Loss Word Play Poems

Little Miss Muffet loved her curds and whey,  
give me a box of cereal with cold milk and I will be on my way....

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"Don't come to me in your spills I rather be in peace all alone
Don't come to me cold in your chills I am warm I...

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The anguish flows when money dies
Amid the child’s and mother’s cries
It comes when scarcity is lost 
And money made without a cost

Taking savings, stealing time
Open...

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My sleep is disrupted, badgered
by incessant wordplay,
a thesaurus of woolgathering
in semi-conscious dreams.
I keep a voice recorder,
bedside, to record the tidbit morsels
Lest they're forgotten
when I awaken...

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Blinded By Life And Praying To Truly See


Hold that thought, 
the world desperately needs you
not just your skin
your deeper schemes
nor love that hath
quietly fled your...

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jolted out of 
a fluid fuzzy 
fragmented 
dreamscape
into the sharp
dark ruminating 
ruins of reality

(it is very late in the evening
very early in the morning)

a paralyzed...

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I know Nothing, and I know it well,
for it ensures that my head doesn't swell.

Nothing is something to gripe about,
it outlasts my compulsion to shout.

Nothing...

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The sun tugs young hours, 
Wrings the day. Flowers spring,
     Pupils play,
Waitlessness on one youngling. 

Longing eyes cashed the calendar, ...

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Being loved will help but not something that's fake and will break. I'm not sorry to say I'm here to stay. Some people may never...

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I used to move as fast as cars
runways built in space and mars.
I would dart as far as I could trace 
the words moving off...

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The cunningness I feel is near:
It tries coming for a stay
Living within a beast, I once lived in
It's a bit dangerous wanting my play.

I have...

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To your place, pass negative noon. 
As the moon drifts over the loss...
images of a different life swimming.
In the depths of the ones fevered past.
Catching...

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(This poem is political satire; 
don't read if you think you may 
be offended. No truth in any of it, 
considered by many to be...

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So red the rose a crimson divinity 
Thorns sharp cruel dangerous  
Crush the petals so gently, so soft
Thorns are long, how they prick thee

A...

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In the middle of a ruined parking lot
On doors in a vacant house
ancient walls softly speak 
painted with eyes that seek 
drifting columns of moonlight
and...

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