Sweets for the Sweet!

Those are the treated people's, a world of red-hot cherry sours of remorse that in like Werther's Original recant as old age candies and are dispersed in homely decanters from rich camels that fed thousands at the battle and fall of Grenada 1492 but couldn't feed themselves for whatever simple reason. Age is a ponder of wonder to the experienced of education or none.

They neither toiled nor spun, they were spindled with childlike fatalities of femmes and by the way they gleamed to glean on in their own way as starred S.T.R.I.P.E. They stayed back hunger P.O.W. regression and drummed the roll past the frailer and the forgotten by those who wanted to still give their 2 cents for Phoenix like thoughts of those risen reasons.

Always a back seat driver for those stripes that no one knows and never shall because life is the way in the truth of it and just. But resonated in underline tone to not pull the plug.

Life is fair as sweetly the sweetness.


Not guilty, a plea, a whim, a warning of the freedoms afforded by what Graces Americas sheltered stilled sweet nothings between us and dismissal. It is in the house that prays together that stayed together that no matter how intrusive the reward, openly it matters not as to the truth and heart of the star-spangled kid and the nonsense that is angelic bullscript.

But we are suffered anyway because no one else would pay nor play at the lyres of these colors like amethysts in a cheery eyed, mindful of the healing, and like revelation type way at an expected end.

These are The Judges.

Things like these emotions bring to mind the hero of the "Real Men of Genius" songs. The reality of the intuitive, the river that flowed tears, like Indians and their offspring on a trail that canvased the blankness to see, hear, and ponder the promises that not a one is seer. White Buffalo took up for his own, but these heard that laid down as decreed of Daniel by the hand that is clear to this a day of rainbowed edge.

Curved and bent, broken and bowed, never again will we forget.

When those who are guilty stand as innocent on that day with their transgressions forgave, what will they say of the way, the truth and the life that went unrequited as forbade Corbin, although the highways and byways were strung out to the call like heroine's and the back seat of right now ruffled feathers of healing wings.

What makes the White eyed Red man Red? Why the clutch of the Star Spangles and gummed like cinnamons' of Big Red Gum, and those Necro Wafers of the definition of Praise and Worship divvied up for self ends and the bearable responsible with blood on washed paid hands.