The mist curls around the trees
Whispering secrets to the breeze
The shadows creep around
Silencing all sound
The leaves shiver in the dark
Searching for the stars
The wind dances through the grass
Gathering bits of glass

THE cypress trees there translate
season into color.

A line of boulevards for guests like
me: a hungry one.

I may know what it is
they plan.

Splash and swish. Sweet. Ripples and
breezy. Lyrical.

After the song I used to remembered
and always wanted to hear.

I may know what it is
whispered the water to the wind.

People are opinionated

but it's never fact

They're so quick to pick

at you and say what you lack

They'll say all sorts about you

Especially as you glow

But their words are wind

Take it and let it go

Success can say one thousand words. Ever had a moment of success in your life and some former friend, or someone you know and loathe say crap about you? We live in a world that judges no matter what the hell you do. Their opinions are invalid. All that matters is what you see and think of yourself.

There is a beauty
The colours change and leaves fall
Beautiful autumn

Trees and plant of green
The leaves turn orange and brown
And wilting flowers

There is a beauty
Only seen in autumn wind
And beauty in death

Haikus from my journal. There is a beauty that all seasons have. Autumn's beauty is in the colours of death

Adventure is waiting to be the cynosure of natural limerence,
where road-trippers and explorers will ease to the side,
watching as the sun meets the tide.

Star BG Jul 17

Whispering from within I feel the wind quench my vessel.
Energies empower voice to sing.
Lungs fill vibrating love.
And as I merge with wind.
moments drift like sand in hourglass.
Sands that are like seeds of dreams.

A H S Jul 16

A world gone AWOL

Day by day
Present but not

Head in the clouds
Fingertips in space

English gets replace
By Lingo

Social means
Multiple screens

Likes get more
Attention than hugs
And kisses

Modesty is out
Out the window

Lost beyond the
Horizon

Romance lost in
The wind

Floating past all the cheaters
And hookers

Natural beauty
Turned into

False lashes
And counterfeit
Eyebrows

Needles
Knives

For what

A doll
Likes

A bunch of sticks
Walking themselves
To death

Tell me
What is the point
Of wearing nipple covers
And knickers
Or transparent dresses

A world gone AWOL

Oh shit.

alan Jul 14
Why

I walk down the stone steps with a heavy heart
and I admire the placement of the stones.
I see the crushed skulls of those before my time ,
they must haunt their familys' minds, and drag down their hearts
as so often happens to those who suffer loss.
They leave everything they ever knew, and didn't,
because what they knew wasn't what they needed,
instead it hurt them and they decided to leave.
How strange it is that we cannot easily reach through the cracks of a broken heart, it doesn't seem they know how to protect it, yet,
I can't tell if I make it inside or they just satisfy my desires
by pretending.
That is all they seem to do; pretend.
I head over to the graves, I don't belong here, do I?
The wind says otherwise, it is calling out my name
in slow and silent whispers that encircle my body.
I add to the wind my heavy meaningless breath,
the breath of living death.

Wrote this on my new typewriter, it's a used Webster XL 747 and it came last night which was sooner than I expected, I'm quite happy with it and most of the buttons work except for one that is by a dent in the side. So anyways, um, about the poem, I don't know.
Paul Jones Apr 29

A lone wanderer,      forgotten by time,
I throw myself like      dust into the wind.

23:30 - 29/04/17
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