We are all painters
Holding a color palette
Conceiving a painting
It’s how we mix the colors
Depending on our imagination
Whether we paint happiness
Or scenes of saddened gray
Situations yield the paintings
Sometimes splashing all colors
Or else black colors gloom
Universe has mostly dark energy
Yet, we have found our colors
To paint our abode, we inhabit
No matter, colors of joy and sorrow
We celebrate all colors
We are all painters, wielding the brush
To create new colors of hope

thinking of yourself as a child
is one of the pillars of wisdom
-freedom not to be found elsewhere

In dreams we are
to become by far

a better version.

a state of bliss?

what update can this be.

certainly not Windows 93.

Through the shattered pane
again
outside in and strain my eyes
to see the same old view

nothing's new nor second hand
nothing's nothing
and that's a brand.

The intro's been and gone
to the end of time and
then

so long
Marianne

a song by Leonard Cohen
now why mention him?

Sorry 'bout that, but  
the name cropped up
so I slipped it in.

I see fractures in the fractals
candelabras on the ironing board
creases in which these words are stored
and pterodactyls overhead

the only thing certain is a prediction
and I have yet to believe in those.

Frolicking 'Gray's' across golden seas
of Dawn fescue , easing collective thoughts pining
for morningtide rescue
Wild Daises committed to the ever rising
July sunlight , iridescent Hummers circling the piedmont
furrows , tickled Crows burst into laughter in mid-flight
Cardinals and Chickadees relay their gift of self
High above the diamond studded hillside shelf* ....

Spit out a kilowatt
light up
or shut up
and
stay in the dark

I am a part of the movement
that challenges
incessant torment.

Nothing as quiet as the dead when
the dead of the night is unsettling.

Every petal you pull and tell me it's a love
is a petal that dies in your hands

fatally injured
I bleed into your arms
where you hold what is
left of once magical charms
do you see them now?
the low down as I go down is
there's only one life
you live or you lose it,
but do no confuse it
with living.

Oh,
lonely,
  broken
   little
    soul.
Cute little doll, porcelain and rogue, little magical empty being.
I know that place, mmm, that never land.
Tiny little heart, beating so bold
the black it oozes with every pump,
beautiful raven's gold.
Precious little one, I want to give you my hand.
I don't know whether you'll take it,
Whether I want you to,
Inevitability, I'll break my toy,
But if that's okay with you,
then it's okay with me.
If you got jagged edges, I'll smooth em out,
If you're shattered on the inside, I'll lick it out,
If your nightmares come to life,
They'll find a place with these demons of mine.
The
Thing
  You
   Don't
     Know
       is

How far does the rabbit hole go?
Is wonderland a dream
or a lie?

Jump and see.
Jump and see.