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Riverfront path, lined with trees
The Temple, fresh flowers and incense
Peculiar the fragrance
Sound of Incantations and ringing bells
From a different time
Distant, yet so closely familiar
The memory of this place
"Suspense is like a woman. The more left to the imagination, the more the excitement."

A mixture
of sinister and sweet,
smoking gun at your feet.
Reclining dead
in a meadow,
or wishing you were
as you gaze out your window.

Bottling undecided dark,
catching keyed-up light,
in random, misleading angles.
The uniform hour
holds Grace, Grant,
and the mystery
it entangles.

Don't look directly
at the camera,
icy blonde afterimage.
Everything you need
is written on the page.
Number 13,
Mrs. Peabody?
Don't you know
all contemporary
escapist entertainment
begins by turning your back?
Lingering on what
suspicious minds track.

The migrating voyeurism
sits as the crow,
wired and unfriendly.
The method is an organism,
an implication, a crossbow,
thought, but unseen.
He will push the girl,
until you succumb
to dream sequences.
It's snowing humiliation
at Winter's Grace,
for out of the male gaze,
invading your space,
you become gifted
at doing nothing well,
in sheer
under-things,

(for inner circles & triangles of fur
are all the rage in Europe).

Yes, he hates pregnant women,
because then they have children.
So leave him
to his work,
to analyze your handwriting,
and build that ramp
directly into your trailer.

His larger than life silhouette
will fill the silver screen
with tension,
trip wire,
and a ****** ambivalence,
that ends with
the violent sound
of someone
packing a suitcase.

He enters by virtue of this door,
and you leave through another,
and another,
and another,
until the final scene
alters your state of mind.

Your pretty little feet
dangling precariously
over the edge...

We are all but
Images
In the eyes of others
perceived
In one’s own
believed
The truth
The lies
Dire
Premise
Fire and ice
Sugar and spice
Ingredients to life
Diluted
Created
Distilled
Images
Either vent out whatever is boiling inside you and extinguish that fire that is burning your soul and heart or keep quiet with deliveries of fake smiles and live your whole life as a pyre.
Choose wisely !
Just a motivational quote.....
the colors of spring
emerge from winter's cocoon
of white snow wrapping


Strangely

It is

People

Versus / For

People

Mostly missing

“All”
Trying to be a part of all
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