(2014)
Assessed at -2.8 by poetry assessment.
Clouds sail a vast blue ocean, shapes shifting in that expansive Big Sky.
here is where we chirp, written lines known as tweeting- compressed ideas— Bill D. Johnston (@bedeejay) ...
Work defines the bee? Hives shoul… But entries belong on pages. Companies write mission memos. Souls pen living stages.
Monsters under our beds are phantoms in our heads. Gurus shout such ghosts at our ear… and fears.
The archer aims, hoping it is true. The arrow flies. Is the eye hit new?
dropplets, dropping down, sinking slowly in soil are Mother’s helpers.
I went to Coin Lent to get some money pumped. But all my cash I spent, and all my cred was dumped.
haiku are headlines reporting mother nature the insight stories
The End will come too soon. Watch the land. Watch the seas Watch the skies for signs, for it… The End.
Snow melts. Waterfalls streaming rivulets off roofs slake the thirsty ground.
got my surfboard out and rode the photon waves: googled out!
lowly paid pawns moved and sacrificed on the board– minimum wage slaves
Broken by the vampires who suck life from souls with minimums that keep tires spinning in muck.
I want to plan and to defer to my future. But, I dream and am caught by my desire.
winter mirror mysterious prints at crosstime junction
Bill D. Johnston
2aAssessed at -2.8 by poetry assessment.