Tag: art
-
Twist
I’ve got speed dial numbers, influenced unders, Brinks plunder Amount of cash this stinking ash brings Smoking hash, every finger banded by fancy rings If the smell lingers, like the fanny of a tinker, There’s bleach under the sink. Don’t need fixing Don’t need tinkering Fingering her asshole dirtied my pinkyring.
-
Scipio was the first man in Rome to shave daily
Life lived stewardless Nine Inch Nails student Head and heart enholed, like the lobe of a pierced cluas Honking glue from Londis bags at Central Bank, nodding off on a Luas Drooling onto a Colombia jacket Wrigley’s packet blue Passengers laughing, might have pissed her pants. Shit hot fella, trying to steal a teenager’s bag.…
-
Where are you?
Overwritten save Her, assuredly, in her usual place, only different, replaced; Her body a listed vacancy Her given soul a guest Flaying December, duress. Months without undressing. Vagrancy. In her spacious eye’s emptiness, Swinging cats, Shotput stance, Encountering no resistance.
-
Poetry making wound
I am here, my fractured mind. The page still plain, Me, in wait beside the bait Praying, that words will be captured after a time; That something to match my mood can be made However rudely, however vain, however distasteful. On and on and on, until a tennis ball dawn’s Drawn on a saunter-haunted floor,…
-
A sense of something new
Winter fades like Vicar blacks hardwater washed to washy grey Spring yet evades, day 28 of hatefully punctual rain A painful time to be a drain That Spring in my step you promised post didn’t show as yet I made a poor Christmas host; overdoped, low fuel, oppressively looming Christbirth eve night, whichever corner’s least…
Alchemisland 