October 2, 2011 in Wordsmoker Poetry
i can hear you
roar-whoring in the background
underneath all this radio
and television babble -
jets ramping up, shutting down
folks leaving, off-fucking-flying, somehow getting out
of this
no horse town
#stupidplanes
October 2, 2011 in Wordsmoker Poetry
i can hear you
roar-whoring in the background
underneath all this radio
and television babble -
jets ramping up, shutting down
folks leaving, off-fucking-flying, somehow getting out
of this
no horse town
#stupidplanes
October 2, 2011 in Wordsmoker Poetry
i can hear you
roar-whoring in the background
underneath all this radio
and television babble -
jets ramping up, shutting down
folks leaving, off-fucking-flying, somehow getting out
of this
no horse town
#stupidplanes
September 27, 2011 in Wordsmoker Poetry
my desk is officially fuddled
everything is muddled
strange things are huddled
and some just don’t belong,
there are post-it’s everywhere
little blank yellow stares
or written-slow-must-take-cares
with insight randomly
sometimes there
manic hieroglyphs
to be translated into sense,
some will fall,
and at the first fence
September 27, 2011 in Wordsmoker Poetry
my desk is officially fuddled
everything is muddled
strange things are huddled
and some just don’t belong,
there are post-it’s everywhere
little blank yellow stares
or written-slow-must-take-cares
with insight randomly
sometimes there
manic hieroglyphs
to be translated into sense,
some will fall,
and at the first fence
September 27, 2011 in Wordsmoker Poetry
my desk is officially fuddled
everything is muddled
strange things are huddled
and some just don’t belong,
there are post-it’s everywhere
little blank yellow stares
or written-slow-must-take-cares
with insight randomly
sometimes there
manic hieroglyphs
to be translated into sense,
some will fall,
and at the first fence
September 27, 2011 in Wordsmoker Poetry
my desk is officially fuddled
everything is muddled
strange things are huddled
and some just don’t belong,
there are post-it’s everywhere
little blank yellow stares
or written-slow-must-take-cares
with insight randomly
sometimes there
manic hieroglyphs
to be translated into sense,
some will fall,
and at the first fence
September 27, 2011 in Wordsmoker Poetry
my desk is officially fuddled
everything is muddled
strange things are huddled
and some just don’t belong,
there are post-it’s everywhere
little blank yellow stares
or written-slow-must-take-cares
with insight randomly
sometimes there
manic hieroglyphs
to be translated into sense,
some will fall,
and at the first fence
September 7, 2011 in The Teenage Poetry Of Timothy Chapstick
autumn has arrived
like the wind of children
windy babies
full of wind
my hair is all
blown about with
getting on my nerves
#stupidwind
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