Yes, my dear, you know,
You are my source of joy, rejuvenation, hope
I need your emotion spread onto my life,
I need your heart to sing among the darkness surrounding
Do not let our words run dry
Together, in strength, we will always know
And now you know,
So smile, be joyous, and kiss these candid truths
For they proclaim your greatness to the universe
In shouts of glory, in loving whispers,
On every shine of ocean shivers,
You will always know
I love you for you
To all my poetic friends, this poem is dedicated to you! This includes: David Breidenthal, Sharon Breidenthal, Rebecca Larkin, Justin A. Bordner, Just That Archaic Poet(Chan), HGarvey Daniel Esquire, James Peranteau, Guillermo Soto, Mystic Rose(Vienna), Dan Kearley, Liam Mcdaid, Kim Patrice Nunez, Rob S, Jack Ellison, Duke Beaufort, Drake Eszes(Gabriel), Davina Browne, Gary Bateman , Kyle Carlson, John Fleming, Peter Walsh, Sarah Kendrick, Jade Celeste(Eileen), Mikey Scribner, Bindu Vijayan, Don Johnson, Jake Ponce, FJ Thomas, Jan Allison, Emile Pinet, Honestly J.T, Stephen Kilmer, SKAT A, Tim Ryerson, Richard Lamoureaux, Maurice Yvonne, Giorgio A.V, Lyric Man, Mustapha Mohammed, Justin Connor, Tim Smith, Poet Destroyer A (Linda), Olive Eloisa Guillermo, James Marshall Goff, Hannington Mumo, scott thirtyseven, Judy Kronos, Eve Roper, Sandra Haight, Gautami Phookan, Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, Connie Marcum Wong,Rightly Jennings
Nathan Fehr, Devin Irving, Robert L. Hinshaw, Ralph Taylor,Tanja Vermaak,Nicole Viernes,Neva Romaine, Anne Lise Andreson, Nandita Das, Funom Makama, Kevin Leake, Tammy Reams, Dean Marais, David Meade, Debbie Guzzi, Peter Holmes, Sunflower Poetess, Dr.Upma A. Sharma, William Gray, Rajat Kanti Chakraba Rty, Courtney Courtney, Cherl Dunn, David Brown, Casarah Nance, Paul Callus, Ronald Zammit, Jiril Clemons, Carl Fraser, Afolabi Muideen, Dr. Ram Mehta, Shadow Hamilton, Donovan Willis, Cynthia Ferguson, Ed Ebbs, Nette Onclaud, Cindy Cayton, Wayne Riley, Muhammad Safa Thajudeen, Sheri Fresonke Harper, Yeisiel Rios, Chelsea Chords, David Mohn, Gerald Moise, Verlena S. Walker, Kelly Deschler, Ettie Christian, Arild Andresen Ertsland, Malik Yaseen, Kurdt Cohen, Arlene Smith, Karl Marszalowicz, Pace INK-U-SCRIPT, Elly D. A. Wouterse, Pandita Sanchez, Elisabeth Wesley, Carrie Richards, John Loving iii, Andrea Dietrich, Chris D. Aechtner, Robert Petitt, Jay Loveless, KJ Force, Vicky Tsiluma, Craig Cornish, Johnney Rhinem, Keith Bickerstaffe, David Scott, The Situation, Red Fiery, Painted Hunter, Harry Horseman, Edward Orozco, Wayland Bunch, Wally Flint ,James Horn...and so many more!!!
In a dark room music plays with a slow beat,
the neon lights make you white panties and bra look like a street.
You move your body slowly and so sexy to the music,
while i look at you threw the darkness of the room set.
A big silver gun on my hip and a mountain of coke on the table,
and nothing can distract me from the beauty i see dancing so stable.
Your every move hypnotizes me,
I think I am going blind cause i am beginning not to see.
I look at your hair how it waves there so perfectly,
your legs move just like i want them to, so delicately.
You touch your breasts and you hold your but,
you give me that look in your eyes like your not wanting to stop.
You unbutton your bra and cover your breasts with your palms,
the music dies down a little and calms.
You walk up to me and than music begins to play,
that's when you start moving your body on top of me and asking me to stay.
You kiss my ear and rub my legs,
your breast rub against my inner pains.
You feel me harder than a rock,
than you decide to grind my cock.
Your body moves so sexy and slowly to the music that i played,
my body is shaking from all the excitement that is payed.
You go in for the big finish, and i tell you to get back up,
cause a lady like you should do all that kind of crap.
Be with me, be with a BOSS,
Who cares if the people i killed ever took a loss.
Dedicated to all the woman of the world.
PS: You are not trash, you are not ......... you are precious jewels. Stay that way ladies. I love you all.
The Warrior On Top The Mountain
Swings His Sword Like A Legend
Though I'm Skilled In Combat
Let These Words Teach You A Lesson...
Some Avoid War Because
They Could Lose In The End
I Avoid War Because
What I Will Destroy Just To Win....
It Is Better To Let The Hate Move On
And Let The Love Stand Still
To the Children of the World
You, little pounding drums of hope,
Who echo the dreams of a myriad years,
You, unyielding sparkles of wisdom,
Who answer the prayers of billions of hearts,
You, fortifying steps of eternity,
Who erect the aspirations of fallen souls,
Past, present and future have turn their,
Glittering eyes upon you,
Expecting you to march on, with all your energy,
Under the banner of inspiring love,
Conquering humanity’s unconquered
Demolishing divisions’ un-demolished
And building, the unbuildable up to
New Loving World!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
Bloom! Bloom! O! This evermore wintry tide
Whisper litanies, wondrous lullaby,
Caress skins in that comely way you ride
Marvels of seasoned rind of litany;
As you march avidly, a lone Magi
Desert of roofs blend, your trusty drummers
Quench their arid taste, dust tongues scream, twist, prancing
About. Cadence of words dry
Like fire throat, miles ran, visage of radar
Bridge and brace me to hearken, phone ringing!
Like the soft warmth that never try to hide
Of noon-lake, a swift cut of knife sharply
Through yam, perfect sequence of each slide,
Slices of ease drop, manna fall creamy
Upon eyelids-vertigo turn up sly.
I’m butterfly, cocooned in your fingers,
Spell the craze of disturbed markets racing.
Noxious nostrils, cold nigh
To spill chilly globules, tobacco tars
Ebb cursive; somnolent steps receding.
Now I am soft like tender foliage wide
To stark sun rays, woman splayed, slippery.
Rapture, I incline to your meshed inside
Grant that laughter of a nude history
Where specters feast, their bliss and empty sigh;
Anodyne rings of mirth with diameter
Copious, contempt of your feet pattering;
So my answer is wry.
Louse, I latch to the phone, sweet chat linger
Till rain cast her nest; am I lost dreaming?
First Place in Cyndi Macmillan's Contest.
Started off so small
Growing so tall
Put Smiles on my face
In my head its Amazing
Hoping you won't be a static
Changing in every great way
Its because my princess growing into
My queen you give me hope
Dignity and self efficiency you
will be someone Great I owe
it to GOD he gave me a princess
growing into A queen
You are my light shining when
I'm in the dark
You make me not
want a father not need one
I got you my princess
Growing into A queen
I'm going to raise you right
Tell you everyday how beautiful
You don't need to hear it from a
You are my princess growing
Into a queen thanking you for
Giving me hope and pride to
What would I do if
I lost you, God forbid
that come true
Your my life when
there is no hope
You give me strength when
There is no time
Princess don't worry you won't
Lose me to drugs,prostitution
Addiction and Eviction
I'm here to stay
Because my princess
Growing into a Queen
I will make Great decisions
Mianna you are my Princess
Growing Into A Queen
To pick-up and to receive
In the Anointment
A moment of the
By His goodness
And by His grace
A second with
> GOD <
Ties' a wonder thing
For which we long await...
A dream' come true..
For Me and You
A blessing from the Lord
A gift from all time'
To dwell with-in His favor
Beyond the Most Holy
The most Divine
To fellowship with GOD
The recoveries' of the BLESSINGS'
That He should bring
The mere Act of His touch
That is not a breech of Reality
But, a COVENANT that which
We need so much
To be in touch with Jesus
And to Thee, to be, Amen
REST IN PEACE CORONATION STREET
It is with real sadness and deep regret that we announce the death of Coronation Street. Born in December 1960 in a back street in Manchester, it grew up to become the most watched and best-loved series on television. Noted for all its wit, sharp storylines and strong characters, Coronation Street was unmissable. Fans flocked to Granada Studios to see the place of its birth, and videos of its life and times sold in their thousands.
Millions of fans adored its residents, which included Ena Sharples and Elsie Tanner, whose presence and confrontations on screen crackled and mesmerised; the unforgettable Hilda and Stan Ogden who knew their place (deep in our hearts); and Ken and Deirdre with their continual rows and love interests. For years, it entertained and reigned supreme, regularly topping the viewing charts.
But, almost unnoticed, Coronation Street became ill. An occasional deviation from the script here, a far-fetched storyline there, and the introduction of characters who seemed to have lost their way en route to an Eastenders audition. Fans noticed. What was happening?
In denial, Coronation Street refused to go to the doctor. Gradually its main characters were usurped and suffocated as ‘modern families’, and ‘storylines relevant to today’ took over.
A cancer of political correctness set in. Terminally stricken, Coronation Street grew worse and, unable to watch the death of an old friend, viewers deserted it. There were many at the funeral: scriptwriters who thought, wrongly, that they could raise the dead, and actors and actresses who were glad of the work but knew little of the deceased.
The real Coronation Street was brilliant in its day. Now, friends of the late series can only mourn: they thought it would go on for ever. No flowers by request, but a donation to any organisation teaching scriptwriting would be most appreciated.
Green is the color
of the wildest meadows that stun the roving eye!
Green is the color
of the evergreens in our home at Christmastime!
Green is the color
of the scented garland pinned on my front door to welcome friends!
Green is the color
of the breath-taking Alps in Italy, Austria, Switzerland and France!
Green is the color
of the rolling hills in Tuscany that sway over small picturesque towns!
Green is the color
of the pines I admire when I stroll along paths with delightful sounds!
Green is the color
of the proud Irish on each Saint Patrick's day!
Green is the color
of Central Park where many New Yorkers play!
Green is the color
of everyone who loves Nature in all its grand beauty as much as I do!
Green is the color
of the olive branch that the gentle dove carries all the way through!
Sandy is why
to take heed
and move your guise
is in the sky
silver is the color
and the money is fly
it’s in the love
that I’m writing
Oh, you daughters and sons of Man,
Latent heralds of truth,
Oh, you pioneers of hope, peace and mercy,
Sleeping apostles of compassion,
Wake up and join our ever-expanding ranks of love,
You, solemn knights of light,
For it is time that darkness sounds retreat,
Beyond the boundaries of earth!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
24 NOVEMBER 2012
I do not know?
I should have listened.
Alas, I was lost in the crowd.
You may not have said that you loved me,
there was never a reason for it to be said aloud.
I should have known better.
I kept pushing you away.
Your patience was tested,
till we each went,
on our own separate way.
Now the years have vanished.
I am grey and older.
I may not miss you all that much,
yet each day seems colder.
Time has not eased anything.
Yet I have no reasons for regret.
Days come and go as always,
but somehow I am unable to forget.
So forgive me if you can.
Not an easy task given my past.
Though I may be unable to absolve myself,
the void I feel is permanent,
my loss shall forever last.
wet behind the ears
soldiers screwed beyond their years
displaced from their “Barbies and Babies”
KILL ‘EM ALL!
programmed to forget
about what ifs
SEEK AND DESTROY!
when deployed, "Boy go!"
Erase your youth
now you’re real damn men!
geddem’ G.I. JOE!
the present is your rifle
so don’t blink about the past
enemies are better dead
so spray them AK’s fast
grab the phone and tell your Mom
you’re comin’ home insane (or in a box)
like our boys in Vietnam!
Through a world of discordance, I found You.
From bane to bliss, You lifted me.
With a soul so resonate Your words.
With a spirit so lifted in jubilant assent.
In resonance of Your divine touch I praise
With peace I am saved by Your grace
The middle class here can't be saved
When 0.001% act so depraved
Their wealth without end
These royals* still pretend
Did not come from us—their
*The Royals: CEOs, Banksters, Revolving Door Regulators, The FED, Congressmen for sale, Lobbyists, Board Members of Big Corporations, Major Shareholders who vote for these Board
Members, Corrupt Managers, Dishonest Used Car Salesmen, Presidential Candidates with more than two Residences, Elected Presidents (and their lackeys who pretend to regulate but look the other way)
**The Enslaved: Workers, Career Regulators who are trying to protect the public, Honest Hard Working Citizens, Students--some with oppressive loans, Immigrants, Soldiers, Police, Firemen and Firewomen, Parents, Children, Orphans, Disabled, The Sick, Small Business Owners (who don’t hire lobbyists), Volunteers, Health Care Workers, Welfare Recipients, Inventors, Investors, Entrepreneurs, Actors, Artists, Journalists who do in-depth investigation (not like those with FOX News, ABC Radio or many other of the outlets where they mouth the status quo), Non Profit Corporations, Charities, Teachers, Transportation Workers, Waiters and Waitresses, Dishwashers, Servants, Farmers, Managers, Ship Hands, Cooks, Unemployed
Author' s Note: Have been at Occupy Wall Street 8 days in the past two months--which is why I haven't been here--plus I have to work. Miss you all, but it's for a good cause. I am very briefly seen on Conan's feature: Triumph the Insult Comic Dog at Occupy Wall Street if you are looking for some humor with a little umph.
< oh ode old ode please come to me
illuminate frowned smiles
rejuvenate twinkle in eye
your task steady fast my old ode
your victory renowned thus crowned
soothing as childs teething bisquit
your demeanor captivating
Just breathe in the clarity
Clarity of the whole
Whole or negativity
Negativity eating your soul
Head for tomorrow
Tomorrow always waits
Waits for enlightenment
Enlightenment heals mistakes
You are where you’ve put yourself
Your “SELF” now reminds you of shame
Shame brought on by acting out thoughts
Thoughts a conscious shouldn't retain
Give yourself an apology
An Apology you deserve to have
Have some faith in your timing
Timing bleeds wisdom in man
Bless your self and live righteous
Righteous spirits rise above
Above all if you are kind
Kind souls conquer hate with love
Poetry brings torment to a halt
Halt all your never-ending thoughts
Thoughts are forbidden evil hiding
Hiding light inside divine spots
So please write down your own deep thoughts
Thoughts penned will conquer your inside trap
Trap your life up in your cell all alone
Alone you shall stay smelling your crap~
please don't be offended by the last line~
I felt it was necessary to get my point across~
Many a pretty woman - and not so pretty woman
has wanted to "tie the knot"
Fool that I am I never did - I avoided the "tender trap"
However - and this is very important
I have taken up the craft of poetry
Which as you know out there in the darkness
can lift you up into the stratosphere - if you let it
So, poetic brothers and sisters
Dry your tears, you will all too soon be in a place where love and hate do not exist
Peace Peace Peace
In the full light of a warriors plight,
Sometimes it becomes a case of being slighted and being Aright,
Its a case of solemn thinkings to soothe this anguish and its deeprooted pain,
Do see things from the Warrior's point of view,
He sees Life as a kaleidoscopic dreamy paraphrase,
Roasting Angernuts and storing them aways as Groundnuts stored in airtight
For when his flesh is pricked his thunderous clap resounds for eight villages and
His most favorite son supplies his fill-ins of heavily spiced and stuffed roasted
His most loving and caring daughter never allows his fresh kicking "House and
Bush fly saluted" Palmwine to cease its awesome flow,
His youngest and most active wife sits at his left side to wrap his "wisdom
fumes" in its tobacco sheath...Marijuana never tasted more spiritual from her very
He loves the looks on his strongheaded sons' face as they sit in gossip to roast
his yellow sweet corns,
The feel of roasted corn blended with the "wise fumes" arising from this
Marijuana spliff all wetted down with the Imperial fluidity of palmwine.
Drinking this two mouthfuls of the enemy chief's blood at battle never felt any
For you it would be constant anguished Bed tossing,
Draping my palace in Human skulls and rare animal skins,
Writing for Kings, Knights and their Monks,
Writing for Spliffs, Chieves and their Drunks,
Writing for Owls, Dragons, Angels and their Wings,
Knowing full well your brain might learn to take its rightful Literary place,
We must have moved with this much a-blaze,
We will slow down for you to sip in this page's full intake,
Not a case of primitive battle acclaims,
Just a feel of the Martial spirit though,
The warrior's many many songs yet unsung,
His life and times,Do keep within your salient confines.
...a darling dear of time is when the tick-tock, of the clock stops, during a dancing wind chimes rendition of just how invisible things move me, to write, darling dear a rhyme,
the peak of a mountain top experiencing,
O' darling dear
a love letter,
just one of those things that
of the everlasting.
Oh how can one capture
Your beauty on paper
Without you evaporating
Off as it is your nature
The stars are your jewels
The moon is your crest
As if blessed
Your silence is serenity
That whisper to my thoughts
An overwhelming beauty
That ties my stomach up in knots
How humble I am sound
A beauty incomparable
With a radiance so profound
Your absence is unbearable
There is nothing in this world that i can possibly think of or think of doing to tell you how much I love you.
You are so sweet to me, i can't almost stand it wen you call me handsome and cute, cause it sounds so sweet to me.
If there is anything in this world that you can think of for me to prove my love to you, just name it. I will be all over that in a flash.
Even though we didn't get to see each other for very long cause of my dumb ass, that was still what i wanted to see today really bad. Looking into your BEAUTIFUL green eyes today was like looking into Gods heaven.
The only thing that is missing is your touch on my skin. I probably would not be able to hold it in me and take a hold of you by your waist and press you against me, and than the smell of your hair would turn me on to the BREAKING POINT.
I would start by kissing down your neck and curress your neck with my tong.
Than while curressing your body, I would start slipping my hands under your shirt, and under your bra and upon your perfect titties.
Than i would start pulling your bra and shirt off at the same time and begin kissing your titties. Kiss them all the way down to your belly button and back up to your face.
When i would lift your upon my hips i would carry you to the bed and start kissing you back down your titties and your ribs and your belly button and than an inch lower passed your belly button just to get you a little more wet and wanting.
To Be Continued.
Set for Contest!
Coffee in a cup, makes a cup of coffee;
just as an aroma from within, makes the air,
smell of flowers in the spring
...a sweet thing, like sugar cane is to the tasting,
and the tasting is to stirring the dream,
making flavored coffee
a drink in the morning.
Sons and Daughters
Sons and Daughters
Sons and Daughters
We want them here
Sons and Daughters
They are all our
Sons and Daughters
Such heavy artillery,
To whom shall we run,
To God have we come,
In pain and sad form,
To state our hearts' deform,
To stake our rights and reforms,
You know that where two Elephants fight the grass suffers,Do be well informed,
My youngmen you have been, deeply misinformed,
My insane Leaders and their wanting to negotiate a arms surrender,
Mines! Please do deactivate those heating "Death crumbs",
See the most hit at war having mucored loafs in luxury and style,
Locale Warlords feasting on roasted swine,Marijuana's wisdom and four gallons
Only the rich and mighty are are afforded the luxury of flying their families abroad,
We see vivid pictures of crime and business working in consortium,
Drugs and Arms circulation,
Or shooting the innocents,Genocide!
The world powers sidewatching as if they lack 'Parties' to side,
or on which peace steps to decide,
Please my Brothers-in-arm let's put hate aside,
Or on what "PEACE" plans to carryout from the inside,
Histories that co-incide.
Come! Peace and at this market-square shame war,
Peace do come and defy war,
The gory memory of steaming blood on his matchete,
Or my deafened eardrums beaten soft by these insultive BOMBS.
In war man's dearest friends are Sickness,Starvation and Illiteracy,
Learning the precious ways of The Ants,Bugs,Monkeys and electric fish,
Ladies and how they learnt their lesson in prostitution,
Beer bottles or bullets sealing the evidences,
My ink,My quail, and this page,
Cant tell, If in your age this will be read off Golden scrolls on diamond podiums,
Writing not for this time but for generations yet unborn,
Read the annals of history and learn that all who started a war or abetted
one,Worship and Kiss the devil in the anus,
Or they are Madmen-in-coats-and-Briefcases, Smoking piped marijuana in the
Do you think I loved to kiss the red lips of rage,
Or suck the succulent bossom of 'Hate the Mother-adder',
War sets the bait,
Guerillas set the pace,
Government gorillas hold the day,
Youths and guns,
Maids and nails,
Only the dead can see the end of war,
Not only deep breath can still the tremors of bombs,
Or greed the might of crumbs,
May God's almighty blessings be bestowed on Relief,Aid,Donor and Charity
Agencies that stand the risks of war and its deaths.
Wars are a confirmation of a Civilization in Rust.
Walking away might be the most hardest things for a man to do,
you cant even imagine what that feeling can do to you.
Falling flat on your face would be better than to look shameful,
even walking around naked around the streets would be cool.
But like any story in life goes, there is always that one person that will help you get back on your feet and walk again.
No matter how much you fall, no matter how much you stumble upon a struggle, that person will be there with you till the end.
Give love and thanks to this person who never leaves your side and helps you put a smile on your face everyday.
When the day comes to an end and you know that the person has to go, all you can wish is for your special person to stay.
Mine has walked away on me,
I was so blind that i couldn't see.
She wanted everything for her self, for me to change and be what she wanted me to be,
but i had to let her go and never see this person again, cause it would only be worse in the end.
Writing this is more painful than getting your body tattooed,
writing this is more painful than getting over screwed.
Writing this is more painful than words,
writing this is more painful than razor sharp swords.
No matter how much you try to let it out it just wouldn't come out,
the pain is way to deep and its almost like its tattooed on your bodies gout.
haven't i been hurt enough in this world, i just don't understand why i am being treated like this,
is it cause i am better than you and have nothing to look forward too but my blue and black handkerchief?
The cut was way to deep my dear, you just cant imagine,
i have been cut and bruised for the last time, i can promise you that.
No one will ever touch this body or hurt this soul ever again,
if you wish to try so, go ahead and check it, but before that go ahead and get yourself a casket.
It does not cast a shadow,
Nor does it judge, mimic, or belittle,
But it is full of emotion,
When expressed, time stands still,
Ubiquitous to society,
And inspired by nature,
More valuable than gold,
But cannot be spent,
More real than the stars,
But cannot be seen nor touched,
It can calm the most incorrigible of people,
And create passion in the most stoic souls,
It remains the same,
But is constantly changing,
And is older than life,
But will never age nor die,
To move by it is beautiful,
But to create it is a gift from God…
We all know what living is
We all had our lives given to us.
On a silver platter, a road for life mapped out for us,
but we aren't always serious
about the people near and dear to us,
because we're usually delirious about the life we take for granted.
When we have roofs over our heads
and sheets on our bed
then how come on the streets people
are frozen with defeat and have to compete for some food.
How can we watch people's lives fall when they stand against a wall with a sign?
No use at all, praying to god as their pride crumbles.
We watch them stumble with their heads down low and nowhere to go and I think,
Where is the kindness planted?
Why do we take our lives for granted?
How could we stoop so low while we live in houses they have nowhere to go
- couldn't we lend them something...
Oh no, one person could make a difference if they spoke out loud
show their faces to the crowd.
A difference could be made
all of us could be of aid.
So dear reader I hope you see
the message that coming from me
and as I've gone on and almost ranted
Why do we take our lives for granted?!
She’s the princess of the world of silence.
Existing outside our normal human touch,
She sees every good, bad, deed we do.
She passes no judgment, just perseverance.
Realizing this world has choice, as such.
Caring not what we decide, or even a clue.
Her soul was guided by plain experience.
Her mind unrivaled, and new very much,
Her name, Rain; with eyes of light blue,
Lips that glimmered, true, effervescence,
Her name was given from her first touch.
Upon the day she was born, it came anew.
Christening with name in natures balance,
Her destiny preordained in gentle touch.
Who would win her heart, capturing dew?
Dew, one of her two faithful acquaintances,
They chatted in a language, Double Dutch.
Mist, the second, now you know of the two.
Stallions, white twins, with no ambivalence,
Only she could speak, hear, revealing crutch.
No other could tell differences in her crew.
One to be her prince in adoring excellence,
Must win confidence of dew in his touch,
No mistake, no second chance for woo.
Many have tried to no avail in adolescence.
Only one pauper’s son left to offer such.
One chance to know, to choose right skew,
His mind, unconsciously knew adherence.
When he prepared his choice, a quick clutch,
His choices correct, all others they bid adieu.
Her companion was chosen, forever attendance.
He rode mist, she road dew, in blissful touch
His heart and soul was, sincere, more than true
Princess and pauper together, rode into silence.
Peace prevailed in their land, never violence.
Princess Rain, now Prince Veil road in balance.
Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~
Contest Name Rain, The Story
Written by cecil Hickman
there you were
inside a picture frame
black and white photo
on the gallery wall
irrigating joy and goodness
his holinesss the dalai lama
your colours are boundless