Pure-zen

Primary tabs

TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryPoliticians do you listen? Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryThe purpose of mankind? Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryTake in the forms of nature Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryThe hour glass Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryThe secret's in the packing Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryRupert Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryThe New Year Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryPast lives Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryIs your muse heading home? Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryIs there colour in the darkness? Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryGremlins Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryIt's the handle on your door Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryI have a little secret Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryIs there a point? Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryFrustration Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryFloating cars across the Midlands Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryDeep rivers of discomfort Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryFools and love Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryEternity Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
StoryFine line Pure-zen011 years 6 months ago
Forum topicspam alert hudsonmoon2313 years 1 month ago
StoryAffinity Andrew G Bailey316 years 10 months ago
Forum topicCherry Picks Noticeboard2917 years 9 months ago
Forum topicInspiration Point tcook617 years 10 months ago
Forum topicpure zen ivoryfishbone617 years 11 months ago

My stories

Transition 3

Everything has place and purpose, its the balance that’s awry. Its in relationship to spirit that man will finally rely.

Transition 2

I do not need a blank canvas, that purchase gives me none. But I do need your attention and some words that you’ve begun.

Transition - Ruperts intro

From the viewpoint of spirit, your path’s a web and not a line. The threads that join together breach infinity and time.

There’s still water in the well

The old prophets have a story, that they still wish to tell. Death doesn’t broker silence, there’s still water in the well.

When looking in the mirror

You’re tumbling and you’re falling through rivulets of rhyme, You see the world in couplets, rhythm beating out each line.

Pages