It runs amok inside of my head.
It arrogantly prances as if I were dead.
It thumbs its nose whenever I try
to quell its intelligence-insulting lie.
It bleeds the eyes with the morning news.
It voids in me with its monstrous views.
It winds me up as a talking head,
then perturbs me at night when I go to bed.
Sliding along, biding our time,
or still soaking up the trumpeted slime,
Tuesday 13th July 2021 5:35 pm
the old windmills
in Spain, slowly turning
large cloth blades
turning and grinding
ancient grains of the past
lined up in a row on a hillside
waiting for Don Quixote
to mistake them for giants
with his sidekick Pancho
he attacked them
only to get his lance
caught in the canvas blades
thought he had been tricked
by an evil...
Sunday 24th January 2021 4:47 pm
(Song for politicians)
Great view from my Ivory Tower
The window is frosted, but I still feel the power.
Savile suite so I feel the part
But I like to pretend I got it straight from Primark
I feed my…
Flock through the magical lense
My sincere smile upon your telly transcends
Fully trained not to give a ...
Thursday 21st January 2021 6:57 am