One exceptional dream journey took me all the way to the Kingdom of Britain where I met lovely Princess Diana.

In bed one night Jung was thinking about the funeral he had attended the day before. Suddenly he had a vision: his dead friend was standing at the foot of his head, looking down at him.

I’ve been thinking more than I should lately. That combined with listening to You Could Be Happy by snow patrol and the iron of dying on your birtday by senses fail has culminated into this.

The title says it all.

Don’t care about stupid descriptions.

or catagories.

I was once again stressed when I wrote this not that it matters but perhaps it will make more sense that way to whoever reads it. not that its too hard to figure out anyways.

I’ll let you figure this one out.

An unconventional and unusual two part haiku exploring how a haiku is born and how it dies.

An unexplainable communication which seemed to come from outer space. It happened more than twenty years ago, but is still a source of wonderment and as vivid today as it was in the 80s.

Somethings are not meant to be understood. They are meant to be peculiar.