Wind Talker

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Wind talker he isn’t but it will tell stories, true or not reinvented or designed, it will tell a story and it will make the town front page magazine, the church bulletin and breaking news in one two punch.

If you want your skeleton to stay in the closet, tell it to yourself or to whoever will listen and promise not to tell, your ears only more likely but how would you want it to stay hush-hush when the gossip caravan found itself in a mattress sliding down the ravine of disbelief faster then a penguin?

Yes, I want an answer alright but I wanted it to stay locked up but the story found itself waving at the best truth patrol persecutor there is, the bird up in the sky who attempted to deliver its own side of the story by trying to knock me out cold and attack me for no reason. You think I am making this up? Ask that of my phone. Its broken heart won’t lie.

©️ Angela Aguiar



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When beauty comes from within, even the landscape changes. It becomes colorful and radiant. It transcends souls!

©️ Angela Aguiar


Color is…


Life. It is love. It is celebration. It is the sound
of the drum echoing in the evening.
The decadent flow of a dancer hopping to the beat of her own story
the stitches to her soul.
Color is fruits, vegetables in your countertop,
the fish, the meat in your plate, the cocktail at the bar.
Color is liquified, blend. It sparkles.
It is juicy.
It is the trampoline, the tambourine on the hotel balcony
the blood in your vein
the color of your hair, your eyes,
the sugar in your pie.
Color is your heart, your emotions, your feeling
threatened by the colorless water,
tasteless transparent!

©️ Angela Aguiar