The stream (all workshops)
If you think they're greedy now
wait until we're face to face,
when all that's left of our burning world
is a sampling of the race.
Do you suppose they will change
or go down ever scheming,
never admitting they were the cause
of mankind's cleaning.
Never did mind
doing the washing,
and I always pitch in
when something needs doing.
I slip on my work clothes
strap the tool belt on,
tie up my boots
there's work to be done.
ovid sound
awake
was that a winds brush
a dream rest speaking time
thoughts hiss
the machine drum run
if I was broken and ill embodied
I am not special
just ordinary
breathing dreams in my corner
Dogged is a Life
Real dogs don’t take their
shoes off at the door,
leave no personal footprints
on your pristine floor.
They slide through lives
like ancients on speed,
giving nothing, only sampling
to fulfil their need.
Their tales are never waged
to fit in any others suit,
but the tail always stands
tall with a solid root.
Never snarling unless a
snarl is so required,
in control, although they
at times seem wired.
Sommit a poem
one every one luv
but I cant spell every word
the ones you see above
but I write them any way
hoping some one will reed
this bs that comes out
to all you i feed
I'm on my knees
Begging anyone please
But no one seems to see the storm
Beaneath the sea's calm facade
The twisted mishappen shapes
Dwelling below...
At the core
I'm afraid they will be freed
Unable to go ignored
I feel them seeking revenge
Hunting for fresh untried food
Prey and game
I want to warn others
Tell them to run away
Be wary of me
See me coming?
Run
But I need their help....
Now where does that leave me?
.
poetry of flowers
you are superb I’m still on the first step
of the ladder ....
who will hold my hand
and
pull me up
but you!
lovely flowery poetry
all about roses and daffodils,
lotus, jasmine and what have you…
yeah lily’s for mummy too
the smiling pansies
and
the purple hue
are some flowers we all love
such is it the way of nature to please
ah poetry of flowers
tis
or is?
Beginning on October 19th, 1914, one of the bloodiest battles of World War One was fought near Ypres in Belgium. This poem, while written from a young German soldier’s point of view, is a tribute to all those who lost their lives during that terrible forty days.
Crisp the autumn breeze that combs this foggy air,
Slowly creeping through these Belgian fields;
A bitter breath of coming winter, we taste the morning dew
Whose frosty edge foretells harsh winter’s yields.
seasons
coming and going
time over time
be it cooled or warm
i like all seasons
ain't it fun
how they come and go
bringing new life every time they come around
making new changes
time over time
i like all seasons
be it windy or sunny
sometimes i long for other one's to come
time over time
i know they will come around again...
the bulb burns dull and bored
lacquer and Formica
faded mirror and ghosts
clouds etched beyond the
broken trellis tops
the stale taste of a soda pop
Taste the spicey sweat of
Mid October
fringe collar deeds
the thick plate glass
jewelled with humidity
runs clear..vision bleed
Our cornucopia
I call
the dark reciever wish
press earnest mouths
down static wells
through copper labryinth city hell
you say
"wassup?"
Tizzy was told her parent died early on
Lonely though, she lived with her granny
On whose birthday, an uncle stopped over
Their dotted paths had crossed in time past
His largesse to the niece met a yearning need
Of care cloaked in sugar daddy’s garment
This did not go well with the aged woman
With avowed secrets locked in her heart
He strangled the ‘aunty’ to have his way
Overwhelmed by car gift and overseas trips
Her campus boyfriend suffered in sorrow
With barefaced lies, she dribbled him through
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