bichoose (bichoose) wrote,

Sunday 19th June 2011.

How soon my Trinity Sunday pops around the corner to greet me with lavish laughter, grunts as high speed cannon balls all in a hotch potch of ticking clocks fumbled sighs and motion that constitutes the bashing of grey matter around the crazy street mix with elaborateness of a one armed paper hanger in hobnailed boots tied with pink laces.
Which means that i am quite well on this brave overcast day in June, as my mind chews cud,my mouth blows bubbles,visionary bubbles after catching up on various blogs some of which i am a mere lurker dressed only in a flasher mac,one of those prehistoric lightweights where an instant cock can flash on words conjured in the minds sparrow pit,the place where wood nymph's dance in contorted curly leaf embraces as sexuality in all its forms are canvassed in white washed paint and pinned to the thin walls of the ever moving cyber space. To be view by those whom chance has pinched quite nicely on the bum whilst quite yearning to be a voyeur queen.
Then there are blogs where you want to weep as agony is painted in deep red across the cyber sky,an out pouring of not so much grief but bewilderment as to what is going to bring forth for them as the next Trinity Sunday begins to be cranked up by the hobnailed boots dwellers. 
My White Page Goddess has remained silent today, is it i wonder the shock of me trying to make a blog of this cyber space that does not dally in fits, as i tack my ship into the full force of the gale,the great unknown beckons the horizon is murky the cloud spill touchable yet does one shrink back to port, and the same warmth of the dungeon, that keeps the collar pulled up tight,in sleeted inflicted lashes by those whom wishes dominate the crusted hand holding the tiller...I am the captain of my ship.perhaps..!!..perhaps i do not want to be either. 

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