climbing steady chest, lips caress,and I loose myself in the moment. Nothing else exists. Like your lips were made for mine and we’re alive only to kiss. Love in a transient moment of eclipse I believe

I could sit and defile or run my brain for a mile. I could rest, I say quit. but my dreams would not exist. — always after what I miss. Imagination if it exist.  — the unexpected kiss. already holding

Infinity Into the depth of night May I never fear the scorching sky Nor rolling of the hills- because I have been here and I have been here and I, I have had my fill. As sure as the sky permeates the day

Hero's Chord How do you make peace with the eye of a storm the swift rendition of any and all forgotten lore- On the cusp of ash was it not where man was born, I suppose we should ask ourselves how the