poetry

Poetry Absurdity: Death is a Contract

09/09/2015 // 5 Comments

Here is your contract. Sign the dotted line. You don’t need any ink. Sign your name with fear. Go on. You’ll get to live! Not without me on your mind. Hand me your contract. Your name is on it. You’ll always hold back. But you’re alive. One day, I will come. Remember? You have a debt to pay. Everyone pays the price. You won’t know what hit you. You’ll never see me coming. It could be today. It could be tomorrow. How about next year? I take my time. I’m impatient. Age never matters. Young or old. Healthy or sick. I’ll come for you. I’m [Click Here To Read Article...]

Poetry Absurdity: Tall Green Aliens

09/08/2015 // 11 Comments

I warned you. I told you this was going to happen—the poetry continues—and…yeah. I don’t know what else to say, or is it write? I don’t know. You know what I’m saying…I hope. I’m going to semi-randomly select a poem from a heaping pile of wordy expressions and basically hope I don’t embarrass myself too much. Sound like a plan? Great! It’s the only one I [Click Here To Read Article...]

Roses Are Red: I Don’t Know How to Rhyme

09/07/2015 // 14 Comments

Guess what? It’s time to exhume the dark tidbits hiding within the shadows of your soul. You know what I’m talking about. The expression is festering inside your gut, but you ignore it. Not anymore. Sit back. Relax. Pick up a pen—let’s journey through the landscape of creativity and self expression. I’m dedicating my first haiku to Poet Rummager—she is an avid artifact hunter, adding a voice to obscure treasures, which she discovered around the world. Or locally. Or where ever. She is also pretty damn good at poetry. Jealous? You should be. **Click here to visit [Click Here To Read Article...]

Memory Lane: Days of Poetry

12/11/2014 // 4 Comments

  I was once a poet. I’ll allow you to get all those delightful laughs out of your belly! Are you done? I’d like to continue. Thank you. Yes! I once was a poet. Many years ago I delved into the habit of expressing my feelings through symbolic sentences. I wrote pages and pages of wordy expression. When I’m in the mood to embarrass myself, I crack open that binder and inject a dose of humiliation up my snooty veins. That binder always has a way of paddling my ass into shape. Ouch. Some of the “poems” I wrote are simply too dreadful to remember. That’s [Click Here To Read Article...]