Thought I’d experiment.
Take a stab at the moon;
hoped you wouldn’t mind.
Thought I’d experiment.
Take a stab at the moon;
hoped you wouldn’t mind.
Having read Ewan's deservedly cherrypicked "Where Were You When..." (I watched events unfold in my office on the internet) I have decided to post this old poem of mine
Inspired by a recent documentary, this poem may offend, so please read carefully.
I gots monsters on my fingers
When I type, their dead skin lingers
When I shove a spike, down through my chin
When I suck hard
An’ inhale high within
When I look up to the sky
Some folks will tell you
about the beauty of Eagles soaring,
great owls of learning,
of proud-chested hawks,
or doves with feathers as soft as velvet
and voices soft as silk
I have no views on politics
To me
They’re all the same
Faceless morons
Desperate
To board the
Ego Train
Stroke me
Stroke me
Stroke me
Can you feel my power?
A Lesson In Long Distance Love,
for Bazza Bond, who meant the stars to me xx
make me into an image
which flies into oblivion, embraces
bliss, turns into a burning light
which burns out
when all things are seen...
do not, have
pity on me Lord,
I look from the outside
Through careless windows
Left uncurtained
And note that life goes on.
A different kind of life
Behind each window.
A new created world
Behind each clear pane.
You're not even that attractive but -
I've fallen for you,
Yes, because you remind me of Her,
Your lips shaped so smooth;
They could be placed on a Grecian statue
In the Louvre,
First thing in the morning,
I check my facebook, e-mail
and a couple literary sites
if I've written something that "speaks to me" :
occasionally, I wake every hour
O Pandora, we have lost,
There can be no golden chest,
The immortals don’t know best
And we know less than them at most.
And we will never be remembered,
We will never be forgotten
IPOW try to guess who, before you look at the link...
I'd like to write about happy things
like Southern Oregon hills rolling and green,
like bizarre Thai instruments that with wondrous melody sing,
or peaceful, pretty hippie girls