Of cause it’s all lies, it always is

Of cause it’s all lies, it always is Keep it real keep it real keeps it real. But where’s the substance Where on earth are the facts? They talk about clandestine wars…
Cherry

Killing myself

I’m here to kill myself.

The Absolute Beginners

January 1987. The song in heaven, ‘Reet Petite’ Jackie Wilson.

LeggingsRoyalescam8@601+com

more leggings

If only we could remember the poems that we dream

Can you imagine that? To wake and not have missed a single word? I need a dream stenographer. Dream Secretary.

The Hardy Birds of Autumn

The hardy birds of Autumn still seem so bright and gay.

Blood

It’s Friday. It’s cold and rainy. The air smells like winter and the hot coffee smells like you want to curl up on the sofa with a good book and a black, purring cat.

the reluctant shrink

had s/he listened to his/her friends who’d done their time prior in the dives & clubs that the city churned, or to those that were still slinging slop to the fishes gulping down

cemetery walk

passing through stillness where death has been laid where the crows go to schmooze where the wind blows the grass & tickles the Autumn leaves across the plain---

right on schedule

9 am. & he’s right on schedule, barking up a storm, no doubt happy to be alive, happy to be a big healthy dog doing his dog thing only moments away from one of my windows in

Pages