There will be time to live like winter, it’s only natural, life less than fantastical, but for now summer spray paints words in gold, a sweet respite for all that’s cold. The sun upon my face is only natural, found life fantastical. ~ ~ D.J.W. AdvertisementsRead more "– let this be a sad poem not –"
I can feel it in the Valley… bus ridin’ up Van Nuys. Tell me if it’s up my alley… morning rain so soft like. Wally World’s an anchor store, expecting less, still craving more. Do you feel it here in Cali… when it’s new sights you find? Up and down Panorama Mall, less time […]Read more "– clouds, rain, and panorama mall –"
I won’t forget even when I should. I’m in- capable… it’s incredible. What pencil, what utensil was used on my memory? Sketched up the portraits I can’t burn, etched up and open to the lessons learn. Art from the dark, ’til death do I part, will be more than just a memory. ~ False flags, […]Read more "– etched in my mind –"
Los Angeles, CA January 28, 2028 12:01 a.m. My home is located off of Wilshire Boulevard, humble, but abundant. I connect aptly with my neighbors. I create art within my spaces. I control anxiety without my vices. Such a future I have built for my vessel. The sweet importance of these statements I will hold […]Read more "– foreseeable future –"
In my palace, lovers would sleep lavish- ly, fine sheets in the quarters of my freaks. They’d eat right, money tight, why would they fight over any damn thing, even over me? I dream of black and gold as the color scheme, on the walls and the linen, Midas slight grinnin’, glistenin’ in sunlight in […]Read more "– seraglio –"
My most deranged theory yet has been officially debunked. Distance hasn’t been far enough. Time hasn’t been long enough. Now, I’m jumping cannonball-style back into the cesspool of nostalgia-ridden fantasies about all that never was. The 26th of January just might turn into the best “worst anniversary” yet… let’s celebrate! ~ ~ D.J.W.Read more "– elliott, revisited –"
Only those who define the term “malnourished” circle me, vultures, many older, in need of some heat to grow less colder. Flattery is a bride of Dracula, a restless middle-age siren making waves just to wreck my vessel on voyage. Can one label them predators though if their target already accepts the role of prey? […]Read more "– claws upon –"