"The lovers, artists, and poets against the powers of the Establishment. We lost. They won. And here we are today… Waiting for the end of the world."
~Peace, Love, and Happiness~
Thanks so much!xx
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Thank youu! Xx
The woman carries her scriptured stones to the lake,
carved with nails and hails to them.
Stitches imbedded within her crying lips and radiant beams yellow in satin slips down her darkened hair.
Silked skin, tanned Indian.
A veil covers her face and amber eyes weeping.
The stones read of poems and lies to hypnotize those hollow minds.
She follows the ancient Shaman,
And sees in aztec,
the shifting grounds beneath her brilliant beauty.
Remembering the fey angels; Transcendentalism.