Sunday, May 24, 2009

life without

without a red virus warning
a bleeding wound inside the heart
a promise rotting inside old memory
a freedom struggling to be defined
without a morning dawning sad song
a day in the commerce of skin and bone
a jungle swallowing each footfall
without a crowd running amuck
a litany in loud scream song
a disease of the feral kind
a relapse into the foetal blinds
without a few sores in the mouth
a partial deafness of the soul
a ripped crease in the fabric of fate
a little thendral in the music of rages
a crowd never left behind
an answering machine at the tone
without the beat of a heart nearby
what's a hand
without a handicap or thousand
what a bore


  1. the last line takes the cake... "what a bore"


  2. For this and the last poem -

    The more I read of you the fewer words I find to comment.

    I must either stop reading or read in silent admiration.

  3. Ahona, rotfl, sniff, tsk tsk :D ... thanks!

    Nimo - my overweening vanity urges me to urge you to keep saying nice stuff, but what you want is the most important thing, its what makes these connections special, so in short, thass cool :)

  4. Err .... I erm.. kind of meant it as umm .... the impact of the poem.

    Not literally :(

  5. ah its cool man, but hey, yayz, vanity wins :) ... Thanks Nimo, i guess written language communications can be maddening for me sometimes :(