America (Remove filter)
You can't Streep poverty under the carpet... - NaPoWriMo Day 9
A silence fell upon the city,
contorted shadows twisting moonlight.
Stuttering in a speakeasy seemed so misplaced
bottles rattled flickering like Fedora feathers
in an unforgiving wind.
The wretched odour of deprivation
a stench that sticks and degrades ones existence.
Even by day this city remains a lifeless sap
and by night the vampires feast on th...
Tuesday 9th April 2013 4:44 pm
Home
They say home is where the heart is
and my heart is where the art lives.
So where is my home?
Art lives within us all
and begins an internal/external exchange...
a process
like humanity to trees.
We stop, relax, breathe
as one.
So where is my home?
First Contact was my spiritual home
gave meat and marrow to
broken sp...
Tuesday 8th November 2011 11:33 pm
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