im sorry (Remove filter)
Waiting on a locksmith
brittle 'no' like a teather,
riotous blood and dead weather,
steam and cog alike in Congress,
emulations of embrace, flipped sideways,
handshakes of covered mouths and scared, streaking mascara:
dyed sensuous, brimming with ruin and ruse.
regret: 'baby won't you be my muse?'
cold, deep as dark
spreading, sprawling climax
in a wardrobe of betrayed memories
stin...
Wednesday 28th October 2015 2:02 am
Recent Comments
Jon on Innocents' Deadly Foe
53 minutes ago
Graham Sherwood on Good to be back!
1 hour ago
Mike McPeek on A Somewhat Short Poem About Almost Nothing
4 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Finedon
7 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Haiku for 2025 [No. 28. Politic-toc-tic-toc-tic toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic]
8 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on When Genocidal savagery meets the useless outrageous ignorance of closed eyes
9 hours ago
LEON STOLGARD on When Genocidal savagery meets the useless outrageous ignorance of closed eyes
10 hours ago
LEON STOLGARD on Target
10 hours ago
LEON STOLGARD on Haven for timelessness
11 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on “Song without Words” for Sir Keir Starmer [With Apologies to Fanny and Felix Mendelssohn]
11 hours ago