About death, The geography is a labyrinth It is a round odd ball- this Earth It’s vacant, empty, and ghost-like Large swathes of fertility are left to… Read more “Ramble 131: About Death”
Freedom is the taste of a new man’s lips, knowing he doesn’t bother with the taste of mine. Freedom is the feeling of wrapped arms, which don’t… Read more “Ramble 130: Meeting freedom”
Little girls find themselves in playgrounds, often out of bounds; they run amuck in boundary walls, never confined within them; always in defiance, in opposition to the… Read more “Ramble 129: stories of little girls and giant playgrounds”
Source: Ramble 128: Are you too young to be sad?
Questions focusing on death, life, and the cruel existence of all that is in-between don’t hit you harder than when you are at your rock bottom. Like… Read more “Ramble 128: Are you too young to be sad?”
Writing is not for the weak. It is not to be deleted but shared. Share it with yourself, read it over and over again until its twisted… Read more “Ramble 127: What writing is all about”
Tobacco stained face Yellowed teeth, stink of old neglect Fat fat cheeks, like a little girl That you are. Fat and thin, short and oddly shaped Little… Read more “Ramble 126: Fat and Thin”
London bridge is fallin’ down Fallin’ down, fallin’ down London bridge is fallin’ down My fair homies. No brown hands to pull it back up Pull… Read more “Ramble 125: London bridge is fallin’ down”
roses are red violets are blue they are all “dead”: corpses lying in the room.