In a container.

The papers pile high

Something hides within

To bring you back again

Nothing murky in the waters

All was said and done correctly

A bus is fading with each block

As bricks fall on roof tops

Had they anything but smiles

From untainted heads

And fountain pens.

Hobgoblins in the sand..

Oh well wisher

Fisher of men

Hoarder

And ship ashore

Fabrics in flames

New storm unleashed

Shoes trash badly

Unleashed wild dog

Running free.

Shall you and I?

Touch the golden dust behind the sky

And not by clever means do anything

Yet never wear a thong,  but bounce into a wall of thorns

To be the quite and not scream then envision the dream of wonderment

This to was thongless, yet perfectly silent.

Strange Times indeed.

Years go by and hands wave

It is sadly okay as they fade.

Fighting for what is right, why?

Doing the right thing, why?

Wanting fairness and justice, why?

Caring about people getting hurt for no reason, why?


Why not?

Why not?

Why not?

Why not?


Censorship is being done to this post about censorship...

How ironic!