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Marionettes we feel we have become, puppets controlled by a madman with a jester’s heart. We all dance, twirl and bow. We flicker & glimmer perfectly timed lights standardized like a proper running computerized program-so mechanically charged.

Somewhere in the strings jingle-jangle tugging, nudging nuisance, purpose becomes misplaced, so easily lost, thus, it becomes like the itch of addiction.

To again love in life, to live in love and to feel in return the sunshine and not drown swallowing the downpour of a tsunami rains. At least a puppet can dream.

Sunshine Daydream from Ghost in the Reflection


A Planet Productions Poetry & Press Production.

We all have dreams we chase towards the setting sun. Some begin that journey early in the day or season, others never get the chance to approach the starting line before the season comes to its end. This is one leg of one dream. One corner of this ginormous universe I am able to call my own and scratch down notes of this jamboree of chaos in a play-by-play representation of what was seen from my point of view. But not one second of this is intended to be for my satisfaction, I care more, more than I will allow those around me realize, more than my words shall ever capture, an empathy for the other lost souls sentenced to this purgatory with me. 

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