yes yes yes. I know. I am here aren’t I? Who are you going to complain to? Exactly. Take some poems and shut up (I love you) She has dimmed all the beauty in the world but her own. loving a bright light makes everything a little darker when it goes. She has dimmed all the beauty in the world but her own. -A I know this type of game. the kind thats ruled by sin and stains she plays well but she is playing with a bastard I know the cards she plays the hidden ace I’ve played so much it’s seems with every card I know just what she’s after. How can she be so pretty as a lover. and yet still be so ugly as a master. -A The building of the house, of straw and mud and love, of trust and rust and the breaking of hands. The building of the house in the forest where the trees canopy above you and me and we no longer see the sky the gentle glowing of the moon. or the passionate shining of our sun The building of the house. blown down by the billowing of years. blown down in the gale of betrayal not yet had. The building of the house. and its many rooms both our painting rooms your office and mine our separate lives inside the building of the house. the garden yet unplanted the hedges that haven’t grown high enough to hide the many lives we could have lived. the building of the house with its many windows that look out to nothing. and our heater doesn’t work. and the faucet that’s gone dry The building of the home. a placeless space where our love lives made of our bodies our hearts and mind and our bones. the building of the home that exists between many miles that exists across so much time the building of the home with its endless rooms our joint office, cluttered with our many thoughts and together we paint outside Under the sun and moon both high in that endless sky it’s in the building of the home not the building of the house That I wanted to live. -A
Thanks for posting your beautiful writings. I have missed them. I am an agreement with you though, I would rather live in a home than a house because a home is more intimate and makes so many memories but a house is just a building that can be torn down anytime. A house you can move in and out of with no problem but a home is special and you can feel the warmth and love.
That office in the painting of the neons from old used Italian ideas where I feel more French by my mothers maiden name. I would find you out there but it seems even the crystaline technology in here, in this office over here and that office over there has led me to you.. ohh but a book would you try to find online to the mail of your front door for these reasons “self experience kundalini yoga as taught by Yogi Bhajan”
Yes, home is created in our hearts, in mental and spiritual connection, it's not a physical place, it's a "placeless space" - what a phrase! Thanks for touching my soul <3
Grateful for whatever inspired you again because it spread the inspiration further to all of us reading and sharing
the last one :0 i am standing in my room like this 🧍🏽♂️but with my mouth open like this 😮
omg i missed u here!!!
Thanks for posting your beautiful writings. I have missed them. I am an agreement with you though, I would rather live in a home than a house because a home is more intimate and makes so many memories but a house is just a building that can be torn down anytime. A house you can move in and out of with no problem but a home is special and you can feel the warmth and love.
love these so much, thanks for the birthday present im so happy you’re back
Love this picture of the home vs the house so much. Your writing is so musical - it’s like a song in my head.
🥹
“I love you”
It makes sense to me.
That office in the painting of the neons from old used Italian ideas where I feel more French by my mothers maiden name. I would find you out there but it seems even the crystaline technology in here, in this office over here and that office over there has led me to you.. ohh but a book would you try to find online to the mail of your front door for these reasons “self experience kundalini yoga as taught by Yogi Bhajan”
https://allpoetry.com/poem/16690406-The-Stories-That-shaped-Me--Story--1--My-First-Memory--by-Kassie-Taylor-adult
I love the building of the house. I love that it’s not a cliche. It’s a new, beautifully sad place.
Need a formula to make sense of you
And a ticket to a destination set by a travel company
While waiting for the night to turn into you
It was worth waiting for so long.
Yes, home is created in our hearts, in mental and spiritual connection, it's not a physical place, it's a "placeless space" - what a phrase! Thanks for touching my soul <3
The last one 👍
Solid!
Hug me ❤️