November 2009
3 posts
Woman at the Bar
My maelstrom of synapses
Can only shake
And shiver,
With quivers from a guitar
That is broken
With five strings
And a lick from the devil.
———
Cold keeps me purple fingered
And cigarettes
Burn slowly,
Another sip of my brew
Finds me laughing
At a world
That was stolen from our blood.
———
But there is no refreshment
Like new born love,
And a time
For quiet...
Untitled
Lost in haunted alleys
Of skinny whores,
Of crooked men,
In broken seams
———————
The skilted skeleton bums
Bask in misery,
Flogging themselves,
Drawing blood,
With whips of what could be
———————
Smiling, ever-laughing,
With gaping toothless grins,
A fire in their eyes
Reflecting century old sin
...
