Writing is like vomiting...It's something inside of you that has to come out...I've never tried, but I don't believe that vomit can be organized...you just have to let it splatter.
In a similar fashion to ink blots Various skull shapes gather 'round The skeletal mini blind panorama Various forms of madness play out Like stale jazz All under the lamp with the dunce cap And electric yellow snot The insects pay homage to this diety of the night With bizarre kamikaze rituals... And here I was Just turning it on and off... Oh what horrors and discoveries Await the drinker of blood In the midnight mass
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
The Gone World Gone (Poem for a Dead Man) (07/01/2016)
Skeletal Blues (07/01/2016)
Liquid Hell (06/01/2016)
Viewed 415 times since 06 Jan 2016
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