#lifeinmotion
Strike like a dove with boxing gloves,
And mop up the trepidation
That spills from your mouth.
Punch into the heart of fear
And leap from the cloud that cascades
Into thunderous rapture.
Dance into the bossom of peace
And let freedom be your compass;
That guides you toward enlightenment.
The plumage of your soul is ruffled
By the ecstasy of the marching wind,
And the comprehensive gallop of hope
that stomps in the psyche,
flows fancifully from the hip.
strike like a dove with boxing gloves,
Climb into your spirit and let her rip.
To dance, to feel, to love.
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 7:45 PM UTC
Thou art the sunlight
That trickles off the
Rippled water.
Thou art the sweetness
Of beauty.
Thou art the spirit of
The trees,
The whistling sound of
The wind,
And I catch thee
Like I would catch a fish.
With a scream of
Delightful madness.
Only to let thee go again.
Back into the sea,
Back into thy divine
Peace.
Only I wait,
For you to catch my bait,
In some other dream.
Mar 9, 2021
Mar 9, 2021 at 7:14 PM UTC
The end of the cigarette
Burns off spaghetti strings,
While one eye is on the soup.
My shoes, which by the way
Are on my feet,
Swizzle and spin
As the thermometer bursts
From the heat of the kitchen.
The stars can be seen
Through the roof,
As the freezer lets off steam,
And I reach into my pocket
And pull out a rock,
Which I crush with my bare hands.
Feb 26, 2021
Feb 26, 2021 at 2:59 PM UTC
We do solemnly swear;
That forever more,
We shall live in a world
All on our own.
A world that consists of
Pure pleasure,
And unequivocal harmony.
That will last forever,
And a Sunday.
And so from this day forth,
We shall exude the richness
Of the heavens,
In ways that are applicable to life
In the most profound way imaginable.
Which will inevitably,
Echo forever more
In the laughing sounds
Of matrimony.
Blessed our velvet tongues,
For we speak the weight of gold,
And sing like angels,
Whispering enchanting dreams,
And dancing on clouds.
Jul 12, 2020
Jul 12, 2020 at 1:12 PM UTC
Mrs. Suspicious,
Was doing the dishes,
And was worried
About the spider in the bath.
So she called on her husband,
Who sorts out problems
By the dozen, and yelled:
‘Get the monster on the march!'
So he got out his shotgun,
And thought this will be much fun,
And he made his way slowly
As he laughed.
But the spider was gone,
As he searched on and on,
But had no such luck as time passed.
'So did you find the spider?'
'No dear he slipped by us'
The spider made hiding an art.
Mrs. Suspicious baked a cake,
And with delight they both ate,
Of which the spider was a part.
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 5:51 PM UTC