Poems

 

We Don't Have Cucks In Ireland

We don’t have cucks in Ireland It’s the tourists that wear the green hats As it is, words fight for a place here In the noisy desperation hall Where...
Gold cherry
Poem of the week

The Treetops

The treetops never wait for you And fields are incorrigible when You finally notice them That’s when they call you ‘Featherbrain’ After when the...
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I've Seen Exit Signs

I’ve seen exit signs everywhere From San Francisco to Shanghai And they all blaze the same way Sometimes red like that blood you see In Italian...
Cherry

Marshes

Take it easy wind wind You’re blowing echoes of Hannah’s boots in the mud The words we used for love were dust Blackened in these fields by whispered...