Wonderful View XXIX

Ran aground on this untamed, barren, forlorn, and persistently hateful place decades ago, one starts to wonder if everybody was also ‘stirred’ to be here by some sort of universal enchantress?

A siren that coils and uncoils the titillating peak and pulses of the spear and cup, ensuring that even more and more shall ran aground, in this desolation… 

Good Sleep Bunny

I took the feathers of fluffy weather

Until it rains all the tears and cries 

Of a thousand feathers torn 

Off fluffy bunnies, kept in leather

Plucked and cast down the depths of filth 

An empty din of tatter 

Unknown by weather

The Perfect Balance

When time passes by, I do long for the fuzzy 70s. The time when that illusive balance of ‘defiance’ and ‘faith’ lingers so beautifully in art and music…

As fuzzy as the rapes at Woodstock, the pretty long hairs of Manson’s girls, the piled cadavers on Jim Jones’ happy little hippie town...