The Wasp

Words spawned
from the mouth
of a hungry zeitgeist
and delivered
to the fallen and forlorn
Clothed and fed
by the living dead
in a reality torn
by the infernal zealot
A creature most anthropomorphic
Give us this day our daily tablet
and bleach us like forified bread
with words amplified, rarified,
and delectably catalytic
floating upon the cosmic
with yesterdays plastic
whilst stinging like a hornet
I am the white anglo-saxon poet

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No Exits ~ Exist On

NO EXITS ~ EXIST ON

In the car park
of a stark oblivion
best leave
your engine running
Don’t phone it home
all on your own
If you’ve got the app
of a beating heart
with an overflowing cup
don’t text it to the exit
Within the recreation
of divine sublime trust
Sexit up …
if you really must
Ever since creation
Viva la différenciation
Just don’t let
your love rust
and turn into dust
when life is a bust

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The Doors of Deception

Six long weeks
roaming the dry crust
of a sun burnt wilderness.
Nothing but rocks and red dust,
The hot desert winds
that flay the skin
… now murmuring,
with words broken
of souls lost and forsaken.
Best I finally surrender
upon this alien terrain
the haunted trauma
of a time I’ve tried in vain
. . . to never remember.

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