I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Squadrons of sound strafe sleek serenity Innocence lost, every night Listen, it makes you more interesting: coated in cacophony
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Halved so precisely The black egg of fitful sleep Sliced by light's quick knife
What is the difference between people and things? Mere objects; just there being, for a while Never knowing what it is like for beings
You can handle this I made everything golden Falling is easy
What sort of flower needs the protection Of a slightly ridiculous, plumed knight? From what deranged imagination Came this preposterous, floral fight?
Only one fog can Make a human being look Like an animal
Once upon a time Anything could become a Thrilling adventure
Slowly, we drown in noise devoid of a signal Inundated by inanities, we ignore genuine wisdom Lost in loud information, terribly trivial
Understanding is Only required by one Of the forms of love
Four hundred stories Poems, essays, articles Your eyes give them life
Ancient, magic words Ought to be heard more often Mind your own business
Everything we make We can betray, or destroy Or simply forget
