Here the dark hangs like ancient tapestries,
The dank rot of old woven wishes,
Fill nostrils with a stench of onyx air.
Here the dark hangs like ancient tapestries,
The dank rot of old woven wishes,
Fill nostrils with a stench of onyx air.
At the dark end of a wayward street,
Atop a bare and lonely ,
its the old man’s mansion replete,
Bespoke in tendrilled ivy vest.
Embracing imperfection with faith, flannel, & fresh air
Faith saved us from the savages that we were, losing faith makes us savages again
Often Misunderstood
An Open Mic & Poetry Show
I speak my heart out.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.
Passionate Teacher and Future Children's Author
Philosophy is all about being curious, asking basic questions. And it can be fun!
Work by Rain Alchemist
It's Time to Play...
commonsensiblyspeaking 