there was a little turtle his shell it had a leekthe rain was getting in he hadnt slept all weekhe was very stressed and he began to cryspotted by an albatross flying near bythe albatross flew down and saw  a little crackrunning down the middle of the turtles backdont worry said the albatross i know the thing to do i will get some leaves and make a shelter just for youthe albatross gathered leaves and made a little tentthen when it was finished in the turtle went.the turtle he was happy now in his tent so deephe curled his shell and caught up with some sleep.

what moves
the
holy ghost
through
our souls
tonight
when
we are
touched by
the
ubiquitous light

life wears on, time flies bythe music is playing in only the greatest of momentsand so seldom, we hear these subtle notesso seldom, we hear these deafening notesA small child, I play lightheartedlythe music is playing, but i dont even noticetoo caught up in whats happening forgetting what actually mattersi grow older, sixteen at lastthe music is playing, blasted loudly in the cartrying to forget the stupidest mistakestrying to go back to the good old dayswhat happened to the good old days?

it was that i was. gurgling a valorous *** of cells at the bottom
of the notched brick habitat of sickly algebra. and i and. with all
the dirt meticulously skeletal. trenchant chaotic lips blathering
skinny vocal animals. the smooth monkeys pinstripe about the
square in my needle city. well and i am an we. with your habitual
pocket of blood and dust in correct lumps small and large proportionately
spitted on your ideal, at my hips your hips(hand in hand). we walk
bythe specific straights towering sky breakers hollering reflective
skin. the neon electric residue of light smacks my eyelets. and
some ****** **** with the night air agreeably. but i,m a yours
and only. yes. so let's make some drips of clear tremulous benedictions
to this vibrant lovely hell

  Torn by the words of carnal foolsLost in seas of filthy thought,Confused by those who slease away And mindlessly contribute nought.Bouncing back and forth the banterWinning points imagined soSubstanceless determined byThe vacuum shown in what they know.How they bruise that thin veneerThe pride, the love, the passion spentIn forging words and sequencesWhich elevate the soul's intent.To wallow in a pool of mireTo lose the grip of good restraintTo demonstrate for all to seeThat worthyness they claim.....just aint !! Marshalg@theBachMangere Bridge1 March 2010