To Pen a Poem

To pen a poem is to sing a song. words take flight and soar carrying aloft, enchanting thoughts to soothe the weary soul. Transporting others - from their troubles shifting gloom,

Cats Called Charlie ( Part 3)

Charles 4th....Ahh

Sitting Here...

Love erases everything
Cherry

sitting on my fathers shoulders

Sitting on my father’s shoulders; Smiling oh so secretly, Watching leaves curl up the roadside, feeling the soothing southern breeze. I felt content upon those shoulders,

temptation

beyond the window sits a door upon whose handle I adore a keyhole glittering set in gold through which are riches yet untold I bow my head and cry out loud through the glass my foot has plowed

distressing leather

they’ve been at it in the basement down below for days now screaming & whipping moaning & suffocating pushing the limits of what they call human sexuo-fetisho-sado-masochistic madness

l’épouse obéissante

“Ephesians 5:22 Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord.” -big fat work of poorly written fiction

coaches & catholic clergy

as the kids begin to come out again to declare the violation of their innocence to the world so that finally these pompous pedophiliac pederasts

The Dead Land: Chapter 3

"But there will always be winners and losers. I only want winners.”

leggingsrscam10@60+com

the beginning of the end....of the story

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