Best Excretion Poems

Blank white
waiting for an excretion
of ink to fill
imaginary lines.

Virgin paper held in reams
repudiate the poet's pen,
this stark silent bond
naked of any water mark.

Two sides
to the...

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A  flamed anguish gathers in a bleak cellar
 of gray nights pounding on my veins,
steaming through  a roughened flesh;
that in my days I...

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You. 
Yes you. 
Are hard work. 
There's nothing more to it. 
The scarcity of my vocabulary limits me from describing the complexity of the situation...

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The kidneys are so beautifully organized; 
We are bless to have two inside.
There are two kidneys, each about the size of a fist.
From God it...

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We constantly deal with poetry which puts us in a soporific state,
we sit here apathetic to the cause of studying this beautiful art-
but Poetry’s breath...

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a walnut waltzing with a willow tree
A molecule is neither a destitute mop without a bucket house. Nor is it a seven acre field that...

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Unquotable quotes – XVII

The more the spread of the Multi-Verse(s), the less the possibility of purpose in our lives on earth.
In a world chock-full of...

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The release, our body’s mystical excretion
The seat you perch for success or redemption
A subconscious practice we fulfill everyday
But not a favorable topic to vulgarly say

With...

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 I look at my eyes, eyebrows, eyelashes, the covering
So much protection given by lord 
That's is the love of lord for me

I look at...

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I am lost in a swamp
of adjectives, gooey, sticky,
boggy, messcatastric (don't bother looking that one up),
longing to rise above the mess, excretion, digest
completion, Gobblystinko (don't...

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I know you don’t want to hear it
But one day you WILL 
look up and think, 
“Dammit Mom”
And then notice the rose-gold
Of a sunset

Just like...

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Did you think I wrote a month in a minute
Or four hundred years at the beginning of it
Do you think twenty eight days is all...

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Sleeping beside me, floating o'er my head
Sitting beside me, swirling through my mind
Laying beside me, until the end

Like a the blood flowing in me, through...

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The sweat that comes out is not that matters
Where you feel guilty
For the outcome is faulty 

The effect of how it comes out that matters
Not...

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passion of the song of love
persisting lingering in trans
pupil constricted sun sinking in
painfully slowly clearing the fog
puddles of oil excretion of engine
passing steps punishing peace
people...

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