I hated nightmares
but bad dreams make the world
a far nicer place
Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 5:47 AM UTC
contemporary philosophy
of a city chicken head
dipsh*t slapstick
harry got a hat-trick
it's a modern soul sound
sang a lady of the hard ground
that no-good green earth
eat soil
spoil
baby's late for the water birth
Mar 21, 2020
Mar 21, 2020 at 4:31 AM UTC
There was a little old lady
And I guess her name was Toad
Cos' every time I'd see her
She would ribbit, croak and moan
There hoppin' over potholes
Whilst I was whistlin' on my own
Bet I'd see her later on
Low rollin' dow-n the road
I joined her by a river
We were standing toe to toe
I hissed like a loud hog snake
And her arms did let me go
The water came a rushin'
My back was brown and wet all through
But her legs they weren't a wadin'
She gleamed as I turned blue
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 4:00 AM UTC
He walked into the empty room
to his knees I saw him fall
on the window was a mirror
no escape from his own soul
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 8:42 AM UTC
There's a land I entered,
In my reflection I see it entered me too!
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 10:18 AM UTC
theres distance
distortion
and I cant get my thoughts in order
thats comfort, mind contortion
sort of boredom
as I saway my head the music picks it uup and
up and dow and up
my arms a-reachin for the keys and speak easy through my fingers typing slowly nice typeface in line with my mind that races ah snails pace
how can confusion be a crime whn all there is is wasted time
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 8:37 AM UTC
O solitude! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,—
Nature's observatory—whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
'Mongst boughs pavillion'd, where the deer's swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.
But though I'll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin'd,
Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 3:52 PM UTC
The words whispered to him
Condoned choice
Callings are pre-determined
And thus,
Accidentally straying from fate,
Only the old who wrote the book
On beholding the untold
Could aid the escape of our Living Receiver
Behind his absent eyes
Cerebral devices splice
his dreams and memories
Concocting criminal schemes
And fictitious beliefs
Provoking defiance in face of his deficit;
Obscene offences against an act of
salacious pretence
Donning falsified bones on a
Deep black slab of cotton
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 3:15 PM UTC