When someone tells me how many days we have left...
Let’s have a poetry battle. Throw it down on paper. Winner takes all. Who can express the best? Who can make the page quiver? Whose puns and poetic runs will conquer? Let’s be honest, though. This might all be a clever ruse. Because when it comes down to it, I just want to know how you truly feel.
We live in a time warp. Nope, scratch that. An alternate universe. Where 80’s music dominates the airwaves, And Chianti flows like water from a faucet. A place not only stuck in time, but also in its ways. Not quite home, but becoming more normal everyday.
So let me get this straight, you think that you’re Ted? Okay, sure. Perhaps our first date was a “Drumroll, Please” kind of night, and your tendency to criticize is uncany, but let’s make one thing clear. I am certainly not your Slutty Pumpkin, Nor you my Hanging Chad. And somehow I doubt that there are red cowboy boots in your closet, Or that you’d ever...
If CouchSurfing Is Wrong, Then I Don't Want To Be...
A personal plea to humanity: Believe in it. It might just surprise you.
The thoughts run so much deeper here, And it all mean so much more. A tree is no longer just a tree, but the secret to life itself. And it’s not just me. Everyone’s a poet, an artist, or budding philosopher. But why now? Why here? When we journey back, then who will we be? Former writers, retired painters, and burned out thinkers. Merely remnants of our other selfs, for...
There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophies. My brain and...– Dalai Lama