Sunday, January 28, 2018


That eternal vagabond, 
That Usain Bolt of thoughts, 

That mixing bowl of Glen with Chardonnay with Vodka and Tequila,
That child with a pout insisting on the china doll,

That Siddhartha of nirvana,
That Hitler of Holocaust,

This mind is all that,
And worse.

When in the Beyond

I lost a train of thought to the screeching halt by a memory.  This happens to me often, Memories, you would brand random, Simply appea...