Stained Piers And Smoke…

Pmespeak's Blog

C_941Along planks of wooden pier–smoke curl and life sleeps–in quick nods and thin wakes–then upright–moves–along shores where fog lines–touch–city highs–above pier stretch and common reach…The giant sights—flash serpents’ wind–‘cross valley wide–ribbon thin–wide-wine crawl–slow moves-shakes–side-to-side–land crawl–to stop by waterside…Lateran light and boats rock still–men shore–land as day fishers take places–loom from smoke and disappear–into the morning mist…And! Tambura–now count-mix-play–the start–of start-stop–beginning–day…

We are not–notions to kill or die. We wear different–packages of cloth and color and need and we all bleed red same—as liquid and air mix and body plain–moves ‘cross these places or–other spaces in motions–to exist together–without pride or prejudice or religions-regions–to-take-to-hate or to replace–irreplaceable life. Poverty is a never Crime—Greed is a Crime against all Humanity.

Must touch– beautiful colors–through both the eyes and with our fingers. Must hear–lover’s voice–touch heart–before substance becomes words–of meaning or reason or other notions. Must know–silence–as silence calls–senses–with thunder and noise and…

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