And again, it arose:
The need to shed
To strip the skin of culture off
its seed, each shred
To lay life bare, fresh,
bruised and plain
To devour it whole:
flesh and pulp,
kernel and grain.
And again, it arose:
The need to shed
To strip the skin of culture off
its seed, each shred
To lay life bare, fresh,
bruised and plain
To devour it whole:
flesh and pulp,
kernel and grain.
NeonThe colour of the generation, it
Pronounces loudly all it touches,
And wailing, it tightly clutches
To the electric plastic of bright bar signs,
In ja… Read MoreOn the bus
there is a poem on this bus - something about the
collective sway of bodies as it hits the turn
and the studded whir of the motor's churn
… Read MoreQuietly
at times
the awareness of words
is lost to meaning
but let the soul speak
silence into the clamor and
watch the world
unf… Read MoreThere is no time for poetryThere is no time for poetry
in the mad rush of daylight through
the skies, weighted with suspense
For the night that has lost its depth is now
t… Read MoreClose Your EyesClose your eyes and wonder:
Where am I in this darkness?
When nothing else exists, do I?
The people with their eyelids taped open
have snake-eyes th… Read More