Baby, cry out loud - no one is going to listen to you. They - all of them - are busy plucking flowers. And you belong to a place where flowers pluck themselves.
For a while, I have not written anything which rhymes so I think I will just write one, now, about the gut-wrenching deeds of troubled times, and all which was not heard, smelt, felt, or saw. Moments later, a shot of neat whiskey giggles down in a gulp, and thoughts dis-assemble to form words; nostrils… Continue reading Writing a Poem: Live
I am the bitterness of alcohol, and the nausea of cigarettes on a hungry stomach. I am the facial expression during an orgasm, and the last wipe under regret which follows. I am the advertisement of a gentleman's death in a daily newspaper, and the all-giver saint's ad on a passenger train's window. I am… Continue reading I: Part 2
Black, ragged bag, lying in the corner - malfunctioned zip; reminds me of college.
I desire to be on the mountains and smell a blooming flower, maybe lick a few drops of dew, and quench the thirst that fuels the fire burning in my heart with desire. Or I could just be in her arms - in the cushion of her breasts.
Fo a couple of weeks, I have let go of my sense of reputation like a lioness lets go of her cubs. I have followed my heart's desire to the rainforest - its unexplored streams, the chirp of birds, the flutter of leaves, the rattle of snakes; all in the curls of the length of… Continue reading Reputation
Well, it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe Even you don't know by now And it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe It'll never do somehow When your rooster crows at the break of dawn Look out your window, and I'll be gone You're the reason I'm a-traveling on… Continue reading Don’t Think Twice It’s All Right