I picture her shimmering in the wind
sin, etched on her face
in the shape of a grin
disorderly conduct
a glimmer in her eyes
the girl without a name
always dropping by
and when she comes close
stories rise
about the miles and miles she’s been
looking for frogs to kiss
and now she knows there is no prince
sunday wordle
Sunday wordle: Children of the storm
We are the children of the storm
hung out to dry on the washing line
it’s all the fashion all the rage
to be outraged
a surge of hate
to counter our ‘revolution’
because we’re freaks
not ready for the role of human
Sunday wordle: Tennis ball
The world is a tennis ball
we’re unravelling her skin
we’re only animals
trying to eat
but we took too much
from the feast
We are a shadow on the earth
turning ourselves into stone
with language that separates us
from the fire in the flame
we burned
Sunday wordle: Writer’s block
[Put words here]
I can’t seem to hit the right vein
For the air to take and create.
The team of little critters in my brain
Have taken a break
My enemy
He confesses my torrid soul
He is my inward dialogue
Traversed outward
Sunday Wordle on a Monday
We saturate our souls
with veils
and silky shadows
hiding broken truths
behind music
Writing practice
Trying to cajole myself into practice
Too close to losing it while having something
Preferring to be wild with noting to lose
Drafted
Wired by the violence
That mars our existence
Your face is stormy silence
Drafted into this war
Dragging guilt through the sands
Of the desert
Dry lips
Grenade in your belt at the hips
Shrapnel
It’s a gamble
As you grapple
Life at the end of a barrel
Keep your eyes on the medal
Framed on the mantel
One wrong move
Watch your manner
You don’t know who might wield the hammer
Eyes wide
Never closed
Can’t afford to be a star after death
You want that cigar at the end
Clenched between your teeth
Instead of bullets.
Snake
Haul my ass out of bed
Sharp mind
Forget last night
branded with its scars
a snarling monster in its cage
within the hearth of my heart
Snaking through the veins
till it’s tattooed on my arms
I fart when I pee
I shatter the corridors silence
My neighbours surely getting the gravity of the situation
As I bare a perhaps intimate sound
A sure-fire way of knowing I’m taking a leak
For the crescendo of my farts
Sound like rattling teeth
Echoing and reverberating
Along the walls
Like ping pong balls
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