kushnkoffee

Maurice. I write to be free. 

[kushnkoffee]

America The Antique The empire At the end of things Begins its eternal exile Into the slow dawn As winter birds sings Or laughs at Our romantic Silent prison of ubiquitous liberty

Maurice H.d.

[kushnkoffee]

It's becoming harder And harder To stay awake In America

Maurice H. d

[kushnkoffee]

I wish that the pearl harbor of your eyes would stop burning in this beautiful winter...

Maurice H.d.

[kushnkoffee]

Every good girl is fucked up.

Maurice H.D.

[kushnkoffee]

Born free as a bird bearing dreams. Now we are bare, becoming machines.

Maurice H.D.

[kushnkoffee]

Looking for the holy city of solitude Where I can spin my cocoon of ink

Maurice H.D.

[kushnkoffee]

Black n white

[kushnkoffee]

Thank you lord for words

[kushnkoffee]

Oh these thorns blossoming within me Pulling winter roses out of a summer soul

Maurice H.D.

[kushnkoffee]

Every word was chosen from an endless stream Of struggle. Be careful of my kind smile, I've been torn many times Like a bad story.

Maurice H.D.

[kushnkoffee]

Seeking secrets as I walk on these killing fields...

Maurice H.D.

[kushnkoffee]

ashes falling During Autumn darkness on lavender sheets Madly we bloom to be summer orchids in November nights suffering one more Sunday just to remember nothing really ever ends.

Mhd

[kushnkoffee]

I would only believe in a God who could dance... ...now I am light, now I fly, now I see myself beneath myself, now a god dances through me.

Nietzshe

[kushnkoffee]

We are refugees from the war within our dreams.

Mhd

[kushnkoffee]

It is an act of defiance To wake in the morning With love And violence Roaring in your veins.

Mhd

[kushnkoffee]

Maybe a song will lead the way to A sleep The desperation of dreams Appear In the daylight of my smile Seek In night, the song Of my enemies who teach me the enlightenment of my Illusions The sound of the bed shaking in a quiet morning to compete with the Birds and bees And oblivion.

Mhd

[kushnkoffee]

I have come to the end of the week, Give me poem or porn. Sin is the sun I revolve around, And the source of the revolution of the silent soul. Give me gin or girl, Let me drown with the goddess of Wisdom In a ocean of fucking madness

Mhd