Prose & Poetry

Some timely and pertinent poems:

Some timely and pertinent poems:

St. Valentine's Prospects

It is only a week until St. Valentine strikes.

That leaves me but seven days to

Find my perfect partner and

Declare undying love:

I want S-E-X with a nice body, and face.

Happy Valentines...

i just read your stuff baron

and i adored it all

the angry one was subline

'to your sun i was a satellite

and to your light i was a moth'

godamnedgreat lines

and the ending

a resounding 'fuck off' is perfect.

FUCKING LOVE IT!!!

and valentines prospects and lonely hearts, clever ,insightful and fun

you better stop.... ive got a thing for poets

and youre as great as i knew you would be

see, i never even saw one of your poems, but i called you my poet

i can smell it in people.

bloody good stuff

i give you an onion

it is a moon wrapped in brown paper,

it promises light

like the careful undressing of love

here

it will blind you with tears

like a lover

i am trying to be truthful

not a cute card or a kiss-o-gram

i give you an onion

its fierce kiss will stay on your lips

possessive and faithful

as we are

as long as we are

take it

its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring

if you like

lethal

its scent will cling to your fingers

cling to your knife

i like this one a lot.

thank you so much!!

do you write too?

come on, quid pro quo!!!

Personal Defeat

my purgatory lives and breathes

malignant passion silently seathes

lined in tissue and dulcet flesh

embittered binding straining mesh

unbound at last lacerations weep

this sethpool of sin my only conceit

Disintigrating Faith

Cherish the dream it's all your worth;

Delusional lies from the moment of birth,

Forgotton truth riddled with rot;

Pungent smelling; corruption we sought.

Poised on the brink of impending doom,

Reality shifts; nurturing womb.

Idealized deception taking hold,

Final hand; we cannot fold.

Our race is over-- Utopia's dead;

The snake has spoken, Eve is fed.

The 13th Calvary

Succulent flesh, ripe for the feasting\Maggots abound; the white mass is seathing

Gorging on it's rotten meal\Loss of sensation; so surreal

Still they force the gobblets of meat\Down their gullets; insatiable conceit

Another bite, another swallow\They continue to glut; the ribcage hollow

Nothing but bone; stark and shallow\Althought the parasite must soon grow fallow

Impatiently it writhes and churns\Ravenous hunger; bounding it burns

Days to come the meat it rots\Maggots pulsate as the blood clots

Thought swiftly as their meal ripens\They froth forth; not to siphon

The Powder Room

A line of mirrors reflects perfection,

trapped by lights, the brightness gaudy

Powdered flesh; a cunning deception.

A corpulant face and corrupted body--

simple smile-- with brightened eyes.

Then the evidence is erased with a fleeting gesture.

The game continues in a chain of lies,

While society waits and tabloids pesture;

For eventually the mask begins to crumble.

You're losing touch; attempting to stall,

The final moment before you tumble.

-- then back to the line of mirrored perfection.

Powder your nose, live your deception.

Nostalgic company brings forth a surge of self-loathing,

bitter to the taste; impossible to swallow.

Yet I feel the urge to give into them; to don historic clothing,

conform to the crowd; empty and hollow

Capering along in a mouldering facsimile of follow the leader

My face suffused with plastic joy; garbed in a brittle smile.

Yet I remain in the dark; drab and lonely; a bottom feeder,

Forgotton by a world bemused by it's own guile

pheno... the line that sticks with me is

'the snake has spoken, eve is fed'

cant get that line out of my mind