Hope this message find everyone well. I Ann hosting my first workshop. It will be on abstract poetry. We have room for plenty more participants so pm me or Rula if you are interested. I don't know everything on the subject, but I promiseise to do my best to keep it moving and not be boring.

Thanks

Scott

I have often wondered
what kind of serial killer I would be.
Would I be a psychopath,
a natural born killer
or a sociopath
a killer born of my surroundings?
Would it make a bit of difference
either way?

Who would I hunt?

How would I hunt them?

is a whore best left a virgin

those who live in the moment
only have a moment to live
but it seems a far better fate
then to live the guarded life
for that one moment has already been lived
and life is but a struggle to remember it

Death came to visit again, took stay in my room...she was not my lover...no...she was not my lust...no...she was not...

The world outside sewed its' curtains closed...she took me in her not lover arms...cold as Earth's ice covered belly...empty as a wind blown grocery bag...she was not my lover...no...she was not my lust...no...she was not...

I kicked out the following but don't know where to take it from here. the cliché would be to place a pretty young woman at the door. not certain that's where I want to go unless there is a twist. Please do not provide stanzas, just looking for ideas. Thanks

When Autumn's night began to fall
its leaves undone to Winter's call
a few made way up Walnut Hill
and chopped a chord to stay the chill

incubator
of ghosts...swirling inside...like blood flowing...
lost...searching for an organ...to keep alive...

.the truth...
ignored by selfish pains... empty lungs...
a black cavity...patient to host...creatures of the dirt...
Death.....
the end to beginnings...so they say...

Destiny...a street sign pointing left despite being able to see the road is about to end...calculated moments...irreverence...