The moment you see something with your own eyes and feel injustice with all your senses, you cross an inner border, you know you can’t go back from there.
The war is over or is it? Do I know you as a dirty innocent thing yet? A discarded soft child forgotten by your god? A picture frame made of wilted flowers?
An editor of my college poetry journal loved this new "depth" poet. He did not realize that I was drowning, and I could barely string words together...
“We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today.” ~ Stacia Tauscher So often you hear people talking how important it is to teach the young. Well, how about allowing the children to teach us? Are they not wise, filled with love and ...
People throw up sex addiction when I’ve tried to discuss my sexual peak with them. Apparently, if a woman wants an abundance of sex, then she must have a psychological condition -- she couldn’t possibly just want to get laid.