Hum…I suppose I’m real special for you to have created another profile on DUP just for me Then up and down your page ran down your mother’s whorish pedigree I will eat your heart then burn it in the dark Prick your skin like it’s a fire spark You do not know who the fuck you are dealing with Place false taste buds in your mouth, whereas, you’re think you eating on chunks of shit I have been peaceful from the path I’ve made In my limelight you still hungrily crave
Rumple under your ass again Like a snake in your mind I...
jilted thoughts scream for attention in the hall of ideas they make themselves known clamoring to be written mocking if you don't write it someone else will
so I take my muse very seriously kooky or not I pick up my pen writing what comes bursting forth sometimes channeling the immortal other times nothing much but I wait and see amazed, others are on my wavelength it's a beautiful connection us poets share
speaking a language only we know metaphors deciphered each with a different interpretation giving even the...
It's late I want to write I don't want to read nor scry
I don't want to design consumeristic graphics I simply want words to emerge as the Moon from behind clouds illuminating the field while I, as Ruth, glean what's left behind before threshing the miniscule amount into an ephah of poem to carry home ~
As she blew out the old dusty lamp she caught a cold glimpse of her darkened eyes staring back from the ink etched mirror her life flashes before her so many painful regrets fill her mind her once loving words no longer carry their existence as she gently closes her eyes for another long dark filled night the final frigid winter sets deep within her bones
One of these days your ego might just soften up enough to let you see and then admit that you are not god’s gift to poetry and that you really don’t possess the mastery of English and its verse that you so often claim lies in your hand, and you'll concede, despite your implications otherwise, that you are actually not privy to the sum of all there is to know about the bardic art.
‘Till then it is the driving force that makes you falsely claim in knee-jerk ways that those who...