freeverse, poetry, writing

The Tiny Man

He stands on a thimble
overlooking an ocean of thread,
their loose ends swaying, kelplike
in the wake of a passing fan.
A sail, in the guise of scrap material catches his eye.
And without a second thought he
dives
headfirst into the tabletop.
The colorful strands of kelp carrying him
to the depths
of unconciousness.

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poetry

Sorry

My heart hurts,
and it is not okay
that I hurt you today.
But I don’t always get
how to keep my tongue in check,
and I don’t always sense
you’re already feeling tense
so even though-there’s ice in your eyes
I would still like to apologize
for those thoughtless words.
I’m a silly turd.

opinions, poetry, writing

For Your Information or When Trump Met Zuma

FYI
in 2018 you can reuse calendars from 1945
what a time to be alive
when: post collonial powerhouses are crippled
by the mighty stupidity of vain men.
And we, in the shadow of their vanity deny the insanity
of: salaries that have no relation to inflation,
lawmakers that have no place among the thinking human race,
religious institutions that fill our heads with illusions
while we: are carefully weaned by our T.V. screens.

opinions, poetry, writing

I’d Rather Be Writing

Just another rough draft to keep the thoughts flowing.

I don’t know if it’s worse to be
writing instead of working,
or working instead of writing.

All I know is that I
work to strive to succeed,
but write to stay enlightened.

On the one hand responsibility,
on the other-escape from insanity.
When did routine become a fallacy
the daily grind, my stark reality?
What I need to do just doesn’t excite me.
Honestly, I’d rather be writing.

freeverse, poetry

Loosen Up

Still struggling to get those mind muscles loose. So here is another rough-very rough-attempt at poetry.

I drew myself into a corner.
The white walls made me anxious,
too anxious to think, or breathe, or live.
So I scribbled, and doodled, and scratched away at my surroundings
until every sharpie I owned was as blunt
as my thoughts,
But I could breathe again, think again:
I crave the outdoors,
wine outside a goat shed,
an easel overlooking the vineyards,
good, dark, heavy, red wine,
a place where I can be different without losing my sense of self.
I crave the outdoors.