Sleep
is for dreamers
to hide
from the dawn

My visions
returning
and will
mostly gone

Three days
since I’ve
woken
the memories dance

All over
the future
in destiny’s
— trance

(The New Room: September, 2024)

an instant coffee poem scribbled
on the back of an iPhone, and mailed
to the motley crew hanging in these
environs

my request, your bequest
<>

never had an article of clothes
that required a hem to be tailored,
but you my daredevil darlings,
bring me now
you &  yours,
a hem of thy choicest choosing

that I may taste your dew,
this and thus
enlivened,
I will love you,
far more than forever,
beyond my overwhelming
incarcerated capacity
to absorb,
but to exist and seize
the dew of your souls,
each an adrenaline ephedrine
shot to our mutualized brain
~
our soul’s temporal abode

the meaning plain!

you too
will forever be
within
the unlimited scope of this script
on the universe of the internet,
far longer than any intimate moment
we could share ,

a sensory
beyond the physicall

I beg you
please!

9:19 am
Thurs Sept. 12
two thousand and twenty four

I love a sunburnt country,
but now the land's ablaze.
the oxygen we breathe has turned to dust
yet our request for help is denied.
I love a sunburnt country,
but there's not much left to last.

Firefighters aren't getting paid,
Neither are their bills.
yet our leader claims we're all fine
but he can afford to jet away.

The wildlife is damaged.
Koalas are losing homes.
much like the population
as the fires rip through their walls.

I love my sunburnt country,
but this has gone on too long.
while it's nice you're in hawaii Mr. Morrison,
everyone else is left to stand alone..

"Last thing I remember was being in
This death spiral tail spin
A nightmare I woke up still in
My question?
Why then
Should I bother to wake up again?
Does anyone have a good explanation
Nearing even a distant point of reason?"
He asked in desperation

©2024