|Bromeliads - hot house - Tamaki Makaurau Auckland Wintergardens June 2012|
Long ago when ewill took bold and would not let no, people tall well all over the whirl took up pens, pencils, keyboards and dictaphones with larkness they knew of themselves, to power and push words forth. So fine flew light and transmogrified ink.
Hold be to goodness grace existed and there appeared fine stories, poems and repartee.
Various such wordsmiths, such as they are ringing out strong sentences like metals forged and determined, or fine, found each other through deciphering codes of wit and there grew a stare garden. (Friendship may appear like a vessel, a frigate perhaps or cruiser but closeness is created of dirt, water, food, sunlight, rest and multifarious growings some of which intertwine or nudge). At the least they share their exhalations.
Oxygen. Entertainment. Oddities.
'Hitch our blameless to a flagon and ride for the moon, hunees,' we cry across the wide world and into outer space. This is the proof of gooding, fleet it. Kiss every morning with clean thanks.
'Take bold of your language and make it moor,' we proclaimed while turning into sharpshooters of quick tots, (tequila or whiskey or jokes), then event managers and bats. Only onward possible ever was so, each our families and pages. Happily after ever with stories to match and a bonfire upon the hill of everything else, covered.
A tail of success hell fluffy on this cat lap of happiness. Yes?
|Auckland War Memorial Museum and Domain grounds from the Wintergardens 14 June 2012|
In Iowa my friend Julie took me to see this band, they're in the Iowa poem below this post and this is what they sound like -http://www.reverbnation.com/play_now/song_13387778