the cult of youth (Remove filter)
Served by the Slice
served by the slice
this body, cut through in the redesign for a different life,
whistles a frayed remembrance leaving naught but remnants
when falling for the suicidal hiatus of a tethered tale
in these days, of the child’s exultation, sing your song
as a lyrical dog chases damsons and damsels and the first and
furriest flavour the dustiest corpse of trees; dark...
Thursday 28th February 2013 10:53 pm
Recent Comments
Nigel Astell on June 2025 Collage Poem: You Watched the Trains Come, You Watched the Trains Go
3 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Poetry Is Pain
8 hours ago
David RL Moore on Too late too late
1 day ago
Rolph David on Love The Light, Embrace The Rain
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on still, the Earth breathes
1 day ago
Marnanel Thurman on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on where shadows do not drown
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
1 day ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on The Policemen Arrest The Men.
1 day ago