Poetry

Blackberry picking with daughter
A heavy summer's day: arms, legs scratched reaching farther, dropping them in a small bin, then a bigger bucket we hear birdsong and from their soggy field some cows stare at us. A sudden smile comes over me. I am glued into the scene, berries are raining in my bin and my mouth is sweet ...
Portrait with a little pain
The constant buzzer of pain that ugly fleeting empire sending out its cavalry to agitate my nerve tissue, to sabotage every sound, every smell, every taste and make me want to be replaced but fail.
Hello pain, be welcome in my upper jaw. You will find an armchair. Make yourself comfortable. Stay as long as you like. I'll try to be quiet while you enjoy my hospitality. Could I offer you something to drink? Assorted snacks? Do you want to listen to some music? Tell me the story of your ...
Anti-war rap
your war-mongering sounds cheap like sophistry collecting malappropriated trophies for your bloated ego we don't like that amigo, spare us your credo of greater Russia or security for your Moscovite pricks you ain't nothing like the horseman on your old profile pic you small dick coward will be pounded by hiMARS and howitzers all of ...
The tiny sheepdog was very experienced, but the flock panicked and he died in the wool.
A world of only poets
Sitting on a heated front seat of a car my cock quietly hard the driver silent, old rock music slowly eating the darkness wondering how it is to live as a poet in a world of only poets
The Making of a Misanthrope
They don't believe me, and they split One they goes on and on repeating it The other they says, spitefully, cope! I despise them, and become a misanthrope  
Enough
rice and beans sprouts and greens water and love life itself - is enough