Blog Archives

A Thank you! poem

A muse in Patron

It don’t matter how many selfies you take.

What matters is if you can accept your own mirror reflection.

No time to flinch.

No time to hesitate.

Free to stride across abundant valleys conjured by a sweeping imagination.

God, when she weeps!

I collect her tears.

Covertly

Thankful for the martyr,

My patron muse.

Crystallized an abundant array of gifts .

Perhaps it is a silhouette…

Perhaps it is a rainbow’s smile illuminating intrinsic hues…

These words could reveal Science’s stuttering staccato voicing his love for nature.

For all her might

For all her brute

Which one is Beauty?

Which is Art?

What if you believed the sky is indeed blue?

On the rocks

Such a sexy little number

I almost cry   out  clocking a  matching lingerie set

Ready for my in

case suite case

I stash away ready  for the moment I hit Downunder.

Laugh at your tears

Say a Huge fuck you to your fears.

This is the week when  bash didn’t do it for me

Sniff

Banging

Pocket pat down

hear a jingle

Family matters is more substantial for me.

Write to recover or die trying to live the life of another.

Freedom will come from sucking the teet from how you was mothered.

Be real

authenticate

deliberate who you gonna get rid of

You know them Twockers,

those who instigate?

I dilly dally

Think,

Cut through the same ally?

Second thoughts

Nah, maybe… another time.

No masterpiece is this stream of consciousness

Too oily for an academic poets diet

Borderline poetry

Keep it on the rocks

Top of the evening to those who think creativity is a bit of alright.