I like that story where a visitor is told The universe is a blanket spread above us as a tent   Over time the fires warmed us sent up their sparks to burn small holes through which the bright   light of the world…

Through the window , we see life, asleep and cold world seems like an ice berg half alive static silent still though movement is visible but pending doom so far away it seems cannot zoom The bridge connects,reflects a presence but a mystery profound, on…

Soul Flame Splashed on canvas Soul flame blue giving way to new Hour 10 @varenyas

Mitch Brown Hr 13 I wonder why limericks weren’t used Could it be that they’ve gotten confused For it seems odd to me Cause this form is so free Did they fear that they would be abused

Old Man Under the Mountain, Reprised Mother, how may I keep Death away when on our door he knocks? Son, he may only approach and harvest souls where death has existed before. Mother, how can this be, when even so much as a swatted fly…

Odin’s eyes aside Divine colors paint the sky rainbow bridges shine

The grip goes round my chest It feels like a pressure Slipping up to my neck But the grip goes tight. I can’t escape But I don’t try Either. For 2 months straight I have drank one ounce more One shot more. Two nights ago…

It’s time to go now, my child…   No! I can’t. I am too young, my kids are too small –   You’ve raised them well. They’ll survive   I don’t want them to survive…I want them to live! I don’t want them to scrummage…

Death seems satisfying It’s there for you when you need it It is a circulating vulture Slow travel is the way we hope to go Of Old age or in our sleep as if we have free previews or a taste of death tour without…

I see you standing outside my door. Thinking it’s me you’re here for. You stand there with brochure in hand. But I’m not buying that piece of land. Keep on walking right down the street. It’s not time for us to meet.