We create our own inertia, movement, chaos.
We align ourselves with the tumbleweeds of our thoughts, the shooting stars of our imaginations, the rainbows of our fantasies.
We build bridges into other kingdoms while taking our rightful place on the thrones of our creations.
Our minds are the fertile grounds of our future. Our thoughts are the building blocks of our own predestined worlds. We write the stories of our lives with the ink of our blood, the parchment of our skin, and the mechanisms of our sweat and tears.
Our fantasies flow into the streets of our reality; creating new alleys and crossroads, constructing new dimensions and dwelling places – leading us to richer, more complex surroundings in order to fulfill our purpose, complete our deeds, and finish the assignment that we were sent here to do when we first made up our minds and agreed to return to this physical, natural Earth that we come to rely on as our home.
You spark something in me
Poem and photo by L J Priest
“If you would not be forgotten,
as soon as you are rotten,
either write things worth reading
or do things worth the writing.”
Photo by L. J. Priest
Can you hear me?
Can you hear the silent screams of passion taking place right now in my soul?
As my hearts races in furious longing.
As my pulse quickens its beat along the extensive highways of my veins.
As my breath labors heavily in my lungs, and raises my chest in rhythmic anticipation of your love.
As my eyes darken under the fluttering of my lashes
as I steal sideways glances at your naked form.
You are perfection…..
Born from the joyous union of irresistible charm and impeccable physique.
The waves of my lust come crashing
onto the shores of my conscious,
and make me vitally aware that without you in my life,
my world is a muted place.
L. J. Priest
My model is the adorably colorful Heather Marie Miss Kitty. Find her at https://www.facebook.com/HeatherMarie.MissKitty
Quietly they steal away
The reflections of a challenging day.
The pictures that skipped across my view
go scattering into the night,
Only to wind their way back
into my brain
Through the pathways
of my dreams.
Picture taken in Trujillo, Honduras. Photo and poem productions of L. J. Priest
All rights reserved.
“For what is the purpose of sleep but to dream,
and what is the purpose of life but to fulfill those dreams.”
L. J. Priest
Briefly fleeting thoughts
Skip across my brain
The metric waves of bio-rhythms
A chorus of desire
The music of
A lonely lover
Who needs to feel
Of your arms
L. J. Priest