Category Archives: Poem
Crescendo
I sit behind you My hands tracing the curves Of your breasts Your waist And you hips Your bum And your thighs But all I see is a sonnet
This past week has witnessed the death of me
I’ve been omitting words from conversations I’ve been forgetting some letters in the words I write Like the N in ‘Gree’ I don’t even know why I had written down the word green I thought that today was Sunday, not
This past week has witnessed the death of me
I’ve been omitting words from conversations I’ve been forgetting some letters in the words I write Like the N in ‘Gree’ I don’t even know why I had written down the word green I thought that today was Sunday, not
Thank you, thank you not
Thank you for reminding me how great flip-flops are Thank you for the days that I woke up with a smile Thank you for being my muse, and inspiring me to write all that I did about you Thank you
Thank you, thank you not
Thank you for reminding me how great flip-flops are Thank you for the days that I woke up with a smile Thank you for being my muse, and inspiring me to write all that I did about you Thank you
Dreamcatcher
I hung you up on the wall You thought I was hanging you up to dry You thought that I didn’t want you around But, you were the only thing that I wanted And that’s why I hung you up
Dreamcatcher
I hung you up on the wall You thought I was hanging you up to dry You thought that I didn’t want you around But, you were the only thing that I wanted And that’s why I hung you up
The lodger
You’re a black hole Stuck in a constellation’s body Like birthday letters I don’t quite know what to make of you
The lodger
You’re a black hole Stuck in a constellation’s body Like birthday letters I don’t quite know what to make of you
What did I do in my previous life?
I am male, and twenty-five years old I have the physical ailments of an eighty year old male The mind of a fifty year old male in crisis The longings of a thirty-five year old female who’s divorced And she
What did I do in my previous life?
I am male, and twenty-five years old I have the physical ailments of an eighty year old male The mind of a fifty year old male in crisis The longings of a thirty-five year old female who’s divorced And she
October
You come to me, your Jesus, With legs spread, begging. Sitting there, nude, as an Unravelled mystery. But, I am your shackles. Holding You down, stroking your Conscience. Your thoughts Drip onto my tongue. You Cry out that you cannot
October
You come to me, your Jesus, With legs spread, begging. Sitting there, nude, as an Unravelled mystery. But, I am your shackles. Holding You down, stroking your Conscience. Your thoughts Drip onto my tongue. You Cry out that you cannot
My love is a blues guitar
Pop the latches Open up my chest Dust me off and Tune my broken heart Strum your fingers Along my ribcage And maybe Just maybe I’ll play you a tune
My love is a blues guitar
Pop the latches Open up my chest Dust me off and Tune my broken heart Strum your fingers Along my ribcage And maybe Just maybe I’ll play you a tune
LITTLE TALKS 