Peteroo's Blog

As talented as an EGOT? No. My ego needs no politicised publicity stunt to find myself assured that I am worthy of both affirmations and validations.

Yes, I have a prebuttal for those who believe I am just jealous: accolades will eventually just collect dust on a shelf or wall, but everyday that I place my best foot forward, I am a reward to myself, whether small or tall.

The setting of my life is not built for me; I stay as long as my life is lit and my heart remains aglow. It is not about being finicky, but when flickering begins and alleys dim, it is time to go.

Some days, I feel super. Some days, music gets my mood. Some days, I am not myself. Some days, I feel like hiding in a box. I write my story most days, but sometimes my story writes me. When the ogive of the writer wears blunt, I reflect at where I stand. Then, I sharpen my mind, kindle my heart, and prepare for the next hand. ; )

Fire monkey fallen to ground, whom should we inculpate for the state in which you are currently found?

Did tumble, as well, organ grinder’s box? Broken handle in mandrel resets to new key to music’s tocks.

Broken heart prescinds from sight of lifeless arms. Can it be resuscitated–all of street monkey’s charms?

Jacques Bonhomme will save the day? With both headphones and self-crocheted scarf, he’s welcome to lift up for play. ; )

Is reality me or am I dimidiate–the whole being both here and in the reflection of a less-suffering self?

When antics of the wiseacres and pathetic persons leave the self with no defenses, roborant aid comes from what lies underneath–the intangible parts that complete our identity. : )

When life has milked all the happiness from your soul, leaving you aimlessly wandering around dullsville, find a sacred cow grazing grasses between copples and pet it oh-so-gently to see how cow-rma remoooves pungitive points from the heart and turns abstruse thoughts into comprehensible ones. ; )

Harbour has been met; ready to board next steps.

Opera House homes stages for sonic idols, edicules, perhaps, for the musically faithful.

Temperatures drop at dawn. Will temerity lead some to dip into beach’s brother?

Hand-wringing mates help not their cause when foodies are booked; hopeful hands try places not yet looked.

Ratiocination brings crew to gallery on time, but eyes’ emotions lightt for the walk of arts.

Thank you, Sydney Sunday, for a resplendent rendezvous with you; let us do it again soon. ; )