triggerdreams.blogspot.com

triggerdreams

In our craft a boat is built. Around us which carries us home. On a cradle floating down the river. Coursing through the thicket of our hearts. Pounding in unison at the door of our song. Escaping between the bars of a cage. Fashioned of pure molten nickel iron. Spun into the flowering gravity bound well. Beyond our electromagnetic capacity to resist. Links to this post. When I lower my eyelids. Down here in the basement. Shutting out this city neighbor. Hood I can begin to hear the wind. Just because I ...

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triggerdreams | triggerdreams.blogspot.com Reviews

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In our craft a boat is built. Around us which carries us home. On a cradle floating down the river. Coursing through the thicket of our hearts. Pounding in unison at the door of our song. Escaping between the bars of a cage. Fashioned of pure molten nickel iron. Spun into the flowering gravity bound well. Beyond our electromagnetic capacity to resist. Links to this post. When I lower my eyelids. Down here in the basement. Shutting out this city neighbor. Hood I can begin to hear the wind. Just because I ...

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1 triggerdreams

2 by shaun lawton

3 of feathers released

4 from tipped scales

5 written by

6 shaun

7 no comments

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9 blogthis

10 share to twitter

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triggerdreams,by shaun lawton,of feathers released,from tipped scales,written by,shaun,no comments,email this,blogthis,share to twitter,share to facebook,share to pinterest,ground level,petalview,the stars,captured,mayflies,in crystalline suspension,gone

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triggerdreams | triggerdreams.blogspot.com Reviews

https://triggerdreams.blogspot.com

In our craft a boat is built. Around us which carries us home. On a cradle floating down the river. Coursing through the thicket of our hearts. Pounding in unison at the door of our song. Escaping between the bars of a cage. Fashioned of pure molten nickel iron. Spun into the flowering gravity bound well. Beyond our electromagnetic capacity to resist. Links to this post. When I lower my eyelids. Down here in the basement. Shutting out this city neighbor. Hood I can begin to hear the wind. Just because I ...

INTERNAL PAGES

triggerdreams.blogspot.com

1

triggerdreams: GROUND LEVEL

http://www.triggerdreams.blogspot.com/2015/07/ground-level.html

When I lower my eyelids. Down here in the basement. Shutting out this city neighbor. Hood I can begin to hear the wind. Ruffled fur and smell the decaying mouse. Making no sound outside my window. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). So many dead lines. remote scanning for the few live wires. feeling in the dark with hands bound. look what i have found. All my poems © shaun a. lawton I am the editor of the Freezine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. View my complete profile. MUSIC IN THE MIRABELL. Stream flo...

2

triggerdreams: November 2013

http://www.triggerdreams.blogspot.com/2013_11_01_archive.html

Demons possess mankind yet do not exist. Autonomously. Only by taking possession of. An individual may a demon come into existence. This old secret has been lost on a population whose. Imaginations always seem to get the best of them,. But what can you do. While everyone is caught up. In the fading phantoms of their conversation, angels. Walk among us. Their reality determined once again. In the full blown possession of men. Each extend. Their arms through the race of human kind,. Bathrooms, and cars.

3

triggerdreams: January 2013

http://www.triggerdreams.blogspot.com/2013_01_01_archive.html

NINTH AND FIRST ON TWENTY THIRTEEN. Eighty-two, ninety-two, two-thousand-and-two,. Twenty-twelve, twenty-twenty-two. How many. Years from here would it take to get there for you. From where I sit and this is writ the answer would. Be nine. In twenty-forty-four when I'm seventy-eight. I should be feeling fine. I don't want to tempt fate I want to anneal it and kneel. Before it to implore it that before it gets fully settled in. Or set in stone would it be okay to stall foreclosure on. Links to this post.

4

triggerdreams: January 2014

http://www.triggerdreams.blogspot.com/2014_01_01_archive.html

Apart from cracks on the Formica. Counter top around the bending. Curve of my eye I can not discern. Anything through my shot glass. The rumblings of a city in dusk. Seep through the slurry of hushed. Undertones merging stainless steel. Clinks from glasses slowly stirred. In this labyrinth collecting mirrors. No one bothers looking at each other. Directly for the point of that was lost. Long ago with the reflected hosts. I sink into the magnified pores. Of her face held balanced on a stack. So many dead ...

5

triggerdreams: February 2013

http://www.triggerdreams.blogspot.com/2013_02_01_archive.html

TIME WILL TELL THE TALE. What if the child were the hero. In his own story for instance. We all know there is. No story without conflict. So boy are we in luck. Our arrival is wrought. Rom the get go. And there's the rub f. Do we mutually determine. Just exactly when that is? After dwelling on the matter enough. Consider it personal a. That most useful of maxims,. Silence, believe me, there's a story. And it's a good one. Links to this post. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). TIME WILL TELL THE TALE. A painted ...

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[scratchYpost]: May 2015

http://scratchypost.blogspot.com/2015_05_01_archive.html

A notebook bulletin board. Tacked on when randomly bored. Applied thoughts in a scribblebook. Open for the world to look who passes by. So fast to see like a needle in a haystack we. Safely stash those innermost secrets thought to be. At least you see languishing up and into pristine. For you to pick and sniff and hope. They don't make you sick. It has taken an excruciating amount of time for me. To determine we have been asking the wrong questions. More than laughter frees the soul of those who dare.

scratchypost.blogspot.com

[scratchYpost]: February 2014

http://scratchypost.blogspot.com/2014_02_01_archive.html

A notebook bulletin board. Tacked on when randomly bored. Applied thoughts in a scribblebook. Open for the world to look who passes by. So fast to see like a needle in a haystack we. Safely stash those innermost secrets thought to be. At least you see languishing up and into pristine. For you to pick and sniff and hope. They don't make you sick. They had long known about the cause and nature of their habitable zone, and knew it to be gradually shrinking over an extended period of time. They knew that...

sickstorytime.blogspot.com

Sick Story Time: The Hidden Visitor

http://sickstorytime.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-hidden-visitor.html

Go to bed,. Once while I was hiking deep in the Ozark mountains near Eden Falls cave, I spotted an insect that has yet to be classified by entomologists. The reason for that, is because unlike a dragonfly, this black beauty doesn't have wings affixed to its thorax. The body itself is connected by a hinge which effectively renders it invisible to the naked eye, upon taking flight. It doesn't have a pair of wings; it is a pair of wings. It's about two inches long and deadly as a diamond. I carefully exhale...

sickstorytime.blogspot.com

Sick Story Time: April 2014

http://sickstorytime.blogspot.com/2014_04_01_archive.html

Go to bed,. This stopped me short for a minute while I pondered how bizarre that was. I was literally standing at the end of the well-worn footpath and gazing into darkly overgrown woods. What the hell? I observed the flow of these organisms or whatever they were was now synced up to form a closed loop flowing counter-clockwise. " Widdershins. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). So many dead lines. remote scanning for the few live wires. feeling in the dark with hands bound. look what i have found&#4...We discov...

sickstorytime.blogspot.com

Sick Story Time: August 2014

http://sickstorytime.blogspot.com/2014_08_01_archive.html

Go to bed,. The Time of Anarchia. It is a time of frustration amid conquest, a time for killing bees in order to keep our lawns tidy and clean. A time when citizenship means tainting one's innocence with the complicity of mass suicide. A time when all one can do is wink and think " That's the problem though, isn't it? Thinking about it in the first place. T was a time for starting over and beginning new stories. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). The Time of Anarchia. View my complete profile. Words and stories...

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THE BE IN ME. Why am I here? Where do I come from? Pretty easy questions to answer if you have an opinion. I used to be an ape, or a fish, a rock at some stage. Maybe a frog one kiss turned into a handsome paige. The scientists tell me we all started with a Big Bang. Well no ship Sherlock as Daddy gave Mummy a twang. Obviously Adam and the snake into Eve gave a start. Yeah but where'd the rib come from to make the legs part. Well the rib came from Adam yeah but how'd he appear. He was a keyboard player f...

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Wednesday, December 3, 2014. How is it real? Means above, beyond,. Excessive, or existing. A space apart from. Of the holy being. As it goes,. The quality or state. Directly from God,. I think we can all agree. We must all have that. In common, our God-. Given divinity ('God' in. The sense of its being. A word meant to re-. So to speak, or to write,. So there you go,. Why can't we go. Of "we don't know". To me and if you. Burning is still peaking. Such as the honey bees. The bats and birds. We must have a.

triggerdreams.blogspot.com

triggerdreams

In our craft a boat is built. Around us which carries us home. On a cradle floating down the river. Coursing through the thicket of our hearts. Pounding in unison at the door of our song. Escaping between the bars of a cage. Fashioned of pure molten nickel iron. Spun into the flowering gravity bound well. Beyond our electromagnetic capacity to resist. Links to this post. When I lower my eyelids. Down here in the basement. Shutting out this city neighbor. Hood I can begin to hear the wind. Just because I ...

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Welcome to the home of triggered-emotions.com. To change this page, upload your website into the public html directory. Date Created: Thu Jul 11 21:49:02 2013.