The vibrant dreams
of a young girl
And the elegent drapery
Of frivolous royalty
The colors of rage-
-and sadness
Of power-
-and compromise
Immersed into one
And spit out
Onto lavender fields
And violet sunsets
And all sorts
Of delicate little pretty things
Telling stories of burning love
Mixed with icy lonliness
On the writer's palette
Like the violet buds of affection
Nipped in their juvenile buds
But also the wilting leaves of a lilac
Left to rot past its prime

sticks are available and are free

here

wanting a little gate plus the entertainment factor

we sawed them up and tied them all with string

it is a prototype

a rickety stickety gate

bit wonky

perhaps the next one will be more better having practiced

The beholder holds in their eyes
More beauty than can ever really be
More than a thousand skies
Colored orange by the sun kissing the sea

That makes beauty subjective
And in no way less true
That each has their own
And my kind of beautiful is you

Awakened and
Awash with life, a soul
Abandoned amid artificial
Sophistication;

Blinded by beauty best beheld
Beneath bold bastions of
Blazing silence. Craze
Rules;

Cacophonies collide and
Congeal, coagulate and
Cluster—melting, not unlike
Neapolitan ice cream.

Durst the dwindling
Darkness dance its
Deathly defenstration? Ought it
To belay its night?

Evening ekes ever closer,
Edging; even seeking most to
Elevate eternity to its
End. Out with it. Time
Is not your pet!

Forward, faithful fowls of
Fancy: feast on flesh
For which you came!
Find a farewell fully
Sanctioned.

Get a grip on grime
Galore! Go, you gawdy
Grateful gyre; gone is all
Glory and rhyme. Now to
Exculpate a *****:

He's the hero herewith, and
Helping hide his horrid
Histr'y is the hill you have to
Climb.

I, interloping idiot, I
Itch to irk some innocent
Ilk. I, the

**** ****** jankly onward
Just to justify juiced minds.
Jury, you must spew a verdict!
Judge you must sentence
This crime.

Klaxons blare that kegs are
Key to this
Kiss, but not to fool
Keen kind of
Folk

Limitations let me
Lie here looking like
Life left me lame.
Lots of lazy lack of
Praising

Made my music
Mainly maim. Most
Men motion more for
Glory:

No one needs to
Name their cause;
Nothing will. Notice now,
What is northward,

Only our obliging airs
Often offered on the
Order of the oligarchic
Thains.

Prosper we, politely posting?
Positing our prescient claim?
Passing not the prophet's muster,
Put we not ourselves to
Shame?

Quickly! Question who is
Questing quietly beyond the pale:
Quoth the raven quixotic chaos
Quite outside the
normal

Range? Really, rouse the
Raspy rooster, rising sun a
Ruse too rare:
Rafting in on rising
Currents

Stallions stride the earth
So bare. Sing the song,
Six pence so-called,
Still the cost of
Love riebald.

Touch the tangled
Truths which dangle
Tantalizingly close to there;
Take the taudry lesson
Home.

Unleash hell upon the masses,
Unsuspecting users will delight,
Until all the unlit gases
Usher forth into our
sight.

Valor vests its
Vanquished victims with
Vociferous applause. Asking
Very little of them—just a life for a
Just cause!

War will wake the
wasting weapons wildly
Whet with wonderous
Rage.

X, the spot is marked e-
xactly where was this
X-human
unmade.

Yesterday young warriors
Yelled out yearning for
Years they have lost
Yeeting sinners into
Their graves.

Zoom! At Zion
Zealot's rage is launching—
Zero zest for living love—
Zoo-like, all the world is watching; all the world,
And that above.

I'm laughing at myself.
The pain I was dealt.
From the board, the rod and the belt.
The time I spent in the dark.
Cast away far apart.
In my mind blurred.
Many times unheard.
The hours I wasted.
The ways I debated.
The words I couldn't convey.
The days that washed away.
Knowing there's no I'm okay.
I'm waiting every day.
Just to say.
Maybe today.

I don’t write to make you feel pain
I write with hope you may better understand my soul