they come in twos
they like it that way
they were never alone
but they'd never stay
they once did three
to set them free
yet somehow
it wouldn't let them be
it gnawed, it scratched
their cosy nights
and cracked it into
petty fights
no cage no rules
we're nobody's fools
luscious lust
the game's a must
it wasn't he
it wasn't she
so who would win
this game of three
the sun is set
the pillow's wet
and did they rue
the loss of two?
Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!
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Blog Archive
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2006
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July
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- darkly dadasinisterly surrealelegantly gothic the ...
- Dance Unto Death
- One day, today, tomorrow, who knows?
- Cows
- dusk
- Dark Matter
- Corrosion Risk?
- Mumbai, Mayhem & T.S. Eliot
- floyhip
- In need of some emotion
- an angry sun
- rivers of clay
- certain
- discharge
- Ascension
- Dream Weaving
- ...and relax
- warthog
- Duck in rain
- Wifred Hardbottle
- Mr Morrison
- Hammering The Cramps
- The Savage Desert - Continued
- Playing Savior
- PANGAEA
- the numbers game
- Three flowers (or "Photographs don't count")
- never people
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July
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2 comments:
wow ...
as long as they keep coming, I guess
that old triangle of love, lust and longing. brilliant stuff inky.
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