Why eat your oatmeal when you can drink it? The true breakfast of champions.
1 week ago - 
6
6
If a person dies in a city and no one cares, does it make a sound?
Timbers, like men, fall unsounded
Redwood pays no heed to birch
What good is an ear that does not hear?
An eye which does not cry?
What good a tongue which does not mourn?
Whilst to earth those fallen lie
On waking
Ne’er felt I a wakefulness to leave me so bereft.
Than when in sleep you sang to me, then, with my sleep, you left
A playful wind blows
Gently caresses the face
She pulls me onward
Perhaps I should take more time to write …however, the hours seem shorter than my patience and I oft am left with just my glass and the remains of the day.
1 month ago - 6
6 You, Blow, My Mind,
I like to mack truth
fact true, that who inside your heart;
no different than a crack tooth
Eyes glow, times slow, even if the pace grow
ready for a round again, feeling like I pass Go
The high’s great, high take, but in the absence of the former
only then I see the stakes; feel the shakes.
A rose will still remain a rose
Wher’er the bud does settle
Whether in the heights of love to pose
Or, cast down amongst the nettle
1 month ago - 9
9 Into many wells
I cast down trite desires.
Hopes; but wishes vain
Words on life
If life and death a man must carry
and life the gift that man must bury
love of life which shan’t restore
owes to cries, and cries the more
-
So row now quickly do not tarry
strike the oar my mind grows weary
ferry me across the shore
beneath the veil, beyond the door.
Anonymous asked: What is your age and stature?
My age is ripe
My stature is somewhere between Herculean and drunken writer.
Shaking
Shivering
Falling myself awake
You stir
the blanket about yourself
Like the men who broke in and took the water heater,
you stole my warmth
-
Rising from the floor
shaking, shivering, falling,
the body finally responds
lifts self to glass
lifts glass to self
-
spirits rise, Royally suffused in Crown
finding warmth
still, shaking, shivering, falling
A girl at work is reading Cosmo…it claims to be “the sex issue”…
I’m having trouble thinking how this is not every issue…
My friend desired vulgarity so…..
I once knew a stripper whose heart was amiss
Who’d jerk without joy, who’d talk of the bliss
Of cutting the shackle, of old twig and tackle
Now instead of a man, she’s a Ms.
| *sips coffee | |
| Voice 1: | As I was saying, I like my women like I like my coffee- |
| Voice 2: | Ground up, and in the freezer? |
| Voice 1: | Yes, did I already tell you this one? |
| Voice 2: | No. Though I fear you may have grabbed the wrong tin. |
| *continues to sip coffee |
There once lived a writer east side of The River
Who daily paid tribute, homage to his liver
Who’d toast to the morrow
In spite of his sorrow
Now, even on warm nights he shivers
