tales from the murky splurge

Sunday, March 12, 2017

An idea

My first poem on YouTube look up An Idea, performed by Joe Staton Sign in to see full entry.

Friday, March 10, 2017

I sit, I scribe, I look outside perfect. Great news my son has just been offered funding to pay half his college fees in New York. Thank you America, you are creating a fine actor and making one boys dream possible. All we have to do is raise the other half now. He is starting a poetry channel on... Sign in to see full entry.

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

I seek amongst words to create a poem But I know already it is my feelings I have to look for an inspiration Today I dig deep, digging into despair My feelings are just feelings I pull up frustration as it freaks in my tightly held fist And there is my thought waiting for a descriptive word Wanting... Sign in to see full entry.

Saturday, March 4, 2017

This silence is not silence, not true silence. Every noise is amplified This Awareness of noise is painful and I long for My musical mind to camouflage my thoughts and sounds To Drown them till muted where not a sound can harm you I feel frustrated as we all walk in avoidance, a noise that creaks... Sign in to see full entry.

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

imagination.....imagination has necessity for without it you would die and never be. Without it you would not be free. Sign in to see full entry.

I have a box and in that box is my dream It is warm inside it captures my spirit and wraps me in a blanket of security. I live with focus, ambition, a journey, a plight of absolutely no distraction. I am going with my dream as she calls to me, in her voice of clarity. You deserve this, You deserve... Sign in to see full entry.

Friday, February 24, 2017

Saw this written on a post on face book and it worried me. tolerating another culture will only dilute your own. thoughts on this please. Sign in to see full entry.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Necessity calls.

Necessity is the mother of artistic invention. Without pencil paper paint and plight, what is necessary to create, a crying child with hallowed frown upon a mothers holy gown, she lacks a canvas to present, a wall of worthy whitewashed space, meant for gazers wondering where it went. Not created... Sign in to see full entry.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

The Portrait Artist. The End.

Women, I have painted you before. When was that. When I slept and the fiestas took away my spirit to the time of a past life, when we danced in the square, you in a red dress, my hand firmly at your waist whilst you whispered something strange into my chest, your head buried under your falling wavy... Sign in to see full entry.

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

The portrait artist 5

So You look and lean forward and you see something else, what do you suppose you see? You with an all knowing smile, oh god I see it now, and I should hide behind my ego, sickly and withered, ashamed. the feeling and baring soul is not yours but mine. Sign in to see full entry.

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