Options
Dragons Den Bear With Me
vogonpoetbythelake
Posts: 2,146
Dragons Den Bear With Me
To All the Forgone Id I Ots, Bob, Joseph, John…..
Evil hath no joy like the roses surrounding the daughter, for the thorns they bear give prickling delight and make room for the seeds that bear strings on violins, vibrating, plucking at the hearts of weary travelers, shattering the heavens, opening the trails through heavenly uni versus, tasting the due dew that we may all eat again, fertile realms tented with stars,
To speak of things that have been written, to write of things that have been spoken,
No to torture, suffering is optional, acceptance can not be denied.
Frank Zapped me into a present tense of appreciating the installation of my mind, playful primitive plot, death, ghosts, and goblins laughing at facing fear, dropping the Id, I, ought on its rear.
Living in the Dragons Den I have a bowl where of Dragons I burn, Sweet Grass, Sage, Tobacco, Lavender, Kinnickinick and none of your bees wax.
The Liars Lair is full of stairs and stories layered amongst the sky’s stones, the rain reigns and frogs sing, sometimes they croak as the squirrel gets closer, full boar as the grasshopper leaps into the mouth of the fox or was it coyote?
My table cloth bears dragons fire and the cards of the court, shuffling experience repeated, repleated as it is folded into time to be spread again as Eagles Wings.
To All the Forgone Id I Ots, Bob, Joseph, John…..
Evil hath no joy like the roses surrounding the daughter, for the thorns they bear give prickling delight and make room for the seeds that bear strings on violins, vibrating, plucking at the hearts of weary travelers, shattering the heavens, opening the trails through heavenly uni versus, tasting the due dew that we may all eat again, fertile realms tented with stars,
To speak of things that have been written, to write of things that have been spoken,
No to torture, suffering is optional, acceptance can not be denied.
Frank Zapped me into a present tense of appreciating the installation of my mind, playful primitive plot, death, ghosts, and goblins laughing at facing fear, dropping the Id, I, ought on its rear.
Living in the Dragons Den I have a bowl where of Dragons I burn, Sweet Grass, Sage, Tobacco, Lavender, Kinnickinick and none of your bees wax.
The Liars Lair is full of stairs and stories layered amongst the sky’s stones, the rain reigns and frogs sing, sometimes they croak as the squirrel gets closer, full boar as the grasshopper leaps into the mouth of the fox or was it coyote?
My table cloth bears dragons fire and the cards of the court, shuffling experience repeated, repleated as it is folded into time to be spread again as Eagles Wings.
0