By poetpas Life of a shower head
I am Simon calledPeter, my name stands for theBalance of justice With mercy, the swordIn the stone. In me find theWisdom of ages. I am
This painting is so Glorious, it pisses me Off. Way to hog all The talent, Jan Van Eyk. I have to be content Not creating
Never were true words Spoken. What is manifest Is illusion. The Real poem is so Indescribably perfect, Just imagine it.
Honduran wife, meAmerican, kids, mixed. WhenMy son gets anxious, And has a tantrum,I like to chuckle, they’re justHispanic attacks. His angelic faceBelies his unrelentingFocus, willpower,
He always wanted Something worth dying for. But He was alive, in Spite of himself. He Wondered if the French Foreign Legion would take him.