Prepare for pleasures now retirement of A little writing for a special few…
… The essence of true breeding be Inclusive sensitivity
Night of Werewolves, by J. W. Cassandra, my recent poem. I haven’t placed it in any of my volumes, yet. I’ll do it later. I was writing it right to the surface of Instagram post in the night of full moon, 30/08. 2020. At first in English, then in Hungarian. And I posted it in a bare, undedited form then. For now, I made the edited version, as well. Here I share both in English and Hungarian.
Night of Werewolves, by J. W. Cassandra, my recent poem. I haven’t placed it in any of my volumes, yet. I’ll do it later. I was writing it right to the surface of Instagram post in the night of full moon, 30/08. 2020. At first in English, then in Hungarian. And I posted it in a bare, undedited form then. For now, I made the edited version, as well. Here I share both in English and Hungarian.
I can’t believe we been together for 8 years I would ask you to grab a glass so we can say cheers But let’s not forget you only here because of my peers I have been waiting for Jesus to finally steer At times I feel like he’s deaf because he’s still not here I guess it’s time for me to steer I just got to ask you something Why do you continue to keep me from resting?
Back among the Hebrews In the holy days of old Things went differently than Perhaps we have been told…
Woe to the beast Who finds pleasure in devouring Young female fruits Woe to the beast Who enjoys screams and cries From a vulnerable voice Woe to the beast Who beats his companion While his…
For no more than the pleasant price Of a few questions — in a trice — I donate, to the hungry, rice!
I was in a marching band — It was, to say the least, An informative experience…
Anyone working that hard To make someone else unhappy…
And that is how the dawn comes To a dark night of the soul We realize the exercise Intended was to make us whole…
That’s all right That’s okay We don’t even Have to play!…
In yourself deep conviction In me obsession…
You can’t see That I’m as different From a homeless person As a homeless person can be?…
The truth is: Any time created is, Be it but the most fleeting moment passed, Of love, of grace, of beauty, peace or bliss Such must itself a victory be classed…
