Panama
Boquete, David, Barqueta
Page one, Boquete
A Silent Soliloquy
all photos and text by tsdaly
not to be reproduced or used in
any way for commercial use
without written consent
not to be reproduced or used in
any way for commercial use
without written consent
Here at La Crepe, I got some good Eggs Benedict.>>>
Jungle Journal, 9-13-2009
On being Alone
On being Alone
Flickered it's neon
flashing cool-grey
rain-splattered
sunshine in rough
loud whispers,
spurted across the
back of my brain.
flashing cool-grey
rain-splattered
sunshine in rough
loud whispers,
spurted across the
back of my brain.
What light upon that
window breaks?
Deafening in it's
semi-translucent-
opacity..shrieking
color as yet unknown
to the spectrum known.
Is it a ray of hope,
passing for a vociferously naughty view
through a chapel's glass?
God's little girls parading noisily naked in
suits delivered on their bithdays?
Perhaps light escaped from Heaven Itself
and bore down with a chorus of
cacophonously delightful images,
dancing fairies, and extra rations of rum?
passing for a vociferously naughty view
through a chapel's glass?
God's little girls parading noisily naked in
suits delivered on their bithdays?
Perhaps light escaped from Heaven Itself
and bore down with a chorus of
cacophonously delightful images,
dancing fairies, and extra rations of rum?
Perhaps a dirty whisper now I see,
just the glint of the moon
off a ring on the finger
of a mean little thing
in a loud blouse, with a
screaming nice ass.
Beaming her sick circling beacon
fueled by lanterns lit by the
dead's weeping marrow,
sucked, swallowed and greedily
slurped with a lip-smacking glee
after the poor fools' ships were
dashed in a raucous clamor
of dying illumination
upon the rocks
at her laughing, blood tinted feet.
just the glint of the moon
off a ring on the finger
of a mean little thing
in a loud blouse, with a
screaming nice ass.
Beaming her sick circling beacon
fueled by lanterns lit by the
dead's weeping marrow,
sucked, swallowed and greedily
slurped with a lip-smacking glee
after the poor fools' ships were
dashed in a raucous clamor
of dying illumination
upon the rocks
at her laughing, blood tinted feet.