lung butter rum butter never meant to live this lo (Remove filter)
hospital gown green (06/28/2015)
burnt bridges grown back by the flesh of sacrifice;
regrown and abraded: ground up as red obsidian
made for careless feet, tapping on solemn, hallowed ground
Bled dry and fed back to the living.
Sigh
so much time spent making noises
mouth-mimicks hiding treasure like a throat infection
coy as is want to do, need to be: my predilection
Parroting:
Insidious, obsidion, ponchus pilot myrmid...
Monday 29th June 2015 1:59 am
Recent Comments
Jon on Innocents' Deadly Foe
1 hour 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
11 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