A Collection of Nothing In Particular
Just a mish-mash of different stuff with no running theme.
I am implored to tell I am spellbound By the way Wordsworth wrote his verse And then appealed to our better nature To forgive his errant words.
What is to be said of revolution so late in the day? Written after watching a youtube video of poet Shaun Shane.
the painter's wild brush strokes endure the tireless ages and coax my mind to complete the image with textures of my own for a moment i am trapped...
Another week, with a bang, Starts my conscious mind – Heart resists, belief follows on, Skipping, with daisy chain headdress, Down the merry garden path.
If you don't approve the use of the term 'bum hole' in a poem, then this is probably not for you.
These men seem knowing of my love affair, As if some rite of passage or diversion,
What was in that cup? It made her laugh so heartily, That strands of hair were dislodged, And fell about her cheeks Now flushing red, Half with the self consciousness of
We are but a tiny blip in the history of mankind, As every man knows – but pays it no mind, To ponder on the way that it should be, Is as a tiny stone thrown to the sea;
And as I stood, bemused on the sidewalk, A sadness flooded my mind, What became of this bastion of the free?
I got on the plane and looked around, All I could hear, to my horror, abound; An iPhone’s clickity-click shutter sound, I’d be tagged on Facebook before we touched down
Oh, Michael Fish Grant me this wish; ‘Cause I couldn’t be glummer, Predict a dry Summer.
I want to see through Ginsberg's eyes, Tattered prince of the lower East side,
Educate ‘em, Text book to verbatim, Then cry When they ask why You’ve been Living archaically? Seriously?
There was a young lady who swallowed some wine, I don’t know why she swallowed the wine – Perhaps she’ll die.
Plain to me is the pain of unquenchable desire; It leads me nowhere but the beginning.
your shoulders have freckles, though I haven’t just noticed; they’ve been shrugging in my mind for weeks,
It’s not easy; An understatement, But I try to save myself some pain By ignoring my internal monologue.
Young and precious in his words and Unfurling a red carpet to mark his way;