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Tag Archives: Poems
Love Like A Virus
Oh your love Has me in quarantine The only thing The situation’s warranting I feel you in my body, in my blood and in my bones So please shut me up and lock the door and just leave me alone … Continue reading
Five-Day Forecast Over The Amygdaloid Nuclear Complex
Depression is a drizzle Anxiety is sleet And anger is a hurricane That whips you off your feet A cyclone speaks of silence The rain relays regret I can’t predict the weather But I know I’m getting wet.
No More Fecks To Give
I’m feeling frightfully feckless tonight Feckless and reckless and pick-up-the-checkless Loose as the pearls on Bruce Wayne’s mother’s necklace I’m feeling feckless tonight I’m feeling really rambunctious tonight Rambunctious and unctuous and all-full-of-spunktious Let’s start a fight so somebody will … Continue reading
Impermanent Youth
Do I remain in people’s thoughts As they remain in mine? Or am I on the pile of things They gladly left behind? Do I appear in people’s dreams As they appear in mine? Or have I turned to shadow-play … Continue reading
Who Needs Meth When You’ve Got A Library Card?
I went to the doctor and the doctor said ‘No more ideas in that little old head’ So he whipped out a pen and dashed out a prescription For artistic elixirs to cure my conniptions ‘Take one dose of novels … Continue reading
Clean Up The Sides, And A Little Off The Top
“No fear of that.” I’m still thinking of the words, how they felt and tasted as I spoke them Like water, like air, like nothing at all A flavor grown undetectable from its prolific presence in my environment I think … Continue reading
If Music Be The Food Of Love, I Have A Severe Dietary Imbalance
I’m the worst kind of romantic In love with the idea of love Obsessed with infatuation A dreamer who dreams only of dreaming I write odes to ideas Sonnets to silhouettes of people I have never met I’m besotted by … Continue reading
Self-Titled Albumen
My thoughts are an egg Cook for just the right time And out pops an omelet of meter and rhyme My thoughts are an egg Cook for one second less And then the yolk is all runny, and you cut … Continue reading
Posted in Humor, Poetry
Tagged Eggs, I Spent My Morning Writing This Poem And Now I Don't Have Time For Breakfast, Ideas, Poem, Poems
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La Femme Must be Free
La femme must be free You cannot lock her in a tower Tie a string about her ankle Or forswear her from conversing with or knowing other hommes How can you cherish what is chained? How can you treasure what … Continue reading
Never a Dull Moment in the Garden of Kinesthesia
I’d forgotten how it felt to not feel Not hurt, not ache or pain No thrim-throb in the brim-brain No anxieties about now, tomorrow, yesterday No scrumbled thoughts of ‘What’d I say’ This amnesia is electrifying And I want to … Continue reading
