*you'd never make him for a cry baby
only because he cries when
no one is ever around
bright is his sound
dark, his pen
maybe*
♦♦♦
♦♦
♦♦
♦♦
♦♦
♦♦
♦♦
♦♦
♦♦♦
*maybe,
○○perhaps, maybe*○○
°
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
Give me a gun
Give me a snake;:'';=!::=;='=:=;=;=
Give me an apple
I'll make you a grape.
;;'='=:=:=:\:=-$+%+$+$:$;$:=-#+#+
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 12:10 AM UTC
For you, my friend, I have a gift:
The endless, and the infinite-
and all that can come of them.
And if you'd like to like it, do so.
And if you don't, don't.
But it's all the same.
Life is one holy river, with ebbs and flows.
It comes and goes, and knows no time.
For you, my friend, there is no end.
But beginning will begin to see;
the island of days drifting into a sea of confusion.
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
The mind stays steady as your fingers race
up and down the alphabet
tapping a dance across a key board
this is a poets voice,
singing songs plucked out of the great silence.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
Eating my
Pickles
I'm pickle
HElloOOOoOOOOoOOOOO
POeeTrYyY!-=-=-=-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\
Hi,
I am Pi***Ckle.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 9:12 AM UTC
Tickle toe juice
Any girl want to get loose like a goose
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
Tickle my feet they stink \)\(\)\(\)\(\)\(\) my name is pickle
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
Night, gripped by future thoughts I lie,
Mind nocturnal, never blinking eyes,
Day's events and those to come don't rest only rush
Heart hastens shadowing pace, moves respite out of touch
Perspective the enlightener sprouts a shoot,
A momentary distraction which begins to take root
Breath is vacuumed slowly from nose to chest,
Streaming laden air out, a peaceful wind lays upon breast,
Mind slows recognising nights familiar touch,
Sleep content, knowing, I'm but a mindful piece of dust
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
Chips salty yum fun yum eat chicken salad with Italian dressing sweetened tooth bitty booper +$+#(#(##;#;\(\)@)@)@)@)@)}@)@(@(@)@(@))@ hi I'm pickle
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC
With skin the color of coffee what I wouldn't give to have a cup of her
Putting my lips to hers taking long slow sips warming my insides
Her fragrance is like freshly brewed aromatherapy healing my soul.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC