The stream (all workshops)
Going down
Don’t come around
Just a ghost town
Shut your eyes
Ignore the sound
Plastic funhouse
Always said
You knew this
From the start
Ride or die
Won’t ever break
My heart
But now
Your on
Your way
Hear you have
a new past
That’s ok
The flame
Would burn out
Either way
You are
Better
With out me
Standing upon the bridge looking down to the scenery strikes wonder into my soul free.
an amorphous cascade of water running fourth, causing a halfhearted deadlock unto the dreadnought; getting caught up in the epitome of fleeting etiquette.
Enchanted by effervescent, flowing from the rocky crescent.
Evergreen tree’s light the breeze as a slow moving drift flows down from the moon-lit morning sky. Moved by such majesty.
-Sage Collet
Your smile
is a killer
and could
even raise
the dead
You're my
Daystar
that shines
always
in my heart
I'm now fully
charged
ready to
replicate
a unique love
that can't be cloned
each time
I set my eyes
on you
I feel
an irresistible
sensation
that runs through
my veins
as swift as arrows
gazing on your
glamorous eye
I see virtue
and goodness
you're one in a million
The paper skin
Has bled its regrets.
Thousands of red dykes
Burst from the bramble infantry
Have dried.
Though Wind
Still blows through the holes.
The elders gathered beneath a cloud-covered sky; somber and staid unlike the usual chatter; waiting for the crimson moon to unveil what was the matter. Silent stars stretched out and smacked them in the face, foreboding a destiny that would endanger their entire race.
A change in the wind allowed the long-awaited light to creep in. Amarok rose, his eyes glistening yellow, suppressing his fear, he faced the council; "Let us begin."
I smile brightly at my family and friends
I shrug my shoulders and clasp my hands
I look and strangers and give a quick nod
I only mention others when I pray to God
But inside my heart is slowly turning black
You'll never see me cry or cut myself slack
I'll look you in the eye and say "I'm okay."
I don't let you see my tears fall every day
Her wild spirit erupts like oil from a hot pan.
She plays her cookware,
instruments of her domestic domain,
spatulas, spoons, pots —
dances across the kitchen floor,
from stove to oven
to oven again
Arabic music blaring —
She creates flavor notes,
dash of cumin,
teaspoon of coriander,
clove of garlic,
sprinkling of motherhood,
coalesce into a symphony of exotic aromas
wafting from open windows of her
American décor home.
I wish I did not live on borrowed breath,
that I had faith to face tomorrow’s death.
And when these bones of mine the soil does smother,
beyond this lonely life there waits another.
I wish that I could hear the talking trees,
and catch their wondrous whispers on the breeze.
That my dear father had not died so young;
his death, when I was fourteen years, had stung!
This newborn child
Makes our family so very proud
When I stare at her smiling face
My mind begins to race
My heart is filled with joy
Soft words I began to employ
Her lips pour out tiny sounds
That have no real bounds
Her eyes shine brightly
My words aren't taken lightly
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