There is sweat and magic in her creases
a fragrant treasure
a fervent secret
there is a flashing
world of neurocracy
there is red
and there is black
there is in fact
a luminous universe
I smile quietly
at this silken craven thought.
lets shuck these green folds of
corn skin that cover me
my kernel is sweet
rows and rows of friends
walking stiffly forward
a drama unplanned, randomly perfect,
an organised chaos
I in my gold pants and flourishing breasts
like waterfalls of flesh
sun bleached dunes
smiling in a tempest of
This is magical…..
where a kernel of corn
is the meaning of life
in it’s grotto
grins upon a hexed cushion
that stinks and smothers.
Excessive rhythmic noise
on my vestibule doors
green with envy and moss.
sparking a heated tumbling
and there is one choice
………..to embrace transparency
…..or ……..shut ………my ………………eyes
Your Brain is a Radio that Does What its Told
Haikus Senryus and Tankas about anything and everything
musings on life | bits of psychology | attempts at poetry
In other countries individuals go to jail and/or die for weblogging. While the bulk of this country makes the internet an extention of T.V.
Let me inspire the possibility of what could be
"where creativity roams free"
The Poetry Monarch.
Sometimes serious, often humorous personal musings on life, death, and everything in between from someone once chased by a killer Canadian goose.
Darkness, delusion, smeared with a stick of butter and laughter. Words collide, they bring forth death!
Hoping to inspire the world one word at a time.
Sharing my poetry to help end the stigma about mental health
well, come on in. bite. chew. spit.
He started Writing, The paper started speaking...