Oily sludge Drips from war machinery Lubricated by blood-seasoned crude We watch it on our TV In air-conditioned misery Wonder if there’s anything we can really do In a world where fame supercedes the art that makes us famous Where image misportrays the essence of…

Fearless That ain’t me Though I was Born to be free Living I do it everyday Or is it breathing Whatever it may be Happy I know it’s me Though I have no idea Why would that be.

When I am with you Everything feels like magic Like I am standing in a fairyland Full of flowers a d fresh air The touch of your hand Feels like butterflies flying all over When you kiss my lips I feel like the ground beneath…

Image Courtesy of “DimitrisVetsikas” at Pixabay   Dog’s have a special kind of magic. What lies captive in the eyes of a dog Is worth wondering about, Since the thoughts of a dog Are pure and true. The stare of a dog capivates, And holds…

Soundless, the roses sing their fragrant music that only I can hear.     J. Pratt-Walter 6/22/2019

He floats around with an occasional wail Waiting There’s nothing left for us to do   I once tried to reach out for him Terrified My fingers slipped through like mist   The long game makes us weary

Together we tangle in a lovers knot your mouth hungry for my sun kissed skin my body can’t get enough of yours skin on skin sparks flying speaking in tongues as chemicals release exploding into magical chaos

Swirling in my head, a floating sensation. A phrase that usually condemns you to eternal damnation. From Salem to a faraway land with a hard-to-pronounce-name. “Magic is not real” is screamed in the face of me, a person who won’t tame. Crystal balls tell the…

why bother trying to sleep when your neighbor decides to mow his lawn on Saturday morning be patient wait for the sound of silence to return a quiet only interrupted by the longing of the birds  

You and he alone, a loaded gun between you. We all died that day.