(A series of Senryu poems)
He got her number
from a friend who thought him cute
freelance matchmaking
His poems of her
sounded more like yelp reviews
—good—but not five star
His texts were a kind
of a boyfriend audition
- he got no callback
.
.
Songs for this:
SILVER APPLE EYES by Kasabian
lamb (feat. Kellin Quinn) by Julia Wolf
‘Cause i can't be bad… never was,
Nor will I be!!
I'm just a cubby ; trying to get by,
With the love he found;
True only for him;
Won't ask for more, won't need no more;
A clear day, when he hears her voice,
An awesome night when she hums,
The next day, both would entice.
------
vol 6, Multiples
Yes, I am. But, my eyes are special.
See, my eyes see through you, walls, time and space.
That’s the way they are: brown, but powerful.
And if I see you, you can’t escape!!
-------
vol 6, Multiples
The more unwanted a desire is the more likely it will come back to you if you try to throw it away....
Some feelings are like a boomerang
You can try to face it head on but it sticks its tounge out at you in the mirror and calls you names
It lurks in your cabinets and takes up space in your refrigerator
It sings to you in the shower and turns your internal radio to a station you'd never voluntarily listen to
Every word you ever said plays on repeat, oh would you like all the things you regret 24/7 commercial free
hurting your own feelings is now included with your paid subscription to abject misery
Sometimes it seems like theres no end in sight and the service charges keep changing
I'd like to cancel my membership please
Does anyone know how to log out of their anxiety?
A thundering heartbeat
echoes from the garage to
the stadium.
An subterranean rumble ignites
the quiet arena floor,
As radioactive currents course
through the waiting veins,
Unleashing a fierce,
tempestuous wave of
symphonic thunder.
They transform the mundane
into the fiercely monumental,
Weaving unyielding, anthemic
battle cries from raw
vulnerability.
The percussion strikes like a
sudden, electric lightning bolt,
While the vocals soar into the
stratosphere, cloud- split sky,
Challenging the internal,
shadowy demons that haunt the
mind.
Believers rise from ashes of
their broken, fractured paths,
Bound together by a
triumphant, golden thread of
sonic gold.
This is the majestic,
unstoppable roar of modern
giants,
Stamping their timeless,
permanent footprint into
musical history.
Oscar Fingal O'Fflahertie Wills Wilde
wrote a novel gothic styled
A 'Picture of Dorian Gray'
and a very popular Victorian play*
*Importance of Being Ernest
Lichtenstein Warhol & Mark Rothko
varied modern art style now on show
Make of it what you will
prints thereof still 'ring the till
Simple silent peace
Is no longer good enough
Busy minds crave more
(8/19/26)
"Any visionary poet will say to thee -
on an empty stomach, don't write poetry." - a certain non-visionary poet
Call me daft. Call me a nutter.
Close the door. Shut the shutter.
Put away every cracker.
Hide me from the snacker.
I'm Dr. Franken-Peanut Butter.
The market is run by ghosts,
Who'll never want to share.
Their lived world was for few,
So shall it be for LinkedIn.
No fact. No fiction. No satire.
Yet, LinkedIn dwells all.
All fighting for a need to use hands.
People pretend they best others,
Others do the same,
To some people, it's just a game,
But it will never be offline;
It's always a game online.
I haven't seen when it was simpler,
Yet, I root for us to go back!
I bless Moon for inspiring me.
This modern machine age
Wakes a noise
If not of Hell, inhuman
Inspired by.
In the general uproar
That flame-shot
With lost souls filled, convulsive
Hear; and sigh.
In each separate whine,
Rough grating
Those cave-shackled; those drag chains
Pains, more I.
Inequality underpins the
Existence of current
Slavery.'
Mis-education remains its
Enabler.'
("Lonesome Day Blues", 2025, original encaustic)
My life is in a rut
Without direction or purpose
All I want to do is eat and drink
Escape into books and travel
All around I see society stretched
To the breaking point of collapse
The good persecuted for trying
The bad rewarded for lying
I don’t know what to do
Or where to turn to find a way through
So I’ll just eat and drink
And escape back into my novel…
(5/31/26)
Inside the outside of everything
Colors conform to retreat
I seek not what is lost or gained
I only seek the truth or fiction
Inside the Outside of all
I stumble against the wall of remorse
And in the distance of morning or nightide
I see the truth as gospel or not
Colors bleed into morning or night
Like the dharma of dawn reborn
I see the raven flying or hanging
On a rope-ladder to the moon and back
I am dead but hopeful of life
In all the usual places or not
I am dead and only now
glimpse the truth
Writers block
I’m Writing the attributes of my characters for a book
It’s like talking to the therapist
Character one M- authoritative, everybody scared of him. Looks possessed.
Character two S- Queen bee who sat on her seat, only got up to fight,
Stirring her pot her big mouth, seeing things.
Character three K- Fist fighter with a mission.
It’s about a story on how they lived in modern society. All knowledge was there. They just had to look for it. A middle-class family. Just sitting there in the dark, curtains shut. I don’t know how to explain it. Why would anyone back them I don’t know. Maybe I think of a horror story as refence, Amityville back in the eighties, maybe. I think they all possessed. Trying to imagine a conclusion for it, its hard to think.
Now can’t find how to put them in a setting. Any ideas?
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