poems

We are traditionalists
In our village

In the morning
My dad used to

The towers fell
A waterfall of layers
Farted dark smoke
Which travelled to corners or cul de sacs
Bleeding like a mad wound
Breaking skin and bones ripped
Swallowed underground wonder

It's a gorgeous disease
and she was looking at me
with a glass brain shattered
waiting

Her dirty hands bleeding
growing anorexic by the minute
Let me baptize her
with the blood of my sin

Its all about being with the one you love

Life is full of melting moments - we have to enjoy them as often as possible .

Being cut off from someone you love is like being on a sinking ship on a cruel sea with no lifeboat or land in sight

She smiles at eager, grubby hands...

Each of his men and women is at least several men and women, and his lovers learn that we can never embrace any one person at a time, but only the whole of an incoherence, the cluster of voices and be

Do you believe in them?

… make you feel that you’re ever so dim,
and your eyes glaze over, and start to skim,
the meaning is lost, and your mind goes blank
and you wonder if this will soon empty the bank …

Her sole mission, seduce, trap, mangle
From emerald pontoon rectangle
With cunning guile tackle disentangle
Then o'er quarry question mark dangle
From silted, flossed line lure does jangle

Nonsense Poem for beginners.

All mankind repenting sinners

Penetration for each nation.

Frustration calm the Nation.

Superstition for nutrition.

Shame is not just a name.

What are you, twelve years old?

The smell of cherry blossom perfume
and dreams

So many things I wanted to ask you

In twenty-thirteen,
we knew not our own faces but
pop sarcopha-guise

factory priests pressed
Christ-crackers into small hands,
soon balled in hell-fear

in “the world,”

Enter the Wonderful World of a deluded boy committing 'Pokey Bum Wank'.

Though you have been
A fair wind

You took me by storm
Broke my resistance