waka of budouadana: Tyrant

TyrantThe tiny tyrantCannot speak a single word,Yet is understoodBy subjects who serve himAnd provide his every need.(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

pitchers tuck by buddy don: browsin in hells kitchen

i am hopin today is a better day than the last three, witch i bin havin sum of the wurst migraines ever, mayhap on a counta thankin i dint half to take no depakote durin the 'off-season' fer migraines. i dont git minny of em in summertime, but ifn one brakes thru, tiz a doozy.a while back me n miz bd tuck a stroll thru the flea market in hells kitchen. tuck a bunch of pitchers, witch heres a few

waka of budouadana: the usual

the usualyeah, some vomiting,the usual arc of painleft side of my headpinning me to the mattressslow passage of dense dark time(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

mizry of buddy don: rare summer migraine

cummenced yesterdy mornin whilst i wuz on the train. still a'goin on.(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

waka of budouadana: Aging

AgingAs evening shadowsLengthen while the setting sunKisses the westernHills, so old memories stretchAs aging bodies weaken.(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

waka of budouadana: Mother

MotherThe aging motherWho nursed her newborn children,Raised them to adults,Now offers milk of wisdomBased on precious memories.(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

pitchers tuck by buddy don: takin the ferry

(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)