Post 2. blast from the past/ retrospect / what was i going through

Dear Blog,

I'am writing to you from the distant future. Here, in this unpredictable place, in this unkowing place, in this fine place, is a spot to land your bi-plane.

There, on the desert beach where you landed your Saharan coloured plane down,

are the cool gentle waters where blue green reign supreme,

and there are very few things to worry about.

Where you are is your present, My past.

In that time space was a whole other worry set,...

A whole other situation paradigm...

Had to think on your feet.

And describe it.

Let's take a look at what was going on as things led up to where I'am.


Hey, basically, there was too much sensitive material, it turns out I'm not ready to divulge my personal journals yet in online audience spree so I took this one down. i'll be revisiting this post.

(here are some poems from Chicago)

1. Tall black ceiling,

with a charred texture,

like the burned bark of the redwoods;

I ask for sex with my eyes but,

no replies.

2. The temple turns rose in the evening sun,
   they used a white stone, to show trust in
   It's choice, of colours.
   Inside, I ask for humility,
   while the eyes of someones friendly daughter,
   stare me up and down.
3. Hunger has many doors.
   With each mouth clamoring, lip smacking,
   and then, falling silent.

Love APW

Bahai temple of Chicago

At the Elephant seal observation beach