thekesselrun.wordpress.com
There’s no smoking anywhere | LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE
https://thekesselrun.wordpress.com/2015/04/10/theres-no-smoking-anywhere
Who is This Bastard? LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE. Tales from the Dyslexic Heart. There’s no smoking anywhere. And the mutual words that will never spoken of even under breath. Bitten tongues held for the infinite. Sisyphus rolling the hidden language. Up the unheard hill past the unspeakable. What is only seen in locked eye moments that fade to the downhill roll. Crushed to lustful dust blown a heavy southern airstream to the land of where aching hearts close doors to the smiles and stares. We all yell in key.
thekesselrun.wordpress.com
To Whoever Finds This | LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE
https://thekesselrun.wordpress.com/2015/03/26/to-whoever-finds-this
Who is This Bastard? LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE. Tales from the Dyslexic Heart. To Whoever Finds This. This entry was posted in Blogroll. YOUR BODY ON THE GEARS. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Email (Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out. To Whom it May Concern.
thekesselrun.wordpress.com
LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE
https://thekesselrun.wordpress.com/2015/03/09/651
Who is This Bastard? LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE. Tales from the Dyslexic Heart. Sanskrit had 96 words for love wilst old romantic Persian scribbled 80 words for the condition hiding behind staring eyes. Marched into carved caves of heavenly toil and silence. You can not say the words for you must go labour for the wordgivers. Love all the pretty horses then adore the their grand stables. Poetry is for us fools who need more than 176 words. This entry was posted in Blogroll. And tagged destroy the state.
thekesselrun.wordpress.com
LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE | Tales from the Dyslexic Heart | Page 2
https://thekesselrun.wordpress.com/page/2
Who is This Bastard? LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE. Tales from the Dyslexic Heart. She lands her pint down and asks the famous question, “But why is everything worded so vague and ugly also how much is true? 8220;I put my awkward head down and lacked any remote sort of response,fidgeting by now I sipped my drink looking away. I had to smirk buying time for an answer,buying another round as she stared intently through me. I had no answer. 8220;So what is it then genius”? Sister I’m not a poet I told her. Enola Ga...
thekesselrun.wordpress.com
We all yell in key | LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE
https://thekesselrun.wordpress.com/2015/04/11/we-all-yell-in-key
Who is This Bastard? LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE. Tales from the Dyslexic Heart. We all yell in key. Not everything can be stolen,robbed, nicked or foreclosed on. There are things you’re born to be even if not in your pocket but buried under whom you’re told you are. A vox populi inherent to the DNA of every city and forgotten places. Ask the street lights. The benches of bus stops. And the cubicle jail chairs. The prose of born silent stories are there to be told. It’s the lost song we all know.
thekesselrun.wordpress.com
YOUR BODY ON THE GEARS | LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE
https://thekesselrun.wordpress.com/2015/04/03/655
Who is This Bastard? LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE. Tales from the Dyslexic Heart. YOUR BODY ON THE GEARS. Streets lined with dire faces of American Idle lost love, there has to be more than this. The scale balancing act along the burning tightrope one foot in heaven whilst the other in the machine stuck in daily first gear slow grind well beyond immaculate design. This entry was posted in Blogroll. To Whoever Finds This. There’s no smoking anywhere. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here.
thekesselrun.wordpress.com
thekesselrun | LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE
https://thekesselrun.wordpress.com/author/thekesselrun
Who is This Bastard? LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE. Tales from the Dyslexic Heart. Give me your tired, your poor,Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,. The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these,the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:. I lift my lamp beside the golden door hiding the criminal legality of letting of you rot .Because I got mine and soon what you have will be divided across the line of vultures. The red headed banshees and smiling ties hide under the bed right next to us. Being it e...
thekesselrun.wordpress.com
LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE
https://thekesselrun.wordpress.com/2015/02/23/647
Who is This Bastard? LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE. Tales from the Dyslexic Heart. This entry was posted in Blogroll. Look of not even. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Email (Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out. Notify me of new comments via email.
thekesselrun.wordpress.com
LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE
https://thekesselrun.wordpress.com/2015/02/23/649
Who is This Bastard? LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE. Tales from the Dyslexic Heart. Heroes are hung with the expectations of the hopeful. All stories are told through tellers and listeners being born again with oral tradition and imaginations. Of the few whose eyes meet theirs intimately. Watching it unfold in bedrooms. Just for one day. This entry was posted in Blogroll. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Email (Address never made public).
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