Author Information
Ain't no correalation in a blue notes phase, versus histories tome of changing tide
The conviction in the crazies. The delusional of grandeur. Lord let me sleep for a second. Praying the while, happiness abides in light or heart lit fire. Charcoal and ash buring hot lifes memories placed in our figments of self imagined importance. Your a soul, you have a body. Kindness is the only way for old shoes ragged in the ears. The worn transient soul. Frayed and learned ever stepping thru the walk of life. The fine line in hearts of men where good and evil collide. Truth in its most supreme right shines brighter than any inanimated screen. A quest granted for the touch of bourgeios creatures slipping thru the cracks of time. Are we eroding? Are we imploding? Are we falling on deaf ears like shots exploding? Let tolerance for the err be rightous then called in to play. Lets conquer our nightmares in the night, then be golden in the day. Night and day don't exisist we are always moving.
Prose Poetry
Surreality drifts between the line spaces coaxing me in.
The sun rises. The sun sets.
Hazing into morning,
golden when leaving.
We keep moving.
.
The sun arrives. The sun
exits softly. Breaking
horizon, light splintering
night. We keep moving.
.
The sun opens day. The
sun's last rays close day.
Wind tides and sea tides
watch. We keep moving.
.
Stella L. Crews
03-13-16
808a
.
Wonderful Stella!
Thank you for allowing me to inspire you. We will keep moving!
Until we can't move anymore
Pain is not an option. That is why they invented Epsom Salt baths : ) - allets