.
There were certain tea--chers--

that came crashing through my mind
like a herd of Buffalo,
New Yorkers.

Peeling, pointing porkers.

Try--ing to remind me--
the atmospheric city,
is not the alphabet, Oh!
Should I move out of Ohi--o?

(Oh me, oh me. Oh, my--O!)

I --
was dissolving,
certain rainy days sort of
had that sad effect on me.

And-- I-- was suspended--
high above a swaying bridge,
holding back the water.

Like old comic books and thunderstorms
crashing down like gravity...
And--
I smelled the smell of moth *****,
made me think of someones' grandma.

The empty corners of their closets.
The empty corners of their closets.


And still...
I dream of fly--ing--
high above the alligators
wrestling in an open pit.
While...

an anaconda
drops in uninvited and
squeezes both of them, Oh!

I am not complaining,
just because it's raining.

There were certain tea--chers--

that came crashing through my mind
like a herd of Buffalo,
New Yorkers.

Peeling, pointing porkers.

Try--ing to remind me--
the atmospheric city,
is not the alphabet, Oh!
Should I move out of Ohi--o?

(Oh me, oh me. Oh, my--O!)

I --
was dissolving,
certain rainy days sort of
had that sad effect on me.

And-- I-- was suspended--
high above a swaying bridge,
holding back the water.

And...










.

-
Shaping molten sin into wrought iron ******.
Rusted rivet's sparks sail down the spiral staircase
and scatters like fireflies on the stone.
Guitars scream as they lead the band to slaughter,
thinking they own the streets like Al Capone.

Molten metallic music with a razors edge
mollifies the faithful like mutton to the ledge.
Mayhem ensues with a sonic boom as
bolts of rock & roll illuminate the room.

We're heading toward a revolution,
we always heard you wanted one.
They bought the lie of evolution,
burnt their skin waiting for the Son.

It's just a heavy metal observation,
you allowed the lyrics to take their toll.
Today we see the damage is done,
the insane have unhinged their soul.

.My hands take custody ofher full plump cheeks,almost as rosy as her lips.Her eyes become so blueduring the eclipse of Neptune.Gold flecks in her eyesswirl like the rings around Saturn.Her smile crashes into my heart likethe Jupiter comet bombabardment.And my heart shines like the sunwhen she calls me poppy.She wants me to read her a story...

.

~The sting of reality hits me square on the chin,
and these four cold walls keep closing in.
I'm gonna leave this old town,
I wanna leave it today.
Give me ten thousand balloons
and I'll fly away.

Over these crumbling chimneys,
and these sun cracked tiles.
Beyond the sea of heartache
and those faking their smiles.

I'd surely leave tonight,
I don't even care if the sky is gray.
Give me ten thousand balloons
and I'll fly away.~





.

.
His hormones rage as
she bathes in the setting sun.

Hollywood tan lines-



Beauty--

and the beast beneath the

Corona Borealis.







.

.

One of these days
she will love me--

One of these days
she'll call...

One of these days
she won't pull away.

She's gonna let me kick that darned ball.

Because I'm gonna run
out of Xanax,
and her sign
will say that she's in.

One of these days
I'm going to kick that darned ball.
One of these days--

I will win.

There's times I love that red headed girl,
and my Beagle thinks he can fly.
One of these days I'm gonna kick that darned ball--

Does she really want see to 'ol Chuck cry?

One of my friends is covered in dirt,
in town I am known as a clown.
One of these days you will know me by name--

My friend Linus, he calls me Charlie Brown.

.
She walked naked into the woods,
where the moonlight danced with fog.
Where an owl competes with a coyote,
the rush of the creek drowns out a dog.

Fascinations overwhelmed her,
she just wanted to know.
Then a future reading of an ultrasound
appeared from within the glow.

She looked beyond the stars above,
as Saturn's colors began to swirl.
She thanked God and she walked back home,
she now knows that it's a girl.









.

.
I am part soul,
I'm here for a kiss.
I grasp at her stars'
photosynthesis.

My long lost Atlantis,
a rose from dead seas.
She shows me the doors,
but hands me no keys.

I'm the fallen columns
all scattered about.
"Twenty thousand leagues!"
I heard someone shout.

She's my chipped chiseled stone
below the mucked mire
that leads me beyond
Calcutta's cold fire.

Ah! Lethargic genius,
there's gathering birds
where dogs lap at the *****
we mistook for your words.

She hides in my veins
while it's raining outside.
She's my universal
osmosis suicide.

She really is...






.

.

Seems that I'm spending
most of my time down at the Karaoke King.
Under more normal circumstances
I wouldn't even say a thing.(But...)

I need to invest some more time in me
or I'll never become a star,
because I've sunk a pretty penny
just pimpin' out my car.

And this Mississippi mud
is even bogging down my truck,
and if I don't keep it rockin'
I may never get unstuck.

Success always comes from hard, hard work
it never comes to you from afar.
Would you please remind me tonight
to change the strings on my air guitar?

And I've been too tired to dance
with my own silhouette.
I just want a house out in the country,
and a brand new black Corvette.

My future's slowly rising,
it shouldn't take me long.
You see, this stage has been my home
and this here's my new song!

I need to invest some more time in me
or I'll never become a star,
because I've sunk a pretty penny 
 just pimpin' out my car.

And this Mississippi mud
is even boggin' down my truck,
and if I don't keep it rockin'
I may never get unstuck.

Wont you help me,
please; won't you help me?
Because I want to be a star.

Just do me a favor and remind me tonight
to change the strings on my air guitar.
Please do me a favor and remind me tonight...
to change the strings on my air guitar.






.

He took a schizophrenic detour
by taking candy
from a bleeding stranger.

The beast in the machine
steers the planets, pinwheel galaxies
whirl on their own collision course through space --

as city sewers
whisper your name
the black thawing streets
will ****** narcotics
into the blind man's hand,
as another addict screams ****
for tastes of yesterdays'
dreamscape. . .

.Paralyzing memoriesdiscovered a milliondeep pockets inmy mind fromwhich to pouncelike a purple panther,or a compressed clown in a music box at anygiven time. Doubtseparates black light from sun, solidifyingshadows too afraidto leave the securityof the wall, anchoredin frozen, motionlesssafety. Relax, relax!Set the shadows a-blaze. Forget the oldcurtains, the carpet,just burn the shadowsdown. DOWN! JUSTBURN THEM! DOWN!We all fell. The shadowsand I slithered to the burn-ing floor along with theshadows as my macaronimind came to a rolling boil.My memories marched offin single file.File byfile.

-
I see Neptune
spinning in
her big blue eyes.

I see her
desire burn
every time
that
she tries.

She tries
so hard,
you can see it
in her face.

I moon-beam
with pride
just like
outer space.

I couldn't be
more happy
than a toad
on a paddy.

She moon-rocks
my world
when
she calls me daddy.





.

.
He suspended her
from the lowest branch
of the tree.

Naked and wet.

plump--
reddened cheeks
from the kiss of the sun.

once bitten--

the whole city
flipped over



-and it snowed...


nickles and dimes!

.
~His eyes are in the palm of his hand,
the sky is in his mind.
He wants to find new colors--

Who knows what he will find?

The wind is on the front porch,
the dog's mouth is quick to foam.
A tornado suddenly blows you away--

a long, long way from home.

Kansas is gone-
the Tinman said,
as the poppy fields
donned a million head.

A crimson explosion-
a juicy, ripe plum;
and a peace pipe full
of *****.

John, George, and Paul
were comfortably numb.
Poor Ringo got a blister
on his drumming thumb.

This day could not
have been any more fun,
when Paul proved,
"Happiness WAS a warm gun."~








.

.
The
puppet awakened to...

martyrs-

selling raffle tickets
to the resurrection of
heaven-


as
the dawn
came crashing through
the trees...


and the moon hung lifeless
like a wet rag,
clipped to a frayed clothes line.

To
superstitious souls-

wearing antique flesh
like over sized overcoats;

and eternity mixing
with dew
and flow i n g
s l o w

                l

                      y


into the holy river.

Who cut the puppet's strings?











.

Eternity wheezed,displaying its shortness of breath.Orange orbs whizzed in its' originalpath of vision due to a completelack of oxygen.Stirring stars shot rubber bands at each otheracross the universe. TWANG!Comets were slung like spitballs. Black holespainted each others nails whitewhile biting into a crunchy planet like a Dorito.®Salt of the earth was lost in dank darkness.An Mp3 player came crashing through the stratospherewhile playing my favorite song."Sitting in the morning sun,I'll be sitting when the evening comes,watching the ships roll in, and I watch themroll away again".

.


Impaled with sunken eyes,
hung out to dry in the sun.
They crawled up the living crucifix,
struggling to be the first to see heavens' gates.

Wrapped into submission,
Bacchus prepared the crystal
wine glasses. His finest hour.

Temptation's seed hath scattered.




.

.  



spring Fugi wind storm
cherry blossom explosion
renders the lamb pink






.

. She's a top-hat autocrat, inamber wavesof grain,singing whiskey lullabies-As young girls comes of ageanother flower dies.3 a.m. pencilsprickfamous strangers;the waitress in theblack stockingsstill believesshe's lost some timebomb ticking somewhere.A starving dog,unblinking-barked at my shoes..

.Her adjectives were littlemore than colorful trinkets that splashdark light, even on Sunday mornings therewas no rest for the wicked. My earsrejected the multi-colored grotesque barrageof hateful verbiage crammed in therewith every other simple sentence that you couldprobably see long stains left behindlike a fatal battle scar. Her mother was just as evil--I'm surprised my wife even made it to puberty. I supposeshe wanted a carbon copy just in case of an emergency,because she practiced clenching old mens' esophagus' with herice cold eyes; much, much colder than any sea on the moon;Tranquility must have been banned from her cartographers budget.Her words were like old moon rocks she'd hurl at passers bywith her catapult like tongue and even swifter *******. Always aiming at the frontal cortex. Her harsh textured words would kickand claw their way down ravaged ear canals like three ******* catsin an Italian gondola slowly floating down the over saturated streets.It usually irked me beyond comprehension when she would bring outthe sickly sweetened, over ripe verbal ammunition to pry and beg mefor more cigarette money. I'd give her the money with my favorite feined grin which bought me sacred time and to watch her walk away..

.
His breathing fell silent as the unborn child...

***** by reality as his jaw fell toward his feet--
His eyes, ***** windows in a ***** world.

Magazines with wet rings from
sweaty brown Bud Light bottles as
pride slithered down dry throats,
and dead eyes were ceasing to see.

Olympus tossed my good
intentions
tied to an anchor
to the bottom
of the sea,
and Poseidon just blows bubbles.

How can he see me with his eyes closed?






.

.


Collecting the years like a lazy butterfly
caught in the mouth of a lost time infested net.
Columbian Crush!

Where it never rains love nor money. ***** clothes,
***** hands, and
***** minds fill man's hole. Singing shotgun,
bottom feeder's cameras sling the dirt
and shoot the moon.
Wild childrens' vines still swing.

Will anyone here be voting next Thursday?

Remind me why time was killed,
so brutally gunned down in broad daylight.
He apologises as he secretly scratches her name
from his little black book.

Bartender,
another shot of Columbian Crush
on the rocks...

.

I thought that you loved me body and soul--

I thought,"Finally I made the grade."
I thought that you cared for me
deeper than deep,

just not as deep as your blade.




♥

.It's 4 a.m.A hotelbibleisspreading thegood newsto a local wino,as ***** childrenof intimatestrangers areplaying X Boxwith addicts.A young girlis learning toinhaleup on thegravel rooftop,scribing poetryon her armin the sparsemoonlight.Razor writingis sucha wasteof type O..

.


Snips & snails & midnight shadows unaware--

...the soft flesh of wildflowers tremble
in the blistering wind.

Slowly shifting their tattered reflection...
Twilight fire, painted angels
bleeding dreamlessly.

A perfect stranger
melts like a million echoes ground into dust.
Eternity glowed like a falling moonstone.

Girl's souls
really are sugar and spice...







.

.




Count the stars in a moonless sky
as Borealis dances alone.
Reminds me of a cold, distant fire--
or childhood memories churning.
                  *
Making their bed on the cooling sand,
a new lovers' fire consumes.
Embers crackle and the night rages on
while the rest of the world's slowly burning.
                  *
Borealis, twists and turns and
sings,"How sweet the sound,"
as a sleepy ocean lullaby
comes crashing to the ground.
                 *
You've got comets and Cupid's
arrows falling all about
as dolphins race through
an electric atmosphere.
                 *
Where time and man
co-exist as thought,
when you choose the right door
you're outta here.
                 *
Count the stars in a moonless sky
as Borealis dances alone.
Reminds me of a cold, distant fire--
or childhood memories churning.
                  *
Making their bed on the cooling sand,
a new lovers' fire consumes.
Embers crackle and the night rages on
while the rest of the world's slowly burning.
                  *
Borealis, twists and turns and
sings,"How sweet the sound,"
as a sleepy ocean lullaby
comes crashing to the ground.






.

.
Origami rhythm
folds within his soul.
Thundering horses
came before the rain,
as merry-go-round melodies
skip across the sea.
His concept of desolation
changed with the wind,
with the eclipse of the eagle.






.

So sadistic comes the night
in red stiletto heels.
Many fallen angels
knows just how this feels.

Vampire slayer's
record player
spins without a bite.

I am falling through
the stratosphere
at the speed of night.

Let me go,
rock & roll,
I hear the night time sing.

Smokey bars
and steel guitars
rock Saturn's neon ring.

So sadistic comes the night
in red stiletto heels.
Many fallen angels
knows just how this feels.

I am falling through
the stratosphere
at the speed of night.








.

.
I am the man that's she's drivin' wild,
but Mona Lisa never smiled
as an adult or a younger child--

She was wild as the wind
on the western plains;
could run much faster than the driven rains.

Trains ran through her with whistles blowin',
you couldn't tell if she were comin' or goin'.
She'd clip rose stems and arrange them in a vase--
still...I never seen a smile alight on her face.

I'd spit out a joke,
her smile wasn't half.
I felt I lived
to make this girl laugh.

So I pulled out my brush
and asked her to sit for awhile.
She looked so pretty in her paint by number smile.

still... Mona Lisa never smiled.

.Ah! Beautiful Selene-Bathe your naked body inThe waters of the ocean,Set your long hair against The wind,So lustrous in the moonlight.Your shepherd prince Endymion,You prayed his soul to keep.A cold cave for his sanctuary,You make love in his sleep.Against the archingBlack canopy of sky,Your tears fall andWe call it rain-As your fiery chariotPrepares to touch downOn a planet so full-Of the clinically insane.The sea of Tranquility calls outyour name.

.
This is a
collaboration between Christopher Glyn John Smith
& redbarchettadrive


I gave her warm wine and flowers,
and she gave me her hand,
and she led me down into
the promised land.

She gave me skin so soft
that felt of the purest silk.
A touch that was tender,
she tasted of honey and milk.

She was my heaven on earth
with such warm copper skin.
Was I just dreamin'?
Was this all a sin?

She is the girl
the girl in my dreams
She keeps me alive
The girl in my dreams

We've kissed once or twice,
subliminally silenced the screams,
but while I'm combing her hair,
she just rocks and she sings...

She sang, give me your life
And I will give you my soul
Give me all of your love
And I will grant you your goal

So, I gave her my life,
then to me it occurs
that she's jumped back into my mind
and she laid down hers.

I gave her warm wine and flowers,
and she gave me her hand,
and she led me down into
the promised land.

She gave me skin so soft
that felt of the purest silk.
A touch that was tender,
she tasted of honey and milk.

She is the girl
The girl in my dreams
She keeps me alive
The girl in my dreams

We've kissed once or twice,
subliminally silenced the screams,
but while I'm combing her hair,
she just rocks and she sings...

She sang, give me your life
And I will give you my soul
Give me all of your love
And I will grant you your goal

So, I gave her my life,
then to me it occurs
that she's jumped back into my mind
and she laid down hers.

.
I'm one tissue shy of calamity,
next to the last soul in humanity.
I am one ounce of pride short of dignity,
and one mph away from velocity.

I'm in one town, you're intensity,
a Master Charge away from identity.
One aching tendon from flexibility,
and one arc'd degree from the university.

Happiness has lost it's frivolity,
I have narrowed down my availability.
Gumby has lost all elasticity.
Will we live beyond infinity?

I've never crossed the lines between serenity and insanity,
has a poet's moon lost it's sensuality?
I am one drink ahead of sobriety.
The second to last to stand in society.

The unforgivable sin elbows my morality,
your pen sells your individuality.
One jail bar between your vulnerability.
Your down to earth qualities mock your vanity.

My daddy never claimed me through paternity,
I was the last kid standing in the maternity.
And just when I thought this poem was through,
you asked me to spend eternity with you.

.
Building castles out of stardust--
and sprawling cities lit by starlight.

The arranger stands on
geometric borders--

unobtrusive to the rebel's dream.






.

.

~sweet cherry blossom

losing their power to cling

paints an old man's sky-


a pink path softly
lays at the foot of Mt. Fugi,
as a young girl collects withering flowers-

in a brown wicker basket.

                            ~

Soft clouds slide up one side of Fugi,
and then they slide down the other.

Koi leap through a thin veil of petals-

and water.

Cool rivers winding like time...~













.

.
thunderstorms and rainbows-


a delicate rose in bloom
pools on brick and daffodils--

sunshine lighting my room

red knee highs and a cotton dress
a beggar bums some cash--

the answers to life are in the puddles
it's up to you to make the splash.




.

.
Bleeding ripe woman,
wet naked stone;
honey rock dries--
fast star bone.
Dead memories change
just like laid,
wants fly open--
soul sky parade.
Sea moon dreams,
daddy heard stars--
known little face;
death drives cars.

________


Rainy days wash--
brick looking mud,
blank reality strings
dry midsummer blood.
Dog's child minds--
revolution spreads wings,
***** molten other
fraught angel sings.
Corner ocean waves--
milk sounds morbid,
freeing minnow slaves
gritty condor kid.

_________

Catch passing eclipse--
my suicidal dream!
Kissing dying lips,
conscience eagles' scream.
Roots stop barely--
silver burdened rhyme;
river's metal tracks
help God remind.
Lofty smokeless breeze--
bird's echo box.
Ice burg floating,
saturates frozen socks.

__*____

Rings pulled strangers
silk blossoms singing--
remembering ancient maps
deep words bringing.
Canon pirates' soup
dreamer's record stalkin',
river's whole amount--
dead man walkin'.
Instant scattered corona
clenching eagle drowning;
rubber slamming secrets--
reading Robert Browning.



.

--They race to reset
splintered bones.

Society changed
humanity's war.
Revolution breeds-a stand up
death.
A martyr's enchantment
spins-on the rim
of risked inspiration.

Moral power balances
on a thin wire as this one man
war continues...

.
The mouth of death
opened wide
and swallowed me whole.

It's oblong eyes
tongues my bones
clean.

A slumping bouquet of dead
chrysanthemum stare
through the crooked
screen.

I can hear the
rumble of an aromatic
acid bath,
grumbling, tumbling,
as I'm fumbling for
my lighter inside this
suicidal psychopath.

The squeaky swing
in the yard sways
as I'm going
down frowning
like a cosmic clown.

So as
I'm remembering
a memorable memory,
the devil's on the loose.

( Suddenly I slip and slide
in his sloshing stomach juice.)

I do the back-stroke
'til my eyeballs are gone,
the bile I am mixed with
is as green as my lawn.

With one last chance,
I nailed up a poster and protested.
Then I climbed back out
before I was totally digested.

What does he think?
That I am a fool?
Besides, I have a test
this morning at school.






.

.As I sat here all alone,I thought about 'ol Al Capone.So I got some water to fill my gun--and I commenced to shooting everyone.The bullets dripped off of their faces and hair.Bullet casings were scattered-- everywhere.Oh, how silentthe sirens would wail,just like the waggingof a puppy dog's tail.I was shootin' from the streetfrom my safety zonefrom my long, black Lincoln--I was Al Capone.Somehow, somebody got a hold of my gun,and I'm tellin' ya, I ain't no fool.No copper is ever gonna take me alive--so I ran and I jumped in my pool..

.

She gazed upon †he grea† expanse,
sof† sand hid small †oes on her fee†.
A deser† daisy gen†ly caressed her hands,
†he sunshine made her day comple†e.

She walked alone on this beautiful day.
This li††le angel had jus† †urned seven.
†o ga†her her momma a fresh bouque†,
for some reason has lef† her for Heaven.

Each flower was burdened with a clump of dir†,
I wi†nessed the swee†es† †hing †oday.
I had cried and wiped †ears on my shir†,
when my mind said †o jus† walk away.

"Daddy, can Jesus le† her come ou† †o play?
How do you answer a young girl of seven?
"Jus† like we did †he o†her day."
"We can, when we ge† †o Heaven."




.

.




Another cigarette?
Nah, that won't do the trick.
Morphine tab? Percoset?

One? Two? All?
I don't know. I just
know I hurt. Bad!

Why would she do that?

I have a razor that could
take these memories far, far away.

That woman knew I'd be back
from the war
as soon as I could.

He was my best friend.


I asked him to take care of her
while I was gone. Not exactly
what I had in mind.

I tried to move forward,
to evolve. There must
be a trick to metamorphosis.

I just wanted to dry
my wings in the sun
with her.

Now I just want
to fly away.

My tears that are falling
only make me lighter.

I am going to fly.
I'm just tired of waiting for my wings.

I must be really big,
because I am falling hard.





.












.

.





  ---To be content in a mad, mad world,
to be the last sane man to see
absolutely nothing in the ink blotter clouds
marching across an azure sky like pigs
to slaughter,
laughing until the final bomb blast
  vaporizes our vocal chords.

Ripe and vibrating like a
tuning fork in A.
  Where insanity falls like rain,
we're driven mad by the patter.
  Drip, drip...
Madness took over Dallas last
  Saturday morning.

---The oceans will to rise tomorrow.
Do you live on the coast? East, west?
  Run to the hills like the bleating sheep.
Bleating and bleeding...
  Stampeding!

How long can a person tread
water surrounded
   by shark & man?

Not long...

Not long.








.

The sound of rain rises
and rolls up my window.

A herd of wild
sea horses gallop
through bubbles
of an overcrowded tank.

The gods of steel
have rusted to the belly.
Their monolithic structures
are falling-
falling.

Detroit is no place for children,
unless you keep their gun loaded.

So waves of poets
crash on the sand
of wondrous places
with a pen in their hand.

With songs on their tongue,
and dreams in their eyes.
There is still inspiration
in the friendly skies.

So do yourself a favor
and buy American,
because the old Detroit
is now the new Japan.























.

.


Fusion--
a mastermind might find confusin'!

An obtrusion,
a tree that hides a mouse from an eagle.

Jumping into what you believed was a river--
an illusion.

Sanctuary...on Monkey Island.


.

.Ancient forest-
wood and stone.
A doorway open,
a boy alone.
Summer's slumber,
a feathered choir.
Comparing her
to stars on fire.
Cracked clay horses,
a dried lagoon.
A place to sit
and talk to the moon.
Sweet Spanish moss,
roots in the sky.
Not suitable to climb-
I'll never fly.


"You cannot save shadows for a rainy day."-redbarchettadrive ♥.

.Any remaining embers of summer havetaken to the wind.Fall stones, lovers pinned-The whole world is apprehensiveof winters' chrysalis to crack.Summer returns a grown womanwith a monkey on her back..

.


Having escaped his
dank and desolate amniotic enclosure,
the devil's milk became an ebony arterial spray
dripping like warm wax down a gold-leaf candlestick.

He'll give you an inch, and take your smile...

He's a wildflower among the thorn,
with ripe lies plump for the picking,
with a heavy and pungent ripeness;
haunting, fleshy apricots with poisonous pits.

--Coolness to a burning throat,
oozing with crisp copper mockery.

He'll give you an inch, and take your smile...

Treat or Trick?







.

.


Can you feel the rhythm rise,
but never, ever leaving the ground?
The bridges sway with every song that  they play,
I can barely wait for the sound.

A sonic exhilaration
crosses dreamstates of predecision.
While wild wizards are haranguing the warlocks,
the devil makes a quick incision.

In the hearts that are subdivided,
to those full of James Brown soul-
there's an evil wind that's suddenly pinned
your face to the totem pole.

Echoes from dragons seducing a sigh,
there's an ache to leave in their blood.
Some-
when they run, run far, far away,
while others are still stuck in the mud.

Can you feel the rhythm rise,
but never, ever  leaving the ground?
The bridges sway with every song that  they play,
I can barely wait for the sound.





.

.
Sequestered points of balance,
metal quick to melt down.
Rhythmic explorations
martyr
it's steely style
for melody.

Scraped,
no friction-
sans no science fiction,
because
the whiteness of reality
always winds up
in the light.

Withering apocalyptic
grape clusters
still clinging
fast to the vine as
Bacchus belches
and staggers
away.

Dissimilar similarities
changing continuous like
wild flowers
in the desert.
(One dies, one will rise...)

Life's dependent on
the rain,
allow fluctuation
in your flow of frustration
on your
yellow brick road
of life.









.