Tag Archives: COMMENT

PERAMBULATOR BLUES .. .

perambulator blues .. . sky-washed lies, faint dewy contrails fall silently on mute-deaf ears war dogs cascade earthward missiled, Icarus heavens shine brightly betide beams of energy and light wheels within political wheels all this descends upon one common perambulator … Continue reading →

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BEAT

beat .. . beat, plageurism while writing a sonnet Sometimes I think I came too late to writing I should have come first of all to listen is to spell to see to speak to tell all, a rat-fink when … Continue reading →

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da VINCI’S FINGER .. .

da Vinci’s finger .. . alcohol and the elite – a heady mix! I pick up another bottle summoned up the elitist the amateur has gone still hiding in her tree is this your chosen brand can I add mine … Continue reading →

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BiRTHDAY SONNET DRAWN in PENCIL with NOVELTY ERASER .. .

birthday sonnet drawn in pencil with novelty eraser .. … .. and if I were a rogue elephant at the zoo where I grew up presented in the land where I was born in the zone of rhinoceros or armadillo … Continue reading →

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HOW ARE YOUR EYES YOU SEE WITH ? .. .

.. how are your eyes you see with? how are your eyes you see with do they still revolve within your head how far Old Kentucky I’d raise a 1.5 to lift the sadness I almost feel . Laura Lee … Continue reading →

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SAME .. .

same .. . . ears of corn only whisper in reply if I have ought to say this fingered dam grows stone defiant pain of man-made glass so thicker duplicate and tempered till unseen neither frost nor fire may charge … Continue reading →

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SINEAD’S DALLIANCES WITH CAPITALISM & FAME .. .

Sinead’s dalliances with capitalism and fame .. light glances sharply off the wet cobbled lane it is wet, dark and vaguely cold like the hand of the soon departed there must be a reason these words wander and wonder are … Continue reading →

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DEAD END STREET .. .

dead end street .. . There’s a crack up in the ceiling     and the kitchen sink is leaking’                                         … Continue reading →

Posted in BEAT, edenbray MEMOIRS, edenbray POMES, PROG-PROSE, THAT'S ME IN THE MIDDLE, THE ATIST'S SKETCHBOOK .. . | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

THE MANY LIVES OF A TORTOISE .. .

the many lives of a tortoise .. . .. we are made up of the past    with pieces added       joints and fissures cracks             knitsugi craft spurs         … Continue reading →

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BEATNIK SALAD DRESSING .. .

beatnik salad dressing .. . .. upon the copulation this vast landscape of one generation with another an age of explosions around the world victims victims cold and fragile a violence bedraggled half-baked extravagance rise of the extremists curtailed death … Continue reading →

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