A quick note before sleep. Speak slow as I breath.
Realizing my words are characters, cast them all
in the play. More sun rays as the guns play, the
conundrum stays. I’m re-arranged in palate ballads.
Repeated phrase; close my blog in its deleted stays.
She rescues me from reasons. Me, set into an Eden.
And I’m Martin. London, a dozen. Crumbling cookie in
the oven. But I survived like my cousin. Dumb-bludgeoned,
2nite, poetry calling me. No safe expected wine reflection, even though I can’t remove Lancaster’s 2006 Estate Cabernet from palate recall. Just want to have another Cabermet moment2me. That ’06, however, haunting. Should drive to AV tomorrow, buy a couple more bottles. But, have to save for my inaugural release. Still not sure how many pages it should be in final. And I don’t have to settle such 2nite. It’s my Friday night, as Dad reminded me only hours ago. 2morrow, in-sleeping.
The ’06 Lancaster Estate Cab, deserving of a family night. Fantasy Cabernet, dream bottle; capsule of treasure sips. More than merely content I poured it with Dan & Sue. Life, more than abbreviated, that’s all the more reason to clasp to occasions, with special wines, special Humans. The Lancaster portfolio, teaching me not only about bottle content, but wine composition/character axioms. Reactions reverberating, recalling that Alexander Valley ’06 nonpareil. Thankful, believe ...
Suits try to my truths recruit. I’m of dues to new
clues. Released from corporate noose. I’m creased
like horrid blues. Evasive metaphors and similes. Unfettered
shores for better seas. My rimes blend with wine, like my mind’s
sending signs. I’m aesthetically intwined, night-chimed, like a like-grind.
Not impressed by your title, I’m only stressed by the vital. Micro-
managerial, I’m psycho and ethereal, calm from the filial. Mike
Madigan, like Mike Tyson, quite livened. Writing to moon beams,
inviting the June dreams.