Hot Soup talk is the pressure cooker's son!
Sweet derth of wicked tallows and
wipped addicted frothing spider tounges!
But,
All Poets are not the same.
They are born and then multiply
regressivily complexifying claims
to:
love
loss
mother
and father
who cannot love
or loved enough
but find behind them
a second lack.
This other lack that follows,
that fills with words and
signal flares a homage
to trauma,
to enjoyed pain,
to futures cut from knowing
what can lack in love.
Categories:
tallows, absence, body, how i
Form: Free verse
The impulsive and wandering butterfly
was tempted by the candle’s flare
that burnt her wings
when she got close
and sent her falling through the air
She laid scorched up on the floor
her fragile wings would work no more
Tears ran from her swimming eyes
because her little wings were fried.
oh demon light
that I did seek
how you deceive
the brave and meek
who ought to know
a brilliant hallows
from the glare
of dirty tallows
Categories:
tallows, abuse, children, wisdom,
Form: ABC