she crawls slowly through the mist
in the forest of demise
where the dark paths turn and twist
hidden from the open skies

where secret screams exist
going there would be unwise
the lips of pain are gently kissed
as another victim cries

if you find yourself in her midst
never look into her eyes
pretend she doesn't exist
don't be the next who dies

Inside of
This little girls hub
I keep all of memories
From the lies, pain and loves.
I've met bear's lions and cub's.
Some turned out to be masked wolves.
They bite and they rip with their ferocious of teeth
They swallow their own spit, as for others they can't believe.
But yes I see
Yes I see
Straight through their actor costume.
It's just me
Not enough time for them,
For them
I make no
Room.

Making up
Making out
Making news
What it's about
Making friends
Making war
What are we
Doing for.
Making time
Making it go
Making issues
We don't know
Making acquaintance's
Making others
Be ourselves
With each other.

.
                              When a
                       twister a-twist
                   ing will twist him a
                   twist, • For the twist
                     ing his twist,  he
                     three times  doth
                     intwist; • But if o
                     ne of the the twi
                     nes of the twist d
                     o untwist, • The t
                     wine that untwist
                     eth untwisteth th
                     e twist. • Untwirli
                     ng the twine that
                     untwisteth betwe
                     en,• He twists wit
                     h the twister the t
         wo in a twine;       • Then twice
   having twisted the  twines of the twine,
    • He twisteth the   twine  he had twined
    in twain.• The  tw   ain that  in  twining
       before in the tw   ine • As twined we
          re intwisted he  now doth intwine

GOD it's hard getting old-
Bad medical news I'VE been told-
First a hip replacement-I did fine-
Now had blood tests-they say are mine-
I never seem to catch a break-
Bad luck with each breath I take-
GOD why me I ask myself-
While I  place my bills upon my shelf-
Medical issues to deal with every day-
Instead of being happy in every way-
AT age seventy two heed my advise-
TO your doctors do be nice-
Otherwise you too could get bad news -And could share bad medical views-
THE END

I'm a little snail with no
home or tail. All I carry is
this shell over my shoulders
and back.

Wondering slow and lost
into God's woods.

Living with the constant fear
of getting squished like cookie
dough by someones shoe.

Afraid of loosing my cool and
hiding for an eternity inside
my shell.

I'm a snail who goes wherever
my minds tells me to go. To
places that are high and
low.

Under leaves and branches
of trees.

I'm a snail who doesn't want
to live the rest of it's life alone
and blue.

A snail who wants love , a wife
and a cozy home.

I'm a snail who wants to have
children and a wedding on pretty
river stones , where
the water floats by and
the fish pause to awe
and sigh* ~