Brain Storming The Conditions Of Life Poem by Carol Paris

The first place on Earth was that of new birth.
The purpose in his eyes filtered her cries.
I sit by the phone many nights when I'm alone.
Modern dance was the mood of my circumstance.
The kiss of life burned the angle on the Devil's knife.
True fun rained out from the sun.
Clouds of thunder sparked pure wonder.
The leaves on the tree cried, "It's so nice to be free".
The whine of addiction was Daddy's prediction.
The center of the moon fed to the population from the side of the spoon.
This old dope, today rings forth new hope.
Perfect lips whispered the claws of change.