Thursday, January 10, 2013
Cradle
Who does this cradle hold? Swaying back and forth
The pendulum between right and wrong,
It hides from tight embraces and rolls in blood
This time of nonsense that comes from hidden shores.
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Sweet Spirit
At night, the stairs of this old house creaks Whispering to me, sweet spirit sleeping soundly during the night. The shadow movements, the ...
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Many pieces torn into shreds, year by year. Fragile bits cracking gently but never mending. To the core that binded never was. We traveled...
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Forgive me for being on this fast track, This train keeps passing the stations I’m suppose to be getting off. A night here in paradise h...
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The Blue Gypsy once weaved tales of pure delight. And through her voice a magical sojourn took place; Her audience was enticed by every wo...