I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas. My fingers are Santa's little helpers. My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments. I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn. Sisyphus, sweating uphill. Bukowski, scribbling away in rooming houses. A river always flowing. I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
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Like the song says, "All that lies between hate, love and revenge are just dead, dead, dead. It's just dead feelings."
ReplyDeleteNow I want steak.
ReplyDeleteI want boiled bones of Ewok.
ReplyDeleteWith a nice mango chutney.
Most of my hits are looking for bazooms.
ReplyDelete