I regret now having once thought
That each new morning fresh hope brought,
And keys were meant to open doors,
Bars on windows protect what's yours,
Steep walls were meant for privacy.
Now I see how wrong one can be!
As I await for my release,
I pray to God for inner peace.
(Honorable mention in Line Gauthier's Bite Size No 147 Contest)
Before me, I lay out the piano keys.
Step on them all.
My tone, my dream, my hope—
Trample them all.
Surrendering this body upon the keys,
I will make my voice heard to you!
#1
The key to
under-
standing John's mum-
bling babble is to
work blathering with
all known grum-
bling scum-
bags in the
area.
#2
Sheer junky
blonde men's
sons are
shared by
sheared shaken ju-
ries hunk-
ered down for
now in a
herky beef hus-
band's jerky her-
esy chamber or
dry cell assault and
battery cage.
Duckweed and hamhock Recipes
---------------------------------------
Written By: Staccato Tremolo
---------------------------------------
Rubisco alluring adjectives modern slang sounds so sexy.
It rizzy charm and satisfying Piquant.Yes, you can turn
desert land into an oasis by establishing a reliable
freshwater source, building a protective windbreak
, and enriching the sandy soil with organic matter.
Southwest Wildflower Mixes,California Poppy,Portulaca,
Desert Marigold .Back to Rubisco, it is the most
abundant substance on earth.
it is found in every green thing in every
plant on this planet.Responsible for photosythersis
it will be processed to be used as a protein for daily meals
.Calliandra californica,Tetrameris tetrapter,Hesperaloe parviflora,
Caesalpinia mexicana,Hesperaloe parviflora. Phrygian dominant
and quarter tones.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Use spinach if you don't have access to duckweed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Tener age must be stated and true if dating and co mingling are
in process! Ordered by the Grand Poohbah of the Order of Buffalo's.
_Scene: John comes home drunk, midnight_
Car door slammed at 11:58.
Keys sang like broken bells.
Heavy feet dragged the dust in,
Almost slumping.
"The night rider is back,"
Sonia said to the empty room.
He knocked anyway.
"You reek of alcohol," she told the dark.
"You never listen to advice."
His hand lifted.
Her eyes did not drop. Still.
"I won't back down, John."
The bulb buzzed between them.
His snore was surrender.
She watched the man sleep
Inside the ruin he built.
The argument was what
Burnt dried wood turn to.
The calm was colder than morning mist.
She looked at the door,
Not as wood, but as verdict.
Loveless shackles. Clanging keys.
“Course set,” her spine said.
Purpose loaded her chest.
She stood. No goodbye.
Liberation had hinges
That the door couldn't control.
Cab door slams.
Midnight bleeds.
Keys jingle like broken dreams.
“The night rider is back,” she sighs.
Beer breath fills that one room.
“Who?” she asks the ceiling.
“Useless woman,” he spits low.
Single bulb shows a man unmade.
Hand rises. Her eyes don’t move,
Fixed like a viper before its prey.
“I won’t back down, John.”
Pot hits floor.
Emptiness reverberates.
Days numbered, he growls.
She stands, it's sure.
Door turns to flag.
open handed, open minded, open hearted — free
Tough thought: what If I had not learned
the keys to words on the leaves of time.
The keys are cold, the notes so sad,
To pipe love that never bloomed
A minor key sighs, moans and weeps,
To recall a promise made
The ivory keys hum a dirge ,
A broken song of its sown.
A happy piano plays on,
fingers dance across the keys.
In school I took many lessons,
keys danced happy piano.
Happy keys make for happy day,
keys playing Happy Birthday.
God made her black;
She draws no attack...
Against His plan to shine,
What lust and fun do dine.
Beauty is of duty,
To value skin so sooty
Off cosmetic stupidity:
Intelligently fruity.
The key to her heart;
Money drives but not wide,
Lies penetrate but not apart,
Love tightened so to take side.
The key to her mind;
Reasoning gears up but not accurate,
Guess measures but not actually bind,
Conviction brightens so to be moderate.
The key to her soul;
Breath handles but not authentic,
Sickness threaten but not whole,
Living boosts so to be analytic.
Quiet, clicking keys,
Verses bloom from silent thought,
Words carved line by line.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
dawn's light on the keyboard
fingers hovering
above static keys
waiting for the chord
that isn’t played
but recognized
when silence splits
and something older
than thought
enters the room
Each day he came with a full smile and can-do attitude.
I knew he was homeless, but his other truths alluded me.
Each task I asked of him, whether involved or quick, was
another job he consistently gave his all. His education
was evident, his manners, perfect. Each payment I gave,
saw my money well spent.
One day in mid-fall, while raking leaves side by side,
a perfect moment of shared ease freed my questions.
With no hesitation, my curiosity sought its feed. I
learned he had no steadfast address, no clock or regrets
from any circumstance, but a fire to rise higher towards
bliss. He felt society not only easy, but necessary, to resist.
Smiling, he nodded towards my worn ring of heavy keys.
He shared that in his travels he had acquired three.
The first unlocked freedom designed to find key two
and three; a key to inner peace and the other to spiritual
increase. He spoke with resolute belief, “I know it’s hard
to conceive that any man owns intangible keys, much less
three, but just as your keys open possessions, mine align
by design to unlock bliss.”
Overwhelmed by his beliefs, all I did was mutely fondle my keys
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