Category: Filí my pockets
-
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.
-
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.
-
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.
-
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…
-
Prayer to Love
Now I write of things pleasant, cleanse my palette of death’s mention An ode to love tender and long lasting, varied and sensual, mysterious Tension of a life spent in willing company, the will subdued but the heart freed Of its foremost need, that deed once signed marks a love that should shine eternal A…