Trying to make sense of the universe around us. The mistakes of yesterday are today’s wisdom.
Death is drastic Dramatic It is somehow everything, And nothing, at the same time Where do these thoughts, Our projections, come from?
By P.A. Wilkinson2 years ago in Poets
I like the darkness It is soothing Calm Quiet A few lampposts illuminate the empty street Outside my window There is peace
I’ve been wandering on my own For a long while now Waiting for my soul to grow Let the music show me how I’ve found
there is something about you... physically speaking spiritually... you are something special but physically I have an image
Applaud the privileged Who usher large crowds Follow the rich Who’s money leads us down A meandering road of illusion
Weak, So damn weak Is the judgment of my intoxicated eye Sometimes I’ve fallen into a pit of consumption And now I long only for more
as I was searching for something to write about a pigeon landed on the table beside me pecking at whatever he deemed to be grub
Im sick of perfume I want to smell life I want to smell the stink That nature designed . I want to smell dirt That shows me you planted a flower
By P.A. Wilkinson3 years ago in Poets
Do you long for romance? Do you know what it means? Do you wish for care, kisses and warm loving dreams? Someone to hold
Keep those Irish eyes smiling Though they’re sunken and tired Tomorrow brings a new light Let those hungry eyes catch a fire
I walk Aimlessly through a crowd This place Is a familiar place Somewhere I’ve been before The details of the room are vague and dissimilar from my memory
