06-12-2013, 11:50 PM
hmmm. hiking,
where to go on this bodacious blue
bird day. pictures to take,
wishes to pray.
all my wishes have come true,
for the most part. prayer
sometime feels like a wart.
if only healing can be answered
by prayer, and not only
by you.
Jackson, Mr Storm I may presume.
How I use an old life to seek refuge
from the thunder of life. Bang,
it goes loudly. Our laughter gangs
softly, in the beautiful breeze
of the bountiful bob marshal.
i wish i could take back god,
or what was left of his creation.
my imagination was lethal with
delusional constitutional seclusion.
hiking, finally. i can take a hike
at last.
i wonder if mr. storm will like
the striking he can easily hike.
the mossy greens, mixed with the dry.
sandwiches abundant, sorry no rye.
"Why, did you pick this summit?"
mr. storm said with a laugh.
well storm, i say with a gash.
no wound will stop me from
climbing to the top. i dont need
heaven to tell me. all the things
my mind has forgot. because
i know this is not made up.
and so i am i. not made up
of bread nor rye.
where to go on this bodacious blue
bird day. pictures to take,
wishes to pray.
all my wishes have come true,
for the most part. prayer
sometime feels like a wart.
if only healing can be answered
by prayer, and not only
by you.
Jackson, Mr Storm I may presume.
How I use an old life to seek refuge
from the thunder of life. Bang,
it goes loudly. Our laughter gangs
softly, in the beautiful breeze
of the bountiful bob marshal.
i wish i could take back god,
or what was left of his creation.
my imagination was lethal with
delusional constitutional seclusion.
hiking, finally. i can take a hike
at last.
i wonder if mr. storm will like
the striking he can easily hike.
the mossy greens, mixed with the dry.
sandwiches abundant, sorry no rye.
"Why, did you pick this summit?"
mr. storm said with a laugh.
well storm, i say with a gash.
no wound will stop me from
climbing to the top. i dont need
heaven to tell me. all the things
my mind has forgot. because
i know this is not made up.
and so i am i. not made up
of bread nor rye.
Only one thing is impossible for God: To find any sense in any copyright law on the planet.
--mark twain
Bunx
--mark twain
Bunx