The magic of the night before the morning fog rolled in, sorcerers at work with their hands in the supernatural, the conversion of the trees

Shifting, drifting, colors and sha… my truths, my prose, my charming s… my run-a-way shadows on solid grou… rising and drifting as to heavenly… dressed in rainbow colors and harl…

Silent Sunday is not for the silent ones; those who rely on Sunday worship to think of God. If they can’t hear about him on that day, when can they? What about the rest of the week? Is ...

Viva la Diva, child of song, mover of melodious tears in rivers… harbingers of love, rains of virgi… spreaders of joy, healers of the p… she doctors of the callous spirit,

“Hear ye, hear ye, beholders of th… After winter’s wrath come Spring-… The gardens are all aglow in yello… and red and orange of primordial t… Mother Nature is kind to us once…

Air of the pure blown away as the devil breathed upon the ear… his puffy cheeks full of poison extracted from lethal streams flowing from from his ghoulish hea…

Running With Violence That cause, that secret something That lies beyond my door That something that angered someon… Who I don’t even know

Weaving through life and life of d… Hanging onto fragile threads, I continue on my journey of wonder… Holding onto the real and the imag… The mobile and the immobile,

Broken pieces laying on the ground… egos shattered and hope drained ou… shackles squeezing the joyful hear… tomorrows of bleak winters ahead, idleness creeping into the mind

Deep down inside beyond the scope of judgment, the workplace of the devils or paradise of the angels or the battlefield of the two,

That forbidden island in the mind That nobody wants to visit, Where love has never been And doesn’t want to go, Where seafarers circle around

Herman Glutman of large proportio… laying in a pile of pies’n fortune… reaching for his dinner at half pa… with his belly hang’n out and feet… A man with his hand in the handy h…