If only we would listen to our own lies
With the same loving attention
We pay to our truths-Being
ooooohhhhhhhhhh....I loved this Satish....and that
beautiful simplicity in closing...
The maniac depression divides
the butterflies into pathless lies.
The grass was blue
and sky was red.
(hope you've forgiven me for my scathing indescretion
a few poems back...
)-myamberdog
the colors of new death
heated up Sky's lofty breath
enameled it on birds and clouds
until they mixed it up in lusty crowds
of molting feathered pride then spread
dark purple light upon a limpid white dawn- Michael Firewalker
With the same loving attention
We pay to our truths-Being
beautiful simplicity in closing...
The maniac depression divides
the butterflies into pathless lies.
The grass was blue
and sky was red.
(hope you've forgiven me for my scathing indescretion
a few poems back...
)-myamberdogheated up Sky's lofty breath
enameled it on birds and clouds
until they mixed it up in lusty crowds
of molting feathered pride then spread
dark purple light upon a limpid white dawn- Michael Firewalker
No comments:
Post a Comment