Lace the jeans with feather facade amongst the promenade of passion
It is an acquired taste rather post haste type of traction
Like Ben Franklin met Marilyn Monroe and in unlikely fashion …. awakening illogical interaction with an enlightening satisfaction…
It is Becoming right now
Their only guide is being side by side….
Collide and Inspire throwing fear into the fire.
We did needle and thread the past and tomorrow as history twists and remembers it’s sorrow.
We Do what we dream weaving action in the seam, painting emotion into motion, and writing as it all is igniting into now our own when what why where and how.
Lads of Tir na nog.
From the land of Tir Na Nog. A Dutchman hog in a coracle log. through the fog we see as fish…. without nets lest we be …. in this sea the ones we love are ones we hear ones we see. Ones who will never escape thee. where we lay the head , home the like it be. when I see your face the joy of the steady , the wild and the free no longer a ghost in my own house to me. I appreciate the differences of all I see. lads of Tir Na Nog. the youth like those of we. Death is place without a place, the land of no decree. love is the life A well, a spring, overflowing in the lives of you and me.
Say what you want say what you will; I feel its sad how we feel what we say and make each other ill…. build me up or break me still, the monster is in this language; as a kill or a thrill.