Poetry Drafts

dreaming; not dreaming

Poetry Drafts / / By

the lack of physical contact, not to mention intimacy, will ultimately be the trigger that severs the stream of life from me. To make it swift I beg you to use the guillotine, anything else would just extend, this nightmarish dream.

our time will come

Poetry Drafts / / By

I did not leave any
strangle marks this
time, I am sure but
aye to be sure to be
sure one should not
rely solely on the
eye as the I might
falter as the eye
once did. The noose
uncomfortable, the
gibbet well tended,
the circle of life
again meeting the
hand of the
headsman. I will
rejoin the wheel
of time once more,
be patient I beg
you, our time will
come.

message in a bottle

Poetry Drafts / / By

aujourd’hui / today / idag

desire require presence

maintenant / now / nu

focus as there was no tomorrow

plus tard / later / senare

becomes what you make of 

the now

became (void)

Poetry Drafts / / By

as I became aware
building up became stacking needles of pine
as I became aware
settling down became sitting down
as I became aware
pause for breathing became breaking of heart
as I became aware
tickling feet became turned backs at night
as I became aware
the plan became
void

Badger Whiskey #9

Poetry Drafts / / By

imperiallefty:

Single malt badger
Pouring one out for the homies
Sipping in somber respite

Single malt badger
Scoring on the DL with the hunnies
Succeeding in love despite

Single malt badger
Touring desire with when it’s sunny
Drinking in a day long nightlife

Sing malt badger
My spirited spirit animal of sorts
I got you tattooed on my liver from out days in court.

prompted by @circle-no-10

Cheers!

f* (sequel #1)

Poetry Drafts / / By

not sure what is worse

fruit flies hovering around you daily tipple 

or having smacked the life out the f*

it gets the final laugh 

and drowns in it

God vs. 12% mortgage

Poetry Drafts / / By

and as the autumn leafs start dropping
I frown and lose myself in thought
is love perhaps reserved only
for those between the age of hope
and the chains of a 12% mortgage?
what of those searching souls; longing
the frail and withered corpses tumbling
tumbling with the weeds;
an OK Corrall backdrop
with the sheriff dead,
the coyote howling
the hero riding off
in solitude
never searching
always finding
reason to stay
mortgage free

Poetry Drafts / / By

chucklingpecan:

It’s either
an outgrowth
of power cords
or a salad.
The first bite
will reveal.

There’s nothing to add. Tears are flowing. Brilliant as always!

Poetry Drafts / / By

vasilinaorlova:

One girl was local. She shopped local, loved local, and was buried local.

I know a boy wishing he remained local, never escaping, searching but never finding what always had been within reach, at the local. As Death calls he might still make it back, empty handed.

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