Which human was born before the hills,
Or which man measures the age of a rock
Callop on the flank of bucklers,ready heaps
And his flame of wet branches, dry up
The trees and dead stones of horns in graphite dust

i was great once

no

i was

and i’ll wipe that fucking smirk
off your stupid face

you sit there,
laughing
i hope you burn

you think you’re a charmer
yeah these idiots
may flock

hold you up
on a 10 foot
pedestal

but i’ll get a chainsaw
cut you down
and then we’ll see

who's smiling

When Poets depart

at times we have a heavy heart
when good poets depart
why did poetry ensue?
no one knew

but on these sites one needs to take care
be aware faces we see are different
and
heaven knows why at times becomes indifferent

but good poets surface up all at some time
and
so within reach one does in poetry climb

but
keep it in mind
poets leave as does time
far behind.....
in the folds of eternity
where to search
no poet has any time!!!!!

Depth hot tease
stirs motes of life
protesting rise
the waltz pressed
up against the flesh
of sleep
to gasp and strain
exposed
hungry for the sky

Growing
tasting the fingers
of rain sluicing
rushing
drowning filling
washing
basking drying
climbing

Love is a bloom
gulping fast the
nutrients of taste
bruised by the
beating of hail
and scolded with
frost