Poetry
-
It’s 4:20pm; Do you know where your children are? Seriously, they have the best stuff. Today, I tell a little ditty about a naughty waiter, show you where not to fly your T-16 back home, and what you should get your nephew for his or her sixth birthday!
-
spitting through gnashed teeth,come demise or flood,my art, my soul, my flesh,it will matter,I am done being the ever pleasant,ever amicable,ever agreeable, good girl, I will not longer be the shadow, of the entity that seeded an entity,I am my own fucking person, If I want something, I myself will pursue,glaring, bleeding, sweating uphill,no more…
-
Porch Swing Poetry at your service.
-
It’s poetry I write in my porch swing. That’s all.
-
Sirens & gunfire Owners and empires The city exhales chaos And that mask hasn’t fit since the last apocalypse Microscopic Katrina’s rot still Arsonist tendencies veil the infrastructure’s missteps Poor all looks alike That’s what they want to say; say it, cowards Trust funds and white trash; blood blind taste-tests failed Undercover; under covers Broke…
-
I like to microdose death,many hours a day,I slow my breath,and in my bed I lay,I close my weeping eyes,darkness encloses me,it’s demise without goodbye, the reaper still holds the key,I feel him,he is polishing his scythe, he’s muttering, “grim, grim, grim,” he is awaiting his tithe,maybe I’ll die soon,maybe it’ll be later,I’m wrapping in…
-
I found this poem tucked away in a random folder, as well as some stuff I don’t even remember writing! I remember this, though. I moved into an office, hoping GWP would turn into something I no longer have the desire or energy for. It was in a high-rise in downtown Dallas, and be damned…
The Gonzo Wolf 