(2013)
Monsters under our beds are phantoms in our heads. Gurus shout such ghosts at our ear… and fears.
here is where we chirp, written lines known as tweeting- compressed ideas— Bill D. Johnston (@bedeejay) ...
Pick up those cups. Embrace those days full of flavors. Savor every single drop. Drink up.
Burned flesh in the nostrils, napalm nightmare haunting the brain, destroys the rhythm of life.
haiku are headlines reporting mother nature the insight stories
dropplets, dropping down, sinking slowly in soil are Mother’s helpers.
Once we had a happy planet with apogees and perigees.
gentle breeze on the beach– sudden rain
I huffed my ego, by pouring me into it– She popped my balloon.
She collected rainbows. She stored sunshine. She put moonlight away. She made stars into a crown. She drew picture clouds.
I went to Coin Lent to get some money pumped. But all my cash I spent, and all my cred was dumped.
The archer aims, hoping it is true. The arrow flies. Is the eye hit new?
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.
zombie scientist starves while doing his research humane substitutes
