I wonder sometimes do I make sense, and I ask what makes me think I can write.

I Remember when I was healing from the mistaken dosage of medication I was adminestered in the hospital. 

God did not plan for me to come to Him:  Not yet. Still He won't allow me to see myself.  I am tone deaf to my voice, but I am still invited to perform or should I say minester to congregations of people.

Some poetry has been edited, some has not.  I am sure most of the good folk on AD have trouble with my fragments and as my High School English teacher would say, "Do something with that dangling participle."

This sounds like farewell, No it is not, but I will regroup my work. Some day soon with the help of the writers alliance my book, "A Ram In the Bush", should be on shelves.

Forgive me, please don't consider me rude, but some of this work on my site needs to be cleared up--NOW!