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Death May Be The King Of Terrors
Death May Be The King Of Terrors
Each brush stroke of a word painter
Smeared bloody crimson red
Seen through eyes that recognise
The things that can’t be touched
Behind accumulated layers of gore
Where shadows are the surface
What is felt is hidden behind
What is seen
So your mind fills in the gaps
gives corporeality to the phantom
even as the scalpel ni...
Tuesday 14th April 2020 2:16 pm
The Trade Name
The Trade Name.
When the green fairy
kisses my lips
with sweet anise,
I take the grand wormwood path
just for jolly, wouldn’t you?
Cachous,
to mask her breath
of juniper.
A road
to mothers ruin.
The gas-lit fog
cloaks the backstreet
opiate dens,
where wretched
addicts lie.
Pastry faced women,
lifting ski...
Monday 11th March 2013 2:37 pm
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