Some (hopefully not awful) Poetry

The World’s Great Scab

Cutting itself deep
world’s blood drawn
land blackened, hard
Never healing

Moans, grunting
flakes tear at one another
Wails, shrieking pink flesh
bared raw

Congealing bleeding hardening bleeding again
tirelessly, the great scab claws at its self
starving, depleting the world
Never healing

Blessings gifts, regretted
Stars’ tears boil
on backs of the scab
it roams spreads virulent

Billion legged, toothed, fisted beast
self mutilating, plaguing all the earth
Were that God never spoke its name,
Adam.

Karaoke Night

Ice cubes dance in brown and clear liquors
Beneath faces shadowed by overdrawn collars.
Deafening off key lyrics reflecting
shimmering like broken glass,
Fist clenched she bellows a eulogy
To the may haves and never were.
Wrung out melodies unmasked by the dim lighting.
Wraiths, shadows of memory, dance on the walls
Jubilations reserved exclusively for these
Beings of the past,
Mocking the living statues cemented to the bar
A final wail beneath the decrescendo
The music dies.
The absence of applause.


A moment of silence for the departed.