I don't know where this is going, perhaps?

I can't be anyone but myself, as you can see everyone else is taken.

"Poetry is so intense
it curves acutely
leaving skid marks
across your mind…"

Reblogged from lzlabseesu

©Lzlabs8/2014 (via lzlabs)

people are like flowers

Reblogged from mermaidsbite


they are loved
only until
they wither

Reblogged from mermaidsbite


The Deep Space set. Enjoy.

Tomorrow I’ll be working on images of spacecraft and manned exploration of space.

- spacedriver

Reblogged from unxld

(Source: sayingimages.com)


How many times had I gone to clubs

The trashier the better

Wheeling,spinning, going anywhere

Flirting with Bella The Kid

Hanging up against the wall

Free-flowing my craft

Stopwatch in hand


Give up, go all the way

Escalating, living on the fringes

I am the nightlife



Like Neon

Raunchy, predatory

I’ll attract you and pull you in

You know, all I want is a vision of YOU.




I’m sure many have been subjected to those that write verses meant to sweep you off your feet. The type already placing you in their arms, then bedding you long, long before you would ever think, much less, agree to such a thing.  For some reason, this cockiness grated on me, so I answered the flowery, callow fellow in this way:


To who is it I
Am guilty of this incursion?
I do not seek to ask
To bane,
Or take to task
Any of the needful things;
You think I ask.

What is your love, but lust
Hidden under elegantly toned, dross coats
Another sign
Another entreaty
A bit of the rannygazoo
Quite undeserving of.

A canny fish of a different sort
One that feels no net
Not a philosopher, but the act.
Magistral, a ‘tich fantastical
To suppose such heroic deeds
Whence they come, a tad myogenic?
You think me simple, perhaps sport?

The ending, the writhing
All things I know more than enough about
But to be subjugated to them?
I am a mythoclast
Pleased to meet you
But, I do not swoon at the well crafted verse
Centuries have sought to claim me
So best be, I leave you writing and wishing


Every mourns the day you take your life and die, but what about the squadrons of days just before? 

Eulogy~ minus the expected

Dear God.

Robin, In this world of…

What Dreams May Come

How is your slice…

Your peak at the afterbirth

Of an Afterlife?

This after-death adulation,

Obscured mourning, is for the living

Your trap was seemingly too tight

I hope where you are

Is better than the place you left


Almost There…Again…Again


Almost There…Again…Again

Almost There…where?

Silence deafening
Puling in breath, after aching breath
The dull thud of my heart

heavy Brass clapper in my breast

Tick tock.

Why Hello, Sinister Poe

Can it be that you’re gone
Ever, ever were you ever here?

Heart says yes
Tacit tears, somewhat agree

Times~ glib memories
Your voice resounds in my head

I was elated, so happy
for a moment.

Potential love lost
or is it…
The key to my heart is in your hand

For now, that key that is as permanent as the Sahara’s shifting sands


Come back into me…

Silent Cyclone

A simple critique

(but I should have known)

Everything spun on a dime

(waking up from the grips of the unknown)

The veracity

(commencing count-down, engines on)

The scent unique

(Huston, we have a problem)

Months before swept under

(I’ve created a silent cyclone)

A head full of dripping moonbeams


An alibi, so it seems, for self

(terse, trite, becoming absurd)

So she screams of running into the forest

(your reality dictates action)

Leaving not a trace

(Gretel has not forgotten her bread crumbs)

Walls, defenses crumbling

(meaninglessness <> absurdity=normal)

The trolls advancing

(words, just fucking WORDS)

Sorry, Kiddo, this is the “Human Race.


#buckup #Lordgivemestrength #breakthroughs #Messy