It can happen again..and again..and again.

Not scary, but it will do.

I was always a virgin in the temple of love, because there was treasure there, and places to dance, walls covered with doodles, and paint moving my imagination in circles, the rain fell through a hole in the ceiling, bells played in the wind, enchantment all about, the purity to clean the soul, and then to slip into the shining waters.

Violence is not the first way to handle things, nor is abuse or pushing people around, no you are called a human, proudly act like one, show your humanity, your sensitivity. Be a friend. Then imitate Bill Hole.

People can benefit from poetry, truly, really. It's not easy to write it. Anyone can try, and fail, and get excited so they can bounce around, but that is wrong, you got to dedicate your life to it, so that it explodes into your life.

We are stronger together, and the world needs more unity.

They used to call us little men.

The dread creature,..was it human? Or composed of hamburger?

The QUEEN has my back.

You want an offline book. Seems likely soon. I was giving up on it until recently. The problem being perfectionism.

I always walk that extra mile or two, and that's my way, pushing my limits, means pushing limits, real innovation, not childish prankish games, a better world, not a new insanity, a world of magic dreams coming to your dream world, not as you wish, but something else, technocolor, onto the gardens of my mind, in a room that smiles back at me, reminding me of a freedom, someday as a small spot appears in the sky, in every color, miracles and wonder.