Random Unsorted Drafts

In Grammar Broken

From the Ancient Tales of
The Chaos King and
Wolven Silver,
A shadow of the foretelling
Bent on bringing on their
Ultimate demise,
The whispers of red lips
Lingering & of Truth
Beyond doubt,
From the shadows our
Hero emerges
A fiery mane of invincibility
A sword of chaos equally,
Two thousand words later
The land he found so pleasant
Lay in ruins stretched
In grammar broken,

Failed

Rubber End

& so the story ended
Not with a bang
No balloons popping
But with a whimper
through letting go of
That rubber end,

untied

Filled to its brim
With life —

Wasted

cntx

as I took the truth out of context
out of the realms of really rudely being
the honey badger raged
standing tall on her rear hinds as if
I did not matter; unmattering of
everything – of all that is

as I took the truth out of context
out of her comfort zone
void of zane and zizzzzzz
offering none the less a fiery
funeral parlour amiss

as I took the truth out of context
her smile became and I
fell; the castle of sand my mirage
of fortune

Ghosts: poems in black and white

Ghosts: poems in black and white

proof copy

I received the proof copy of my first book today ๐Ÿ˜Š

I am giggling with excitement as I fend off a torrent of terrifying thoughts ๐Ÿ˜Ÿ

It feels good having created something which turned out exactly how I wanted it. Now all it needs is a few minor tweaks before … I … *scary thought* … publish

No stains / no significant markings / I can still trace your subtle patterns / the split toungue spitting acid / a venom from a heart too young / a surgical instrument masked as caring / kindness and open arms / madness in a bucket / overflowing delusions / pink champagne / no ice

Not long ago I mulled a submission, an attempt to once again serve a higher purpose, to find a place where I could shine, to contribute to the world around, in co-creation bleed my day away & nights of torment to follow dread.

Not long ago I mulled a submission, back when the doors were still wide open.

Not long ago I mulled the sale of my fixed abode, an attempt to find a way out of the maze that had taken hold, a way to once again set me free, to leave the memories behind, to walk down new roads paved with the unknowns of futures untold.

Not long ago I mulled the sale of my fixed abode, back when there were people working & willing to make such purchases.

Not long ago everything seemed possible, not anymore – my dear – not anymore, the future me will find the roads ablaze with the raging crowds of yesteryears, with the wanting and the searching, the hungry and the weary, not knowing what to do or where to find the safety needed to keep going, until the day of Reckoning & the final bill – outstanding

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