Poetry is what surrounds you, the air you breath, the the golden sunset you see, the chirping birds you hear, yet the wind that blows off your clothes such that we see your naked mind.
To search in the crowd For a mysterious face that’s strikingly familiar To search deep into the subconscious For faint infant memorie...
Monday, April 2, 2012
simonpoetically: PUBLIC DUMPSITE
simonpoetically: PUBLIC DUMPSITE: Towering high, conspicuously mighty Obnoxious, murky, stinking-filthy Midst the sophistication That is paved manicured city stre...
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