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.
Award-winning Author, Veteran
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.
A journey into the labyrinth of my sceptical mind.
Passionate Teacher and Future Children's Author
Philosophy is all about being curious, asking basic questions. And it can be fun!
commonsensiblyspeaking 