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from my book The Virgin Chronicles and Song Book by Louis Marshall Gould, available bl a through Bokus.com


Like a thunderstorm

You opened the door
and let me in just a little bit
I walked around for a while
Then I decided to sit
and ponder who we are
who I was and who I will be
Meanwhile I lost you in the time
between times
in the pause between pauses
Was it something that I said
or something that I didn't say
or something that I did?
These thoughts go around in my brain
Like a thunderstorm wanting to rain




Fri vers av the apache kid VIP
Läst 166 gånger och applåderad av 6 personer
Publicerad 2015-04-08 14:24



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  Jeflea Norma, Diana. VIP
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h0G1Ucw5HDg

Wind child.
You wrote with ink nostalgia here
Celebrating life daily rhythm
Its critical points with its rituals and gestures her simple joys,
With its figures and its crises designed undeleted clearing consciousness.
Trauma exile in this way is converted into a vibration of consciousness itself become a bridge between worlds.
Worn by the torrent of life, figures are drawn in motion gestures are captured in their natural order ennobles.
The humble, rejected, marginalized found its voice in the symphony of life.
Sphinxes humble, obedient and solitary, missing, waist hot with green earth, chills and hours turbulent ash poppies flight of science,
Elders, knead clay bread.

Currently gone through, uprooting, rooting, remained "skinless" without voice at list:

I,Y”These thoughts go around in my brain
like a thunderstorm wanting to rain”
Ps. Wash with whiskey…,

2015-04-08
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