i fight number fits, i like 8 bits is a byte.digital infinity, a saros octave of serenity.eighter from decatur, a dead man's hand, a super 8 thrill.ri..
the city of angels is a city of gypsies.a city of folded hands, the oak of golden dreams.what siren called the sagebrush bohemians and wondering hippi..
wearing my heat wave blue straw hathumidity hitting like a brickbatcausing all to take beach chancessweet sweat running down the backblazing sun beati..
"i told them not to plant those seeds. i told all the farmers aroundhere they would one day reap what they had sown. imyself never ate the stuff. yeah..
there is nothing like a southern rantto turn you on your heelsto cause your gut to over boil and pantwe speak our mind with fervant zealit is not the ..
occasionally my iambic pentameter can be off beatan ode could become a sonnet sweeping you off your feetmy lyrical epic falls to prose that is sure to..
looking up to the sun sitting under a treedensity of green in the urban jungle poetryi count the treeshadows reflecting the fractals of lifedistrubute..
remember, how could you forget?etched in the being of our time.prophesied through the years to come alive.the energy felt long before the act.where wa..
the calling of the cold blank page begs for the tenth muse.searching for divine inspiration in random google algorithms.contemporary distractions make..