i have made my bed of bricks / it leads me to concentration. / shifting position becomes an art form / a depiction of grace and gentleness / ...
If you are ready, if you want the truth, and if you want this country to be what it was meant for and what we have fought for….
A speech I wrote as a scholarship entry at Brickfish for a thousand dollar prize. I doubt I’ll win but my sentiment is the same. (http://www.brickfish.com/Pages/Blogs/BlogView.aspx?bid=21174&=cs_fastamerica_PPIMEMAIL&isep=1&pbapi=299580&pbvi=9158572)
What is life just a curiosity of mankind or something else / I have been searching endlessly / for the brick of life / what is life?...
HERE COMES ANOTHER COLLABRATION, I DONE WITH KEITH WILLIAMS! / LIFE IS JUST A MYSTERY! AND WHAT WE FEEL ABOUT… CHECK IT OUT! / THANKS MY FRIEND KEITH!
Experience is the architect / The motar of reason / Breaks and erodes at times / Seeping into the cracks of memory
poem
She wears a stained glass dress. / And shimmers like a rainbow, iridescent. / The light shines in distorted, / Just the way she likes it. / S…
There were four cats who sat on a wall, / bending and stretching and sitting up tall.
A poem I created for the artwork Cats on an old brick wall by fellow redbubbler traceyann
These storms go on the entire time, but thats for the inside. If it’s worth being told it will be there when the storm has passed. And…
Just a ranting of mine.
Encapsulated in yellow taxicabs / the circuit drugs with filament wool / swallowed men and their seed / motels with soiled bedsheets / and ba…
Little block of ancient times made of heat & clay / Can create such beauty when in a vast array / One is just irrelevant two is still just …
Just a thought on the power of an individual & the power of a group
And so now the path is always gold — / my heart is your heart / and it beats only for you.
It’s clear to me now that I enjoy writing about roads and journeys. There is just something about them. Written for Michael, the gold in my path.
Tsk. Tsk. No apricots for you, silly Kookaburra.
Hmm. I suppose there’s more to worry about if you actually understand. I don’t even understand. That little blue giraffe [the one with the yellow polka dots who enjoys Icelandic Flower-Baby Princesses and Coke-Addicted Rock Star Romances] in my muddled brain makes the linguistic communication… I just translate it into the [somewhat] understandable language of English… I may jump a few lines. My deepest apologies. -Sincerely, Peter Your local Rainy Day To-Do List Distraction. Questions? Comments? Concerns? Please direct them to the complaint department located conveniently at: / P. Sherman / 42 Wallaby Way / Sydney, Australia
This is a story of many bricks / herring-boned clock ticks / where time after time / sticky seams / turn lone stones to blurred / and zigzag…
3.2009
When grace does, take a holiday,in some long forgotten dream, here we get a free gun with every bottle of Jack Daniels. here we throw gra…
trivia angst.
She wishes he could hold her / Hear his voice say small words
Adele sings Bob Dylan Hi Dad / Miss you X
I had built my wall, so well, and precise. / Then you came, and little, by little, / brick, by brick, touch, by touch, / tore it all down. ...
I must ask myself / Why I am so guarded? / Why do I fear to trust? / When you give your heart freely, / and the objects of your desires take …
Sticks and stones may break my bones… bricks building up…. better and honorable way… / Pfft, just read it, lol : ) It’s good.
The power of words.
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