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Pry Vice Eye See
No demarcation point between public and private, doorless toilet I call poetry Trousers banding my knees as I evacuate my guts From doorframe turtlesnap apertures squeeze shut.
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Projection or Reflection
I’m seeing myself reflected in art I see In the gallery, panting with shock I am near seizure There I am hidden in a Bosch painting Below a bulbed onion dome, dark-eyed demons forcing a flail up my parted arse.
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Ambitious
Moderate white whale, one thing not to fail at the first Whole life a farce, my art won’t last alas They sense my thirst, fleeing or aversion is their urge Like I disturbed the watering hole, burst forth foaming girthy-jawed from virgin earth.
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Naked Poetry
I’ve gone far coasting on disregarding remarks from those I mark daft Deft nibbed I pen my sentence and bend a gavel, glimpses of glinting diamonds hinting perfection in between The lines haunting my mind, a sense of dark divinity confined to doorless infinity Increasing obscenity of my dreams begin questioning my sanity All is…
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Tempus fugit
Two years since I started the blog. Never been happier. Hope you are happy too, reader. Much love x
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Alchemisland 