rapture

red Sun burns the oceans beaches left barron save for bleached bones of fish large and small unable to swim deep when the last of electricity fails when the water is gone we all burn in the fireless rapture Mother has spoken she has cleared her vines of thankless fruit the last breath echoes across the scorched, hauntingly void landscape the rainclouds move in

Deckard

I began writing poetry when I was a teenager and it truly saved me from a destructive path. 'Time Heals' will be on my grave stone'. I have 3 incredible kids who are the greatest gifts that God has given me. If I have advice to give to aspiring...

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